“Red Tails” is, simply put, a disappointing movie about an incredible subject.

The film tells the story  of the Tuskegee Airmen, the first all African-American flight unit in the United States military. The men and women–yes, there were female “Tuskegee Airmen”–who served in this unit were incredible individuals who overcame racism and the brutal intensity of war to become heroes during World War II.  Their story and the obstacles they overcame to become legendary figures in history, however, isn’t captured well in this patriotic but ultimately unremarkable film.

Directed by Anthony Hemingway, the story focuses on the group of young warriors eager for their chance to fight. Ambitious pilots like Marty “Easy” Julian (Nate Parker), Joe “Lightning” Litte (David Oyelowo) and Ray “Junior” Gannon (Tristan Wilds) compose this energetic and idealistic unit. These soldiers don’t focus on the racism that has held them back. They spend their time training and dreaming about getting their chance to shine. They want an opportunity to serve their country in epic battles but are repeatedly passed over for major assignments.

Their supervisors aren’t satisfied with their missions, either. Played by Terrence Howard and Cuba Gooding Jr., Colonel A.J. Bullard and Major Emanuelle Stance want their unit to have a chance to prove itself. While Stance is their overseas commanding officer, Bullard is their D.C. liaison and must continually battle against the racist sensibilities of the scowling and perpetually displeased Colonel William Mortamus (“Breaking Bad’s” Bryan Cranston).

In one well-done scene, the two argue about the unit, and Bullard tells the Colonel that he respects Mortamus’ uniform and rank but nothing more. That speaks volumes about the racism that these airmen encountered. They were asked to serve military leaders who often looked down on them and disrespected them. But the airmen served them knowing that they were serving their country above everything else. (more…)

In a 1946 interview, Capra described “It’s a Wonderful Life’s” theme as “the individual’s belief in himself,” and that he made it to “combat a modern trend toward atheism.”

“It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) began as a short story called “The Greatest Gift.” Pennsylvania-born writer Philip Van Doren Stern, who said that the heartwarming tale had come to him in a dream, was unable to sell it to a publisher, so he sent the story out as a long Christmas card to friends. His agent subsequently sold the fable to RKO pictures, where it went through several transformations.

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In one version a losing political candidate contemplated suicide, only to have an angel convince him to stick around and do good works. Finally it fell into the hands of director Frank Capra, who said it was the story he had been looking for all his life. He purchased it to be the first project for his new venture, Liberty Films (started by Capra in 1945 along with Producer Samuel J. Briskin, and directors William Wyler and George Stevens). With movie attendance booming during the Second World War II, a new independent film company for big name directors seemed like a can’t-miss idea.

Capra had long been an admirer of Amadeo Pietro Giannini, the founder of the Bank of Italy in 1904, renamed the Bank of America in 1928. Giannini earned a reputation for lending money to people other financial institutions had considered bad risks, including immigrants whose property had been destroyed by the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. A.P. only required a handshake and was proud to say later that he was always paid back. Giannini also believed strongly in the hopes and dreams of some of the street merchants who gravitated into the fledgling film industry, and put his bank’s money behind their ventures.

Based on Giannini, Capra’s 1932 drama, “American Madness,” told the story of a bank president (Walter Huston) who makes lending decisions based more on character than collateral, which causes his board of directors to try and ruin him. The money man is bailed by his less well-to-do friends,who personally benefited from his past generosity. A movie about a bank run had proved too topical to be a big hit in 1932; now, fourteen years later, “It’s a Wonderful Life” would allow Capra to once again tackle a similar theme.

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Woody Guthrie: hero to the left for decades. Writer of folk hits like ‘This Land Is Your Land.” Member of the Communist Party. But because he was part of the “Greatest Generation” that went through the Great Depression and World War II, his basic sensibility and outlook are still miles away from the spoiled brats of the Occupy Movement. Here’s proof …

Take a look at his 1942 New Year’s Resolution and see if it doesn’t bring a smile to your face, with cute cartoons and common sense goals. Seems to me that almost all his goals are really things that seem almost – dare I say it? – conservative in today’s world.

Keep clean. Save money. Work hard. Take care of your kids. Love your parents. Help the country win the war. (more…)

Unlike their post 9-11 successors, Hollywood generally dealt with the aftermath of World War II with a more united front, more humor and less political correctness.

Since 9-11, Hollywood filmmakers have had, within free-market parameters, the choice to make any type of picture they wish. No one in government prohibited director Steven Spielberg, in the 2005 drama “Munich,” from implying, in the minds of some critics, that Mossad agents and Palestinian terrorists were morally equivalent and that both sides were equally responsible with their shared intransigence for the Twin Towers coming down (Gabriel Schoenfeld, in the February 2006 issue of Commentary Magazine stated that Munich,” deserves an Oscar in one category only: most hypocritical film of the year.”)

Spielberg, who previously produced “An American Tail” (1986), which depicted Jewish immigrants as mice, seemed to be conflicted with the whole notion of Israelis fighting back against those who wished them not to exist. “”I’m always in favor of Israel responding strongly when it’s threatened. At the same time, a response to a response doesn’t really solve anything. It just creates a perpetual-motion machine,” Spielberg told Time Magazine. “There’s been a quagmire of blood for blood for many decades in that region. Where does it end? How can it end?”

Another post-9/11 cinema trait was that Muslim villains became mostly taboo on the screen. The 2002 thriller “The Sum of All Fears,” adapted from the Tom Clancy novel of same name, featured Aryan villains trying to bomb Baltimore rather than the Arab destroyers depicted in the book. Director Phil Alden Robinson claimed the ethnic change was because Middle East terrorists would not be able to accomplish the mayhem that took place in the story, not mentioning that he had been lobbied hard by CAIR (Council on American-Islamic Relations) not to show Muslims in a bad light.Writer Clancy later jokingly referred to himself as “the author of the book Phil Robinson ignored.”

The political correctness which was already present in the film industry, and that just seemed to grow after the World Trade Center was struck down, was a stark contrast to events following America’s entry into World War II. Shortly after December 7, 1941, Washington’s Bureau of Motion Pictures (BMI) made their objectives clear: every director, producer and writer needed to ask whether their current picture would help win the war. The implication by the Roosevelt administration was clear; if the major studios failed to cooperate, their industry would be nationalized.

For the most part, such threats were not needed.

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I’m a lifelong ‘Tintin’ fan and have read every one of the Georges Prosper Remi (pen name Hergé) books multiple times, including his crude earlier works like ‘Tintin in the Congo’ and his unfinished ‘Tintin and Alph-Art.’ Like any author who worked for decades, Hergé’s ‘Tintin’ series reflects the values and perspective of its time, for better or worse, including his portrayal of minorities and people of different ethnicity or religious backgrounds.

There’s no question, for example, that ‘Tintin in the Congo’ is rather embarrassingly racist by modern standards, but recently critics have begun to attack the new, as yet unreleased ‘Tintin’ movie, complaining that Hergé was a horrible person and that watching the new Steven Spielberg motion capture film ‘The Adventures of Tintin’ is like “being raped” (in the words of the Guardian’s literary critic Nicholas Lezard). That’s a bit much.

In fact, as Contact Music reports in that piece, there are people complaining about the racist and antisemitic overtones of some of Hergé’s works and bringing up the issue of whether he was a Nazi collaborator during World War II, as if it makes any difference to how we’ll react and appreciate (or dislike) the newest film to star the young boy reporter.

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One year ago today John Nolte reported in this space that “Captain America: The First Avenger” director Joe Johnston said the film based on the legendary comic book hero is “not about America,” and I can finally confirm that he spoke the truth.  The $140 million blockbuster, which opens at midnight, is not anti-American–it’s even kinda pro-American–but if you’re looking for that rare film that surrenders itself to the reality of American exceptionalism, don’t let the title fool you.  Johnston describes the latest from the summer movie factory that is Marvel Studios best: “It’s an international cast and an international story. It’s about what makes America great and what make the rest of the world great too.”   Now, I’m very much relieved that it’s now okay to call America “great” in Hollywood, but as far as “Captain America: The First Avenger” is concerned, self-conscious pandering to multi-cultural feel-goodism combined with some unambitious storytelling makes for an unsatisfying movie-going experience.

