Private Parts (1972).

Review #2440: Private Parts (1972).

Cast: 

Ayn Ruymen (Cheryl Stratton), Lucille Benson (Aunt Martha Atwood), John Ventantonio (George Atwood), Laurie Main (Reverend Moon), Stanley Livingston (Jeff), Charles Woolf (Jeff's dad), Ann Gibbs (Judy), Len Travis (Mike), Dorothy Neumann (Mrs. Quigley), Gene Simms (First policeman), John Lupton (Second policeman), and Patrick Strong (Artie) Directed by Paul Bartel (#955 - Eating Raoul, #2231 - Death Race 2000)

Review: 

"If you wish you hadn't seen it, it's bad bad taste. If you feel you were brought dangerously close to the edge, but at the end you were made to laugh or learn something, then it's good bad taste."

It really is a terrible thing to be called Private Parts, if you think about it, so imagine if that was your film debut. This was the case for one Paul Bartel. Born in Brooklyn but raised in Manhattan and New Jersey, Bartel had an interest in film from a young age and apparently spent time assisting cartoonists at UPA, as one does when fascinated with marionettes before they turn 10. He studied at UCLA and made short films that got him a scholarship to study film in Rome. The Secret Cinema (1966), a short detailing a woman being secretly filmed by manipulators around them, was his first prominent short film. Gene Corman served as producer of the movie, a cheapie meant to be for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The working title of the movie was "Blood Relations" before MGM president James Aubrey suggested the change. Go figure: local newspapers saw "Private Parts" and said, nope, too shocking to print, which defeats the whole purpose of a title (in some places, they just called it "Private Arts"). The movie was written by Philip Kearney and Les Rendelstein (screenwriters of this, Strange Invasion [1965], and nothing else), who apparently knew a few oddballs in the underworld of Los Angeles; they were UCLA guys around the same time as Bartel, who apparently did some re-writes to the script. Premier Productions was the distributor of the movie, but actually it was just a subsidiary of MGM, who apparently was embarrassed by the sex and violence but wouldn't just sell it to someone who actually cared. Well, given that they were in the business of doing a horror movie, what exactly were they expecting, Rosemary's Baby?* Bartel appeared in a variety of movies (cameo or supporting, as one expects from a character actor) while often appearing his own directorial efforts, of which he made a total of nine movies before he died in 2000 at the age of 61.

It's a neat little sleazy movie that happens to have a change in mood right around the climax that Bartel stated had an impact with why test audiences were not as big on it as you might expect. He once stated that you had to "be detached from the film and not take it seriously" in order to appreciate it, which may prove fascinating for a movie that does seem pretty relevant more than ever. Sure, some people probably know who their neighbors are (anonymity is the goal but not expected), but there are likely some secrets best not worth knowing everything about; basically, this is a movie for those who like to pair their movies with Psycho or Peeping Tom. It has a few moments of gore but is also just as amusing in the weird spaces that you see for 87 minutes. This is the first and only credited movie for Ruymen, who had done a handful of theater productions and even getting on Broadway with Neil Simon's The Gingerbread Lady*. She did a handful of television appearances over the next few years and has mostly spent time directing for the small stage. She pulls off an interesting performance here, mainly because she has the fascinating challenge of playing eager youth without just being a final target. She does pretty well in balancing that tightrope, doing so with a certain shaky type of charm to go with the foibles of youth that can make one chuckle just as much as grimace. Undeniably, Benson shines the best among the cast, proving to be unsettling without having to strain to make one get the idea as one might expect from a character depicted going to funeral to take photos. You know something is a bit up with her from the jump but you are entranced at the self confidence that comes in that type of belief of self-righteousness about the nature of men and women. It also happens to be the only movie for Ventantonio, who is fairly unsettling, albeit for a movie that relies plenty on having an unsettling feeling on what one is allowed to see. You get plenty to see in images and other things in the landscape two-fold: a person we first see observing someone having sex and a person we soon see observing others from their abode while you also get some side moments with eccentrics (one of them played by Bartel, naturally) to remind you that there can be just as much unease without bloodshed. Uneven or not, there is at least something for everyone even for a slasher film that likes to show a mirror at the world and chuckle a bit at what we see in malaise. Look, there are people who don't respect horror and then there are those who are willing to believe that comedy just doesn't work with horror. But Private Parts (1972) is a neat little movie that happens to dwell in the macabre with eccentric energy that might be right up your alley for a strange time in the horror season.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*Hey, we don't hate Rosemary's Baby here, I just think it's funny to rag on it. Or Hereditary. Or people who call Sinners anything other than straight horror. No it isn't a musical, stop lying to yourself.

