Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Movie Palaces - March 31, 2006

 

When Thomas L. Tally opened the Electric Theatre in Los Angeles on April 2, 1902 -- the first movie theater in the United States, he couldn't possibly have imagined that a century later, the moviegoing experience would be a cacophony of ads, cell phones, screaming babies, and unruly patrons

Regardless, Tally may have hoped that his small storefront theater would eventually evolve into a movie palace, a grand temple where thousands could gather in lush and opulent surroundings to watch giant flickering images on the silver screen

The heyday of movie palaces was short, lasting only about 30 years, and while most of the grand theaters of yesteryear have vanished, many are still standing -- and thriving

From Jersey City to Hollywood, from Detroit to Abilene, there are still opportunities to get a good seat in the second balcony and lose yourself in a classic film or show with a couple thousand of your best friends.

Suggested Sites...

  • Cinema Treasures - photos and vital statistics for movie theaters and palaces throughout the world.
  • Los Angeles's Broadway Theatre District - information about the movie palaces built in downtown Los Angeles in the 1920s and 1930s.
  • The Last Remaining Seats - annual festival in Los Angeles, showing classic films in cinemas in the historic Broadway Theatre District.
  • Going Attractions - official site for the documentary about the rise and fall (and, in some cases, rebirth) of the grand movie palaces of the 20th century.

Hollywood Suffers from Hays' Fever - March 31, 2009

 

One of the fascinating things about watching old movies -- and we mean, really old movies from the first third of the twentieth century, is the "throw-anything-against-the-wall" feeling that the creators are making up a whole new art form as they go along.

There's an impression that the earliest features were
silly comedies featuring people who moved jerkily at high speeds. But as early as the 1910s, directors like Lois Weber were making films about controversial topics like capital punishment, drug addiction, and abortion. Such strong subjects were accompanied by equally strong language, but until the movies learned to talk, intertitles were able to shield the more sensitive members of the audience (or at least, those who couldn't read lips) from that language.

When technology finally allowed patrons to
hear as well as see actors, moviemakers were faced with tough choices: how to maintain the grittiness and realism audiences had come to expect without making the dialogue so raw that films would be censored by regional film boards or condemned by the powerful Catholic Legion of Decency. (This was an era when the epithet "son of a bitch" caused an uproar when it was used in the 1928 play The Front Page.) The solution was to tone down most of the language while keeping the themes the same. Movies like Baby Face or Employees' Entrance (featuring the hard-boiled Barbara Stanwyck and the delightfully sleazy Warren William sleeping their way to the top) were as popular as they were scandalous.

But even that taming was too much, and on March 31, 1930,
Will H. Hays, president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America released a codified rule book designed to ensure that movie producers self-censored their films. That way, not only would filmgoers of all ages be spared anything the least bit unsavory, but it ensured that "American" values would be promoted and upheld. So strong was the Hays Code that, in 1939, when producer David O. Selznick wanted to keep Rhett Butler’s final line in Gone With the Wind intact, he had to pay a $5,000 fine for using the word "damn."

For the next 35 years, the Code remained virtually inviolate. One of the first directors to subvert it was
Otto Preminger, who fought to use such verboten words as "virgin" and "rape" in his films, making them strictly "adults only" fare.

As society changed in the 1960s, the code became unenforceable. Keeping mature themes and language out of the movies became increasingly absurd, so the Code was abandoned in favor of the
rating system (G, PG, PG-13, R, and NC-17) we know today.

While it's now possible to go to the movies and see and hear virtually anything, there’s still a thrill in watching a pre-Code movie like
Night Nurse and finding out that our grandparents and great-grandparents were a lot more interesting than we thought.

Suggested Sites...

Tuesday, March 30, 2021

The Martian Who Came to Dinner - March 30, 2010

We see that V returns to television this evening, and the spectacle of aliens visiting the Earth yet again makes us pause to reflect on the virtual parade of strange races that have been inexplicably drawn here over the decades.

Let's stipulate in the beginning that we love the Earth. It's our home and everything we know and love is here. In spite of that, we have to admit that it's not the most impressive planet. It's relatively small, certainly out of the way, but other than all of us living here, it doesn't offer anything especially remarkable.

