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There was this movie theater near where I grew up that used to show a different double feature every few days. Sometimes they'd be movies by the same director or with the same star. The best ones, though, were where they'd put two movies together that didn't really have anything to do with each other but were totally related by some kind of theme. Like Gallipoli/Breaker Morant; Exorcist/Clockwork Orange or Bladerunner/Road Warrior. I loved that place. Anyway, I thought of it today because I rented Ed Wood and Gods & Monsters.
People talk about Hollywood being about movie stars but you know, more often than not successful movie stars are just not that interesting. I mean, I'm sure Tom Hanks is a very nice guy and maybe he's totally scintillating at cocktail parties, but his life really doesn't interest me. He's basically just an actor doing the job he likes who has a wife and kids. I never get the sense he's exorcising any inner demons in his movies, or trying to figure something out. He makes a better actor than character, it seems to me.
It's the character types that to me are the real "Hollywood Story." You only find it in the losers, the has-beens, the never-wases and the ones that had it all and then destroyed themselves because it wasn't enough. You can't have a dream factory unless you reveal the assembly line for what it is. So it was cool watching these two movies back to back. The first thing I noticed about the two movies was how prominently war was featured in them--beyond just the fact that horror movies, especially the kinds featured in these movies, have always been influenced heavily by war. One of the most striking scenes in Ed Wood, for me, was when Bela Lugosi attempts to frighten kids who come to his house trick-or-treating. One little boy stands his ground and says he Lugosi's not a real vampire, that his teeth are fake. Bela deflates until Ed says, "Well, what about THESE then?" and pulls out his own front teeth, sending the kid screaming. Bela asks how he did that and he replies, "Dentures. I lost my pearly whites in the war!"
Even though Ed's a veteran, he comes across as young and puppyish. But maybe that's an illusion. Ed cherishes the monsters of his childhood because they mean something to him. People claim it's childish to cherish children's books and hobbits too. But I know why I'm protective of them, and it has nothing to do with having delusions about them being real or my being naive. Okay, Ed's a little more delusional than I am, but still. For Ed Frankenstein and Dracula are comforting (as comforting as bras, panties and angora sweaters!) in ways that 50's horror--atomic age paranoia--is not.
Ed knows that the most painful way to kill a man, sometimes, is to take away his illusions. Bela knows he's washed up on some level. It just can't be said out loud. Ed must know he's a talentless hack. He just can't hear that from someone who matters. Maybe I like him and his Hollywood friends so much because I believe that myself--sometimes telling the truth is just needlessly cruel. Sometimes what looks to others like a detachment from reality is just a person's way of dealing with reality. And dealing with reality can be an art in itself--actually, it's the art at the heart of both these movies. Because Ed's group has agreed to support each other's dreams, they've formed a family. As Ed says, he can't be judgemental because if he was judgemental he "wouldn't have any friends at all."
James Whale, the character Ian McKellan plays in Gods & Monsters, is suffering from illusions too. Unfortunately, his illusions take the form of an intrusive reality--he keeps getting flashes of the war he tried so hard to forget. Without the illusions of movies or sex games to distract him, he feels himself dragged back to the past he tried to run away from. The one where he was a lower class boy in a factory or watching a boy who loved him rot on the battlefield. "You look too human," he complains to Boon (Brendan Fraser) once, putting a gas mask on him. I never understand people who complain about horror movies by saying, "There's so much real horror in the world, why create more?" Because it's the same horror--it's just better to deal with in the abstract. When Boon isn't a monster he looks too much like the real horror.
Boon is a young man looking for a way to escape the reality of his past. He tries to pretend he's fought in a war, but that's really his father's dream and not his. The fantasy that really does draw him is the kind Whale has created--both in his movies and in his life. Boon watches Bride of Frankenstein with his friends, trying to understand the man he's working for. A friend says, "These old movies were a hoot. They thought they were being so scary and they're just being funny."
"Maybe they meant to be funny," Boon suggests, but no one believes him. Boon turns out to be right. Jimmy even complains that the younger generation doesn't get it because they're so serious. "The trick is not to let the ones who aren't in on the joke know." The best comedy comes from tragedy. Each generation thinks they're the only one who gets that.
By the end Boon's definitely begun to understand the cruelty of taking away someone's ability to imagine their own reality. When Whale reveals that he's been unable to sketch his face, Boon literally offers his body to help him get it back. The last image of the movie (which had me in tears, I admit) is Boon pretending to be Frankenstein's Monster out there in the rain. It's especially poignant given that one of the last things he said to Whale was to angrily tell him, "I'm not your monster!" He's not Whale's monster, but Whale's monster belongs to everyone.