*The play actually lasted just five months on Broadway. The only other movie with Ruymen in it was Jaws, she played a nurse and didn't get screen credit.

*I do find a bit strange Wikipedia terms it as "LGBTQ-related film", since we are talking about a movie where someone injects blood into an inflatable sex doll full of water. Not exactly something you'd want to fly the flag for, you know?

Duel.

Review #2000: Duel.

Cast: 

Dennis Weaver (David Mann), with Jacqueline Scott (Mrs. Mann), Carey Loftin (Truck Driver), Eddie Firestone (Café Owner), Lou Frizzell (Bus Driverdagger), Eugene Dynarski (Man in Café), Lucille Benson (Lady at Snakerama), Tim Herbert (Gas Station Attendant), and Charles Seel (Old Man) 

Directed by Steven Spielberg (#126 - Close Encounters of the Third Kind, #168 - Raiders of the Lost Ark, #169 - Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, #170 - Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, #302 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, #351 - Schindler's List, #480 - Jaws, #563 - The Sugarland Express, #573 - E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, #642 - Jurassic Park, #958 - Always, #1068 - Ready Player One, #1305 - Catch Me If You Can, #1478 - The Color Purple, #1520 - Saving Private Ryan, and #1528 - A.I. Artificial Intelligence, #1560 - The Adventures of Tintin, #1843 -  The Lost World: Jurrassic Park)

Review: 

"I mean, I believe that stuff. I don't think you can be a filmmaker, a serious filmmaker making audience popcorn movies unless you believe the stories you're telling."

In roughly 2,000 movies seen over the past twelve years or so, the one constant presence among the 133 directors with at least four films spotlighted is Steven Spielberg. One always has to remember that Spielberg got his start as a director from a very young age. The Cincinnati native made his first film with Firelight (1964) at the age of 17. Of course, his most prominent work in the early era came with Amblin' (1968), a short film that was so successful that he was signed to a deal with Universal Studios because an executive in Sid Sheinberg liked it that much. Of course, he had an ambition to want to direct films, but he found that he really had to get work within television first before someone would want him to direct films. As such, he would direct episodes for six television shows alongside three television films. You might recognize him as a director on two firsts: the second segment of the pilot for Night Gallery ("Eyes") and the director of the first regular episode of Columbo ("Murder by the Book") in September of 1971. Duel was his first true television film, airing on November 13, 1971 (weeks before Spielberg turned 25).

The film was written by Richard Matheson, who adapted his own short story that originally had been published in the April 1971 edition of Playboy magazine (after failing to get it done on television or as a film with executives), with inspiration taken from a real-life incident where he was tailgated by a trucker on November 22, 1963; the story was written after he took a trip from home to Ventura to record what he saw. Matheson, as one might know, was a noted writer of fiction, film, and television, whether that involved The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) or episodes of the original The Twilight Zone. Spielberg's secretary Nona Tyson read the story and suggested it to Spielberg to try and lobby to make due to the plans already being set in motion by Universal. Spielberg showed a rough cut of his Columbo episode to help make a good impression to studio executives, which worked with the caveat of having just ten days to film. With a completion of 13 days with the use of five editors to make a Universal Television product ready for ABC's Movie of the Week, the film just made it to the finish line, helped by Spielberg and his skill in plotting out every camera shot he needed with an overhead map he commissioned that he had done of the area in California that would be for shooting (as opposed to doing it in a soundstage). Upon hearing the good ratings of the film (remember, this was 1971), Universal decided to give it a theatrical release, primarily in Europe and Australia (there apparently was a limited release in the United States, in 1983). When it came for a theatrical release, several scenes were shot later to make a 74-minute film into 90, which consists of: a scene involving a railroad crossing, one involving the lead dealing with a school bus and its driver, a scene on the phone with a character (Scott) in their only scene of the film, and an opening with a car backing out of a garage before it hits the open road (the TV one just shows it on the road already). Spielberg would make his formal debut in features with The Sugarland Express in 1974, and the rest is history.