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“Captain America: The First Avenger” is set in the latter half of World War II.  The action begins with a scrawny Steve Rogers (a digitally depreciated Chris Evans) doing everything he can to enlist in the U.S. Army.  Rogers has all kinds of heart, but he’s gaunt and is thus 4-F.  The plot turns when an impassioned speech to a friend (“There are men laying down their lives.  I have no right to do any less than them.”) catches the ear of Dr. Abraham Erskine (a very Stanley Tucci Stanley Tucci).  Erskine is a German scientist who is working with the U.S. Army to develop a Super Solider Serum–the ultimate performance enhancing drug–and is on the lookout for a test subject.  The serum amplifies what’s inside of you, so someone of Rogers’ size and character makes him the perfect candidate for this breakthrough procedure.  Erskine and engineer Howard Stark (father of Tony) put Rogers in what looks like a retro-50s refrigerator, crank up the dials until all the power in the building short-circuits, and out comes this guy: (more…)

“How I Won the War,” released on DVD over four decades after its theatrical debut in 1967, is notable for two reasons. First, it’s the only film that Beatle John Lennon appeared in without his fellow band mates in tow, and second, it’s a liberal, anti-war film that was reamed by Roger Ebert in the Chicago Sun-Times and Bosley Crowther in the New York Times.

Lennon plays a bit part as a soldier under the command of British lieutenant Earnest Goodbody (Michael Crawford), whose incompetence continually dwindles his troops as they fight the Axis in North Africa and Europe.

Director Richard Lester, the man behind Beatles films “Help!” and “A Hard Day’s Night,” splices grainy, tinted documentary footage into his film, but detracts from the weight of this footage through gag comedy and an apparent lack of direction throughout.

Charles Wood wrote the screenplay, though it’s hard to understand what he wrote exactly. The dialogue is spoken so fast that with the British accents it’s nearly impossible to understand. And the storyline is mashed and incoherent, seemingly without a purpose or end-point in sight.

I think the acting is good, I think, but I couldn’t really tell since I didn’t know what the actors were saying. Lennon’s pretty funny, but his character is a prankster, whose gags are immature and childish. (more…)

As a World War II veteran of five campaigns in France, Belgium, and Germany, and then more recently in 2006, taking up a new “career” in filmmaking, I have produced two documentaries, Let Freedom Ring: The Lesson Is Priceless and Let Freedom Ring: Memories Of France.

These were filmed in 2006 and 2007 with young high school history teachers and combat veterans who served respectively in Belgium (Battle of the Bulge) and in France (D-Day, Normandy Invasion).

This new “career” that started at age eighty-one and has been ongoing for five years, is for the purpose of fulfilling my mission to reach young students with the message of the importance of freedom and the consequences of losing one’s freedom.

I am now seeking funding to distribute these films at no cost, which are in DVD format, primarily into the high schools in California where I live.

Now, a third documentary is planned. It is a film about the Eighth Air Force operations from England on daring daylight raids on German targets. Twenty-six thousand men were killed, more than the Marines in the Pacific. (more…)

I used to think I was a fan of the genre known today as fantasy, and specifically the subgenres of High Fantasy and Sword-and-Sorcery. This was due to a number of factors. A childhood imagination dominated by Dungeons & Dragons. An exposure to memorable movies like Excalibur, Clash of the Titans, Conan the Barbarian, and their lesser 1980s cousins.

Towering above all, though, was (and still is) my unabashed obsession with the two titanic literary talents chiefly responsible for birthing the entire shebang: J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) and Robert E. Howard (1906-1936). I consider each the complete equal of the other, two flat-out geniuses destined to be remembered and reread hundreds of years after the Pulitzer-winning authors praised by most mainstream critics are forgotten.

But it was only recently, after decades of ever-increasing reading disappointment, that I grudgingly began to admit the truth: I don’t particularly care for fantasy per se. What I actually cherish is something far more rare: the elevated prose poetry, mythopoeic subcreation, and thematic richness that only the best fantasy achieves, and that echoes in important particulars the myths and fables of old.

This realization eliminates, at a stroke, virtually everything written under the banner of fantasy today.

