jürgen fauth’s muckworld

The promising first half of George Stevens’ Texan epic sets up a tiresome three-and-a-half-hour descent into mediocrity. Displaced northern bride Liz Taylor slowly fades from the center of the story, nouveau riche James Dean is woefully misused, children come and go, and Rock Hudson’s stubborn cattle rancher is granted an improbable redemption. Giant keeps pulling its punches, and in the end, it’s home sweet home and upstart Jett Rink lies under a table where he belongs. After 201 minutes, we have arrived in the cornball fifties, cheated out of any kind of pay-off, and that’s the real tragedy.

No doubt There Will Be Blood owes more to Giant than just the Marfa location; in fact, Anderson’s film feels like Giant’s evil twin, made up of all the scenes the other movie suppressed: the real drama, the truth of the matter. You know, the good scenes. After the jump, screenshots from both movies that seem to talk to one another, in the spirit of Kevin Lee’s influence spotting. Don’t click if you haven’t seen the movie yet: There Will Be Spoilers. For more Blood talk, I Drink Your Milkshake.com is the place.

Giant. George Stevens, 1958. ***

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I use contemporary art like a day spa. In case I’m feeling out of sorts, a visit to Long Island City’s own art haven P.S.1 never fails to rejuvenate — it’s just slightly stranger than you expect, and I always leave in high spirits. This time around, there were endless video loops of cats tearing into rat carcasses, Liz Taylor, Fassbinder’s Berlin Alexanderplatz story boards, a magical room without a roof we had never noticed before, and a polar bear made of feathers. A few more photos - and podcasts!

Prompted by the grand finale of Rome, we took another look at Cleopatra, which is one of those movies I can rewatch every few years. Compare-and-contrast is a fun enough game, and Marcy, who was never entirely sure which of the HBO characters were fictional, was entertained by noting differences in motivation and plot. Every frame of Cleopatra must have cost more than an entire episode of Rome, but the storytelling is much more contemporary on HBO. The movie nearly bankrupted Fox because it was designed to trump TV by outspending it. Forty years later, it has been shown up by… a TV show. But the images are still twice as wide, and the characters twice as grand.

Here’s what fascinated me, though: the palatial sets, outlandish backdrops, and outsized drama of Cleopatra resemble another, much more recent epic about larger-than-life figures. Along with forties serials, The Hidden Fortress, Ray Harryhausen and all the other usual suspects, there is no doubt that the Cinemascope epics of the fifties and sixties, and specifically Cleopatra, served as a blueprint for the Star Wars films. Archetypes in ever-morphing hairdos and caped costumes acting out eternal tragedies and reciting awkward, overwritten lines of dialogue — especially Revenge of the Sith, the episode in which the galactic shit hits the fan, is the spiritual and cinematic heir of Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s four-and-a-half-hour epic.

Read on for more about Star Wars, Grindhouse, and why Jar-Jar Binks is cooler than Stuntman Mike. Also, lots more screenshots.

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It’s rare that a TV show ends before it has outstayed its welcome. Rome, which offered equal parts history, soap opera intrigue, gore, and soft porn, has run its course now, and the adventures of Vorenus and Pullo will be missed. The series covered the events of Joseph L. Mankiewicz’ Cleopatra — one half per season — and, with the ascent of Augustus, segues nicely into I, Claudius. The vibe of Rome, of course, was often more Caligula than Robert Graves. I’m sad it’s over. ****

Previously.

From Cleopatra, Liz Taylor’s arrival in Rome:

From Rome, Mark Antony’s arrival in Egypt:

From Caligula, Helen Mirren’s dance: