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Domingo, 29 de Junio de 2003
| 11:14:49 PM | |
Happy birthday,
Mr. Harryhausen!
Today, Ray Harryhausen, the master of stop-motion, turns 83 years old.
Some of my favorite Harryhausen movies:
The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)
When the evil magician Sokurah (Torin Thatcher) shrinks Princess Parisa (Kathryn Grant) to roughly half the size of a Barbie doll, only one thing can restore her: the egg of a Roc. The Roc, of course, is a gigantic bird that lives on the remote island of Colossa. Sinbad (Kerwin Mathews) hires a crew of mutiny-minded convicts and sets sail, Sokurah in tow, but runs afoul of a fire-breathing dragon, a very ticked off Cyclops, and an equally crabby two-headed mutant Roc. This swashbuckling adventure was the first installment of the Sinbad films, and decades later it still has the power to hold viewers spellbound. Thatcher is terrific as the sinister, shaven-headed Sokurah, mugging perfectly for the camera, and Mathews is suitably dashing as Sinbad.
As in all Sinbad films, though, the real stars are the Dynamation creations of Ray Harryhausen. The art of cinematic special effects has taken quantum leaps since 1958, which makes it so amazing that his work still looks as fine as it does. Harryhausen creates a world of fantasy where dragons and grotesque one-eyed humanoids battle to the death, one where it's very easy for adults to suspend their disbelief and watch the action with the wonder of a child. Seventh Voyage not only set the stage for further Sinbad adventures, but was a landmark film in the fantasy genre, opening doors for sword-and-sandal Hercules epics and countless other excursions. Few films, though, have the artistry that Ray Harryhausen's effects display in this movie. For great escapist fare for kids and adults alike, look no further than the first Sinbad film.
—Jerry Renshaw
Jason and the Argonauts (1963)
Arguably the most intelligently written film to feature the masterful stop-motion animation of Ray Harryhausen, Jason and the Argonauts is a colorful adventure that takes full advantage of Harryhausen's "Dynarama" process. Inspired by the Greek myth, the story begins when the fearless explorer Jason (Todd Armstrong) returns to the kingdom of Thessaly to make his rightful claim to the throne, but the gods proclaim that he must first find the magical Golden Fleece. Consulting Hera, the queen of gods, Jason recruits the brave Argonauts to crew his ship, and they embark on their eventful journey. Along the way they encounter a variety of mythic creatures, including the 100-foot bronze god Talos, the batlike Harpies, the seven-headed reptilian Hydra, and an army of skeletons wielding sword and shield. This last sequence remains one of the finest that Harryhausen ever created, and it's still as thrilling as anything from the age of digital special effects. Harryhausen was the true auteur of his fantasy films, and his brilliant animation evokes a timeless sense of wonder. Jason and the Argonauts is a prime showcase for Harryhausen's talent—a wondrous product of pure imagination and filmmaking ingenuity. The DVD contains an informative interview with Harryhausen by filmmaker John Landis.
—Jeff Shannon
Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977)
In this last go-round for the Sinbad series, Patrick Wayne plays the legendary sailor. He is betrothed to Farah (Jayne Seymour) and seeks her hand in marriage, but her brother Kassim has been turned into a baboon by the evil Zenobia (Margaret Whiting). Before he can break Zenobia's spell, Sinbad must contend with the Minoton, a bronze statue brought back to life to do her bidding; a trio of flaming skeletons wielding swords; a 9-foot-tall troglodyte; and a saber-toothed tiger. Wayne is the film's weakest point, making a rather wooden Sinbad. Whiting's performance smells strongly of ham, but it's a brand of ham that fits the movie perfectly. As always, though, Harryhausen's work is outstanding. He instills more personality and character into his creatures in this outing, especially for Kassim and his relationship to his sister. The prolonged battle between the troglodyte and saber-toothed tiger is a violent one, generating some real suspense. At times it's difficult to remember that it's not live action with guidance from a director. Though this is an uneven effort for the Sinbad series, it still has its moments.
—Jerry Renshaw
Clash of the Titans (1981)
You have a classic tale full of drama, passion, and adventure. A tale of universal archetypes that speak to everyone. A tale that has remained unfailingly popular for thousands of years. Why not spice it up with a wacky mechanical owl? Such was the thinking behind Clash of the Titans. Maggie Smith, Laurence Olivier, and Harry Hamlin (one of these things is not like the others...) star in a toga-ripper about a valiant hero, capricious immortals, and lots and lots of giant stop-action monsters. Perseus (Hamlin) is the favored son of the god Zeus (Olivier), but he has unwittingly ticked off the sea goddess Thetis (Smith). Just to make things worse, Perseus falls in love with the lovely Princess Andromeda, who used to be engaged to Thetis's son. Soon Perseus is off on one quest after another, with Zeus helping, Thetis hindering, and lots of innocent bystanders getting stabbed, drowned, and squished. Of course, the whole thing is just an excuse to show as much of Ray Harryhausen's stop-motion animation as possible, and good thing too. It's an old technique, but it still looks pretty darn cool, and it means the cast can just relax and do a bunch of reaction shots. Don't use this one to study for that big classical mythology exam, but if you just turn your brain off and enjoy the Kraken, it's pretty good fun.
—Ali Davis
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| 6:58:51 PM | |
And then, just when she is thinking (and not for the first time) about how this life holds no more surprises, no unplumbed marital depths, he says in a strangely casual voice, "It's a good thing you weren't sleeping with me last night, Jax. I had a bad dream. I actually screamed myself awake."
She's startled. How long has it been since he called her Jax instead of Janet or Jan? The last is a nickname she secretly hates. It makes her think of that syrupy-sweet actress on "Lassie" when she was a kid, the little boy (Timmy, his name was Timmy) always fell down a well or got bitten by a snake or trapped under a rock, and what kind of parents put a kid's life in the hands of a fucking collie?
She turns to him again, forgetting the pot with the last egg still in it, the water now long enough off the boil to be lukewarm. He had a bad dream? Harvey? She tries to remember when Harvey has mentioned having had any kind of dream and has no luck. All that comes is a vague memory of their courtship days, Harvey saying something like "I dream of you," she herself young enough to think it sweet instead of lame.
"You what?"
"Screamed myself awake," he says. "Did you not hear me?"
— Stephen King, "Harvey's Dream"
Finally, a Stephen King story published by the New Yorker shows up at their website. Since it went on-line, the magazine has published two stories by Mr. King (the current one and "The Death of Jack Hamilton"), but only this one had been posted to the Internet.
Beyond that, one essay by Mr. King had also been published in the magazine and posted to the website:
CONE HEAD
In the spring of 1970, when I was twenty-two, I was arrested by the Orono, Maine, police. After a traffic stop, I'd been discovered in possession of some three dozen rubber traffic cones. After a hard night of drinking Long Island Iced Tea at the University Motor Inn, I had struck one of these traffic cones while driving home. It bounced up under the car and tore off the muffler of my ancient Ford station wagon. I had noticed earlier that the town of Orono had been painting crosswalks that day, and now realized they'd left their damn traffic cones all over the place. With a drunk's logic, I decided to cruise around town—slowly, safely, sanely—and pick up all the cones. Every single one. The following day, I would present them, along with my dead muffler, at the Town Office in a display of righteous anger.
This was part of 6 recollections by different authors of a particularly low moment during their lives (hence, "Lowest Ebb"), which also included essays by Lillian Faderman ("Take It All Off"), Mary Karr ("College Try"), Dagoberto Gilb ("Spanish Guy"), Joye Carol Oates ("Bound"), and Denis Johnson ("Homeless and High").
Oh! Besides a new Stephen King story, the New Yorker's website has also included something from their archives: an excerpt from On Writing, where Mr. King recounts the story of the accident that almost ended his writing career.
ON IMPACT
Smith sees that I'm awake and tells me that help is on the way. He speaks calmly, even cheerily. His look, as he sits on the rock with his cane across his lap, is one of pleasant commiseration: Ain't the two of us just had the shittiest luck? it says. He and Bullet had left the campground where they were staying, he later tells an investigator, because he wanted "some of those Marzes bars they have up to the store." When I hear this detail some weeks later, it occurs to me that I have nearly been killed by a character out of one of my own novels. It's almost funny.
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