The mere trappings of the genre do nothing for me when wedded to the now-ubiquitous interminable soap-opera plots (a conservative friend of mine once accurately derided “fat fantasy” cycles such as Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time as “Lord of the Rings 90210”). Nor do they impress me in the least when placed into the hands of writers clearly bored with the classic mythic undertones of the genre, and who try to shake things up with what can best be described as postmodern blasphemies against our mythic heritage. (more…)

There’s been a dearth of Yuletide material here at Big Hollywood this month, so as The Most Wonderful Day of the Year draws nigh, let’s spend some time saluting the five men whose voices echo most strongly through the Christmas chapters of the Great American songbook.

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5. Johnny Mathis (b. 1935)

A host of other crooners fought tooth and nail for this fifth slot — Dean Martin, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, Jim Reeves, Gene Autry, Nat King Cole — but Mathis wins the day via an impressive five Christmas-themed albums, the best of which are immeasurably improved by the melodic mastery of maestro Percy Faith (1908-1976), whose inventive yet unashamedly unambiguous orchestrations make him my favorite instrumental interpreter of Christmas tunes.

The only one of our Top 5 who is still alive, Mathis made his Xmas bones by singing what is, for my money, the single most beautiful rendition of “Ave Maria” ever recorded — a feat accomplished when he was just twenty-two. Fifty years on, no one has matched the infectious, jingling energy Mathis and Faith brought to “Sleigh Ride.” And despite a good showing by Andy Williams, I daresay he takes the prize for “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and “Winter Wonderland” as well. (more…)

Yesterday I walked into my local supermarket to find they already had a massive Christmas tree up ornamented with gift cards. Yes, it’s quickly approaching “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” and that means gifts to buy, preferably before you find yourself scrambling from store to store in a panic on Christmas Eve.

With that in mind, here are five drool-worthy stocking stuffers for the cinemaphiles in your family, all of them due to be released in the next few weeks.

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1. Frank Sinatra: Concert Collection (November 2, 2010, $54.99 at Amazon)

Get hep to this, man: seven discs containing fourteen hours of TV specials and filmed concerts, with Ol’ Blue Eyes joined by Ella Fitzgerald, Count Basie, Gene Kelly, Antonio Carlos Jobim, John Denver, Bing Crosby, and of course Dino. Four of the specials have never been released, and a host of isolated TV clips are thrown in for good measure. Top it all off with a 44-page booklet chock full of rare photos and scholarly commentary, and the Chairman of the Board is truly back in all his scotch-soaked glory.

The seventh “Bonus Disc” sounds like the perfect thing to have playing in the background while you are decorating your tree: a “Happy Holidays with Bing and Frank” color TV special. (more…)

“Leave it to Beaver” was an iconic television show of the 1950s, a show that has been ridiculed by decades by women’s libbers and feminists because of the allegedly stereotypical role of women that it portrayed.

Barbara Billingsley, who died last Saturday, was June Cleaver, the wife of Ward Cleaver, played by Hugh Beaumont, and the mother of two boys, Wally (Tony Dow) and Theodore (Jerry Mathers), nicknamed “the Beaver.”

The Cleaver family on ‘Leave it to Beaver’: (from left) Wally, Mom, Dad and ‘The Beav’ (AP)

June Cleaver was a stay-at-home mom who was always there for her kids, with love, sage motherly advice, and good cooking. This model of motherhood was scorned by feminists in the decades to come as the product over oppressive, abusive men who wanted to keep their wives in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.

Like many obituaries, the NY Times obituary was a bit snarky:

“Along with the mothers played by Harriet Nelson (“The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet”), Donna Reed (“The Donna Reed Show”) and others, Ms. Billingsley’s role became a cultural standard, one that may have been too good to be true but produced fan mail and nostalgia for decades afterward, from the same generation whose counterculture derided the see-no-evil suburbia June’s character represented.”

However, as I said when I appeared in Stephen Bannon’s movie, Generation Zero, almost nobody today understands what was going on in the 1950s. (more…)

World War II was my war. We fought the Germans. They were the enemy. There was a German problem. Of course, if we had stopped to think about it, which we didn’t because we were too busy trying to win the war, we would have realized that not every German wanted to fight us; maybe not even a majority of them did. But they didn’t oppose the Nazi extremists who had taken over their government and attacked us in the name of German racial superiority. I’m sure a lot of Germans agreed with Hitler. But those who were against him, didn’t dare speak up. A few did, of course, like the great German patriot Reverend Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He spoke out against the Nazi thugs. For his pains he was put into a concentration camp and died there.