So, just why is the place so darn attractive to aliens? Over the last century or so, it's been hard to swing a dead cat without hitting an extraterrestrial. The trouble seems to have started in 1898 when H. G. Wells wrote The War of the Worlds, which depicted an invading army of Martian tripods, and there's been little rest since -- particularly from those pesky Martians. Wells' Martians have been the most persistent, returning in 1938 (with the help of Orson Welles), 1953, 1988, and 2005 -- fortunately being defeated every time by germs (you think they'd learn ... ).

The '50s were an especially fertile decade for Martians in particular and aliens in general. That decade brought us Marvin the Martian, who didn't "invade" Earth (though he did want to blow it up -- we interfere with his view of Venus, apparently), and more Invaders From Mars, but that one may have been a dream so it doesn’t really count (or does it?).

1956 saw the arrival of J'onn J'onzz, the "Martian Manhunter." J'onn didn't "invade," either -- he was unwillingly transported here -- but he chose to stay on and fight crime, even becoming a founding member of the Justice League of America. And, of course, in 1963, "Uncle Martin" crash-landed on Earth and became Tim O'Hara's "Favorite Martian."

Martians aren't our only extraterrestrial tourists, obviously. Seems like hardly a week went by in the '50s (again!) when we weren't being invaded by Things, Blobs, Its, Kanamits -- or even Teenagers -- all of whom tried to take over the Earth with their evil plans.

Of course, for every hostile invader, there was a Klaatu, Kreton, or even a Superman, who came in peace, or who didn't threaten to blow up the planet -- for the time being, at least.

As the century drew to a close, alien invaders became a little more persistent. There were the unnamed aliens who started to blow things up in July of 1996, all those nameless extraterrestrials who plagued Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and even Martians again in 1996, who seemed on the verge of worldwide conquest until they were defeated by Slim Whitman. Even they were balanced, though, by more benign beings whose cars broke down, made long-distance calls, or who were cruising the planet looking for dates.

Conspiracists have suggested since 1947 that we've been visited by actual aliens, and that the government has covered up the truth in order to protect the public. Given our cinematic exposure to extraterrestrials, though, we're more likely to react to Gazoos or Psychlos with boredom than fear.

Suggested Sites...

Saturday, March 27, 2021

Walking on Air - March 28, 2007

Acrophobics, beware! March 28 is your worst nightmare come true, for today marks the opening of the Grand Canyon Skywalk, the highest man-made structure ever built. 

The Skywalk sits higher than the Taipei 101 building; higher off the ground than three Empire State Buildings or four Eiffel Towers. So high that one has to wonder if even Superman could leap it in a single bound

And the worst part? The only thing separating those who dare to venture out on the catwalk suspended nearly a mile above the Canyon floor is a thin sheet of clear Plexiglass. Oh, sure, they say it'll hold the equivalent of 71 747s, but who wants to take the chance? The idea of watching helicopters fly under our feet gives us the willies. While it may seem tempting, unless we suddenly develop an uncanny ability to float in midair, we'll stick to terra firma.

Suggested Sites...

Friday, March 26, 2021

"The Good Duck Artist" - March 27, 2009

For comic readers in the 1950s, times could be grim. The art form was anything but respected, superheroes had mostly disappeared, and crime and horror comics were banned. Superman was busy pulling cruel practical jokes on his friends and Batman was fighting aliens, so for real adventure, readers turned to Walt Disney's Comics and Stories. What they found there was a series of globe-spanning treks featuring Donald Duck, his nephews Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and his wily and parsimonious uncle, Scrooge McDuck.

Fans noticed that some of the stories were better-written and drawn than others, but since the Disney corporate image required the illusion that Unca Walt himself personally created everything that went out under his name, that one creator was known only as "
The Good Duck Artist," rather than his real name: Carl Barks. When Barks retired (for the first time) in 1966, the secret of his real identity leaked out to fans who were delighted to finally be able to connect the artist's name to his work.