I don't know why I love this kind of theme so much. I'm either haunted by stories where someone's illusions are stripped away (Mulholland Drive, The Swimmer, a certain anecdote I heard years ago) or psyched up by ones where someone makes them reality (Galaxy Quest).
People talk about Hollywood being about movie stars but you know, more often than not successful movie stars are just not that interesting. I mean, I'm sure Tom Hanks is a very nice guy and maybe he's totally scintillating at cocktail parties, but his life really doesn't interest me. He's basically just an actor doing the job he likes who has a wife and kids. I never get the sense he's exorcising any inner demons in his movies, or trying to figure something out. He makes a better actor than character, it seems to me.
It's the character types that to me are the real "Hollywood Story." You only find it in the losers, the has-beens, the never-wases and the ones that had it all and then destroyed themselves because it wasn't enough. You can't have a dream factory unless you reveal the assembly line for what it is. So it was cool watching these two movies back to back. The first thing I noticed about the two movies was how prominently war was featured in them--beyond just the fact that horror movies, especially the kinds featured in these movies, have always been influenced heavily by war. One of the most striking scenes in Ed Wood, for me, was when Bela Lugosi attempts to frighten kids who come to his house trick-or-treating. One little boy stands his ground and says he Lugosi's not a real vampire, that his teeth are fake. Bela deflates until Ed says, "Well, what about THESE then?" and pulls out his own front teeth, sending the kid screaming. Bela asks how he did that and he replies, "Dentures. I lost my pearly whites in the war!"
Even though Ed's a veteran, he comes across as young and puppyish. But maybe that's an illusion. Ed cherishes the monsters of his childhood because they mean something to him. People claim it's childish to cherish children's books and hobbits too. But I know why I'm protective of them, and it has nothing to do with having delusions about them being real or my being naive. Okay, Ed's a little more delusional than I am, but still. For Ed Frankenstein and Dracula are comforting (as comforting as bras, panties and angora sweaters!) in ways that 50's horror--atomic age paranoia--is not.
Ed knows that the most painful way to kill a man, sometimes, is to take away his illusions. Bela knows he's washed up on some level. It just can't be said out loud. Ed must know he's a talentless hack. He just can't hear that from someone who matters. Maybe I like him and his Hollywood friends so much because I believe that myself--sometimes telling the truth is just needlessly cruel. Sometimes what looks to others like a detachment from reality is just a person's way of dealing with reality. And dealing with reality can be an art in itself--actually, it's the art at the heart of both these movies. Because Ed's group has agreed to support each other's dreams, they've formed a family. As Ed says, he can't be judgemental because if he was judgemental he "wouldn't have any friends at all."
James Whale, the character Ian McKellan plays in Gods & Monsters, is suffering from illusions too. Unfortunately, his illusions take the form of an intrusive reality--he keeps getting flashes of the war he tried so hard to forget. Without the illusions of movies or sex games to distract him, he feels himself dragged back to the past he tried to run away from. The one where he was a lower class boy in a factory or watching a boy who loved him rot on the battlefield. "You look too human," he complains to Boon (Brendan Fraser) once, putting a gas mask on him. I never understand people who complain about horror movies by saying, "There's so much real horror in the world, why create more?" Because it's the same horror--it's just better to deal with in the abstract. When Boon isn't a monster he looks too much like the real horror.
Boon is a young man looking for a way to escape the reality of his past. He tries to pretend he's fought in a war, but that's really his father's dream and not his. The fantasy that really does draw him is the kind Whale has created--both in his movies and in his life. Boon watches Bride of Frankenstein with his friends, trying to understand the man he's working for. A friend says, "These old movies were a hoot. They thought they were being so scary and they're just being funny."
"Maybe they meant to be funny," Boon suggests, but no one believes him. Boon turns out to be right. Jimmy even complains that the younger generation doesn't get it because they're so serious. "The trick is not to let the ones who aren't in on the joke know." The best comedy comes from tragedy. Each generation thinks they're the only one who gets that.
By the end Boon's definitely begun to understand the cruelty of taking away someone's ability to imagine their own reality. When Whale reveals that he's been unable to sketch his face, Boon literally offers his body to help him get it back. The last image of the movie (which had me in tears, I admit) is Boon pretending to be Frankenstein's Monster out there in the rain. It's especially poignant given that one of the last things he said to Whale was to angrily tell him, "I'm not your monster!" He's not Whale's monster, but Whale's monster belongs to everyone.
I don't know why I love this kind of theme so much. I'm either haunted by stories where someone's illusions are stripped away (Mulholland Drive, The Swimmer, a certain anecdote I heard years ago) or psyched up by ones where someone makes them reality (Galaxy Quest).