Jihadist thugs are now attacking us in the name of Islam. No doubt there are a lot of Islamic believers who don’t support this. But like the Germans in World War II, they are not speaking up… for good reason of course, as there was a good reason back in the days of the Third Reich. But because they aren’t speaking up to oppose what is being done in their name, the world has a Muslim problem. Everybody knows this. Not many public figures dare to say it out loud. Some public figures don’t want to know it, much less say it out loud.

Bill O’Reilly, who has taken great pains in recent years to position himself as a centrist, has now had the courage to say out loud what everybody knows. The predictable cries of outrage have ensued. Juan Williams, a true blue liberal who has no doubt outraged his bosses at NPR for years by appearing on Fox, even if it was to espouse their cause, is now paying the price for O’Reilly. They couldn’t fire him; he doesn’t work for them. Juan does, so out he went. (more…)

Back in the summer of 1951, Jackson, Wyoming was a sleepy town nestled amidst a vast untamed wilderness, and George Stevens was there in the valley shooting a film called Shane. To maintain as much creative control as possible, he acted as both Producer and Director.

“I personally like to see films that are the work of as singular a consciousness as possible,” Stevens explained about his decision to do two exhausting and difficult jobs at once. But as with everything, there was a price to be paid. “It’s like trying to be a traffic cop and write a poem at the same time. You need an executive head to handle all the vast paraphernalia of moviemaking. You need another, more sensitive head to get the delicate human emotional values you are trying to put on film.”

The making of Shane, then — indeed, the making of most great films — is largely a tale of an artist using all of his powers and guile and energy to bend the technology and the paraphernalia to the arduous task of making those delicate emotional values come to life on an empty screen.

*****

The opening of Shane. A little boy, played by young Brandon De Wilde, stalks a large-horned buck with an unloaded rifle. The buck is startled by something in the distance, looks up — and there, poised right between its antlers, is a distant horseman lazily riding toward us. (more…)

When director George Stevens decided to film Shane in the early fifties, it was a momentous decision on a number of levels.

Born in 1904, he was the product of a family of actors, and grew up in San Francisco helping his parents learn lines, doing backstage work, and even acting when the occasion demanded. “I was fascinated by all of it,” Stevens said. “The sounds of the theater and the audience, their rapture when a play took over and moved them and held them quietly. . . When the audience was truly moved, it was absolutely quiet. They were in a communion because they were learning the truth about themselves.”

In 1921 his parents moved the family to Los Angeles to find work in the silent movie industry, and for Stevens it was a wonderful change. He leveraged a job his cousin had at Hal Roach studios to begin visiting the lot.

“I was really a kid at the time,” Stevens said, “and I had been interested in photography as a kid, as a hobby. . . I was on a picture for four or five days, had an opportunity to be on a set, and the assistant cameraman kept showing me things. One day I climbed the fence, knowing they needed an assistant cameraman. A couple of days later I was one. The first day or two it was pretty disastrous, but I knew something about photography, and I caught on quick.” (more…)

I don’t know about you, but for me, the Fourth of July goes with war movies — you know, like Al Gore and happy endings.

Maybe it’s the “bombs bursting” in the Star Spangled Banner, or the evening fireworks, or simply that the smell of barbeque in the afternoon reminds me of napalm (actually, it’s either victory, or lighter fluid).

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So when the wiener hits the grill, I’m hankering for some Heartbreak Ridge.  I’m weak-kneed for a little Where Eagles Dare.  I’m jonesing for a piece o’ that… Johnny Tremain.  (You try and find a good war movie that starts with a “J.”)

Most of all, I pine for Patton.  Few celluloid moments can top that iconic opening scene for patriotic bliss.  First off, you’ve got that humongous American flag backdrop.  And you’ve got the general himself in full fruit-salad regalia, delivering the greatest pep talk since Henry V’s St. Crispin’s Day speech. (more…)

The Best Years of Our Lives was on TCM today.

Even when the Good Guys and Bad Guys all seemed incontestably defined, World War II still created a certain amount of what we now call “post-traumatic stress” … and, of course, the world, even then, could not or would not … or simply refused to understand.

Then there was the film’s 1940’s, unsavory version of a war protestor who so provoked the veterans that the character Dana Andrews portrayed punched the Axis sympathizer into and virtually through a display case and, of course, our hero lost his job.

Then the double amputee and his fear of marriage … well, I cried through the whole film, particularly the wedding ceremony we thought would never happen.

During it, of course, hope springs eternal and Dana Andrews renews his commitment to new beginnings, goes over and kisses Theresa Wright … right there! (more…)

“REAL ART ENDURES” blared a printed United Artists sales pitch to theaters in 1920. “Art is not a matter of opinion. It is a matter of popular selection. D. W. Griffith’s Broken Blossoms is a more powerful attraction today than when it was first shown last Spring, because people speak of it, they see it again and again, and those who have not yet had the opportunity are looking for it. They feel it is the one film they must not miss. That is why Broken Blossoms is a more compelling box-office feature for you now than ever before. It’s name above your theater entrance means big business and prestige for your house.”

In our last installment, we read one critic from the 1920s refer to silent films as the “uncertain art of the unspoken drama.” What made it so uncertain was its newness. People then had no way of knowing how the technology was going to play out. Were “flickers” a fad, or something more? Would they be superseded by some newer, better, impossible-to-predict technology, making them as irrelevant as the horse and buggy had become by 1919? Or was this “uncertain art of the unspoken drama” fated to last for centuries, with names like Griffith and Gish remembered and admired in the year 3919 the same way ancient names like Homer, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides still carried weight in 1919?

As it happened, silent films vanished in the face of synchronous sound only a decade after Broken Blossoms appeared. Black-and-white photography lasted a few more decades, but that, too, eventually gave way to color. The art of film continued, but the art of silent film was dead and largely forgotten. (more…)

Almost fifty years ago, in the film journal Sight and Sound for Winter 1964/65, critic Roger Hudson wrote that the talent of motion picture production designers “is often overlooked, except where it is the greatest element in a film’s success, as it is in Goldfinger.”

The greatest element — that’s a bold claim, considering the hot competition among the movie’s other collaborators. But in hindsight, few would argue that the marvelous sets, vehicles, and spy gadgets of Goldfinger, masterminded by production designer Ken Adam, are any less iconic than Ian Fleming’s novel, Sean Connery’s performance, or John Barry’s musical score.

Production design is a largely unsung art. Both the script and the need for historical accuracy tend to serve as harsh governors on the dreams and fantasies of the people charged with designing a movie’s sets and props. But the Bond films, Adam says, “are done so loosely that the script isn’t the Bible that it is in most films. It changes all the time, and the whole process of writing is like some democratic debating society.”

When Dr. No went into production in 1961, Adam got a mere 14,000 pounds (out of the movie’s total budget of 350,000) with which to design all of the interior sets for this “tongue-in-cheek spectacular,” including the casino in the opening scene, Bond’s apartments, M’s office, and the sprawling, futuristic lair of the villainous doctor himself. He performed his task in England while the rest of the cast and crew were off filming exteriors in Jamaica, and when they returned they were stunned by what they saw: (more…)

Why do we at Big Hollywood and elsewhere in the conservative blogosphere even care about James Cameron and his stupid eco-dreck cartoon?  Or about Tom Hanks’ insights into the nature of American-Japanese relations World War II?  Or about the conclusions Matt Damon has drawn about the Iraq war that he’s derived as a result of his years of intense work at being a movie star?

Well, at one level, we don’t care.  James Cameron is another overpaid Hollywood petty tyrant with twin talents for shooting exciting action set pieces and for overtly and covertly serving up sophomoric lefty clichés.  Tom Hanks seems to be a nice enough guy, but I’d as soon head to him to diagnose a mysterious groin lump as I would to get a dissertation on the racial undertones of the War in the Pacific.  And Matt Damon is just a half-wit whose advocacy of gravity would be enough to make me oppose it.

But on another level, we do care because these folks and their antics provide proverbial “teaching moments” that help define the nature of the opposing sides in this cultural insurrection.  And it is an insurrection – in the case of Big Hollywood, a war between wily guerrillas with laptops, a few affiliated websites, a radio show and some busy Twitter accounts, and that unwieldy, lumbering cultural behemoth we call Hollywood. (more…)