Despite being in his mid-60s and having more than 25 years of comics behind him, Barks was persuaded to come out of retirement to write more stories featuring Donald and
Daisy Duck and the Junior Woodchucks. Unable to put his art aside, he took up painting, concentrating mainly on farm scenes until he was commissioned to recreate one of his WDC&S covers. Word of his paintings spread like wildfire among collectors, and Barks was soon selling them for thousands of dollars each. 

While Disney originally approved his efforts, unauthorized sales by a fan led to the company revoking his license until Star Wars producer Gary Kurtz persuaded Disney to change its corporate mind and allow Barks to continue creating paintings of Donald, Uncle Scrooge, and his other creations until his death in 2000 -- only months short of his 100th birthday. Museum exhibitions of his art have drawn hundreds of thousands of fans who are charmed by the humor and clarity of his work. 

I met Barks in the 80s. Unlike the mob scenes at most of his appearances, he and his wife GarĂ© were alone, so I got the chance to have a long talk with him. He was charming, funny, and surprisingly self-effacing for a man whose influence spread far beyond comics. How far? Remember the opening scenes of Raiders of the Lost Ark? They were taken from Barks's Seven Cities of Cibola. Bet you didn’t know the real Indiana Jones was Scrooge McDuck!

Suggested Sites...

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Land of the Giants - March 26, 2010

In looking for today's Spark topic, we were interested to see that on March 26, 1937, Crystal City, Texas erected a statue in honor of Popeye the Sailor. That struck us as odd, seeing as how we had visited Chester, Illinois (hometown of Elzie Segar, creator of the man who is "strong to the finich") last year, specifically to see their statues of Popeye, Olive Oyl, and J. Wellington Wimpy. "Surely," we thought, "there couldn't be two. Popeye's well-known, but he's not that popular, is he?"

Imagine our surprise to find that there are not just two statues of the cycloptic sailor, but four, with
Alma, Arkansas and Springdale, Arkansas joining the fun (though we think the original Alma statue looked more like Mr. Clean than Popeye, and the last has gone missing). It got us to wondering what other wonders we'd been missing in this great land of ours.

We knew about -- and have even visited (as did another vistor) -- the giant statue of
Superman in Metropolis, Illinois, but we didn't realize that Metropolis (a community of only 6,500) also boasted a giant statue of a grocery bagger as well as the grave of Robert Stroud, the "Birdman of Alcatraz." 

We'd also visited Collinsville, Illinois to see the world's largest bottle of ketchup (though we were mighty disappointed to find there was no gift shop. What’s up with that, Collinsville?). What we didn't realize was that Illinois must be suffering from some sort of inferiority complex, as it's also home to the world's largest statue of local-boy-made-good Abraham Lincoln, a series of giant generic guys and gals in and out of bathing suits, and the tallest totem pole east of the Rockies.

Of course, the Land of Lincoln isn't the only home of "what the hell is that?" attractions. There are the
dinosaurs in Cabazon, California (made famous in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure); the Mother Goose House in Hazard, Kentucky; the five-story-tall muskie that houses the Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame and Museum in Hayward, Wisconsin; the Big Duck of Flanders, New York; or Lucy the Elephant in Margate, New Jersey -- a monument that used to be a hotel. (And need we mention the late, lamented Bull Dog CafĂ© in Los Angeles?)

Not all the monuments are animals, though. There's the aforementioned
ketchup bottle, but there's also the "Shoe House" in Hellam, Pennsylvania (and, yes, an old woman did live there); the Castroville, California artichoke; a giant baked potato in Blackfoot, Idaho; an office chair in Anniston, Alabama; a chest of drawers in High Point, North Carolina; a milk bottle in New Bedford, Connecticut, and a paper airplane in Mukilteo, Washington. There's also a penny in Woodruff, Wisconsin that claims to be the world's biggest, but Batman might disagree.

Some folks plan their vacations around seeing such sights (not us, of course...), but it's just as delightful (if not terrifying) to stumble across
Mickey Rooney's giant head unexpectedly. We don’t know what it is in the American character that makes us want to eat in a giant hat or go gawk at a giant orange, but it's a treat to find a town or a company that commemorates something in that way.

Herr Doktor Sigmund Freud might have something to say about this quest for size, but sometimes a giant ear of corn is just a giant ear of corn.

Suggested Sites...