The best films are the ones that adhere to their premises that you can tie down in a certain amount of sentences without having to strain in why it seems so interesting. This is especially apparent when you think about a movie about a man being terrorized on the road by a man in a truck whose face you never see. It really is a miracle movie, if you think about it. Can you imagine shooting a film like this in twelve days for television and then go on to find that it would be one that created demand for a theatrical release but also manage to be talked about after a half-century? Network Movie of the Weeks may be a thing of the past when it comes to must-see TV for most people, but one thing that has never gotten out of style is the thrill of a wonderful chase, and Spielberg excels handily here in a film that seems to lay all the stops for how he would make an even more captivating thriller of man and things around him with Jaws (1975). Both feature a creature that simply cannot be negotiated with and only lives to destroy anything vulnerable enough to its reach and both even feature the same rattle of sound. You haven't lived until you see a Peterbilt gasoline tanker truck look menacing in all of its dark brown glory. Believe it or not, Weaver was not the first choice. Gregory Peck, David Janssen, and Dustin Hoffman each were approached and turned down the role (Peck was approached with the idea as a theatrical film and not as a TV production), which opened the door for Weaver. He was perhaps best known for his roles as the secondary lead on Gunsmoke (1955-1964) and as the title lead in the 1970s police drama McCloud. Actually, it was his supporting role in Touch of Evil (1958) as a twitchy motel man that Spielberg found most interesting in intensity when it came to backing Weaver for the role. As such, he is allowed to roam at his own vulnerable pace, which either sees him look over his shoulder or try to compose himself with select dialogue. It isn't anything transcendent, but it is the kind of acting challenge that one in theory would love to have, since it involves someone trying their hardest to not turn the role into one that bounces off the wall in fear and instead find a clear balance. Spielberg excels when it comes to the visual storytelling that comes through in his shots that he wanted to make sure were not just comprised as close-ups with little to express, especially for a film that has to find tricks to make the speed of the car look as fast it seems to be going on screen while having multiple cameras running. This proves especially rewarding in the final sequence of man versus truck that sees one arrive at their final destination with glorious capturing by the cameras to make a worthy ending (thankfully, due to executive help, ABC's request to have an explosion at the end was not put in). As a whole, Duel is an achievement of worthwhile creativity for its filmmaker to make a simple premise into one of great tension that Alfred Hitchcock surely would have been proud of with a resourceful sense of timing and staging and one quality performance to make a highly memorable strike that makes a great first step into further curiosity. It takes it time in the best of ways that any young filmmaker would want to aspire for in their ambitions in satisfying the need to serve as a visual storyteller and entertain their audience with a solid foundation of craftsmanship for filmmaking.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

And so here we are at last. It took 2,495 days from the very first review to get to #1000 on October 19, 2017. 2,009 days later, a new collection of 1,000 reviews is here, no doubt aided by the fact that I have managed to write at least ten reviews for a month in all but six months that have followed October 2017 (to say nothing of 2020, a massive undertaking in a strange year). I think they outrank the original 1,000 by a significant margin, and that counts even with the revised reviews (such as #1). 

I hope the last five years have seen interesting films be featured with a useful perspective, whether that involved trying to make theme months out of January or August, or with spotlighting black history in film with February or women history with March or with the march of horror films in October and November. With any luck, I hope the next 1,000 is just as worthy of curiosity for readers out there. Onward.