Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) was an incredibly interesting choice for a screening in this class. It’s weird for me to think of a “cult” of film studies scholars geeking out over a much anticipated film–much like how I geeked out when I watched the highly anticipated last installment of the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 (2011). This was my second time watching the film, and it was so much more enjoyable the second time, being fully aware of some of the winks that Quentin Tarantino threw at 1969 Hollywood.

Quentin Tarantino is a little film nerd, and everyone knows that. He is exceptionally well versed in cinema, a film genius. He’s completely in love with film. He wrote his first screenplay at 14-years-old. He’s worked in the film business for forever–first as an usher in a theater, and then at a video store in Manhattan Beach, CA. Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is his love letter to filmmaking, and that’s the filter that made this film so much more beautiful and enjoyable–it was a passion project through and through. The film was also set at an extremely enjoyable time period with regards to cinema–where Old Hollywood and New Hollywood briefly met and mingled.

I sincerely apologize in advance, but bear with me while I go on a little tangent. I started to research this film, and as I got deeper into my research, I started to realize how petty the negative critiques and reviews are. I landed on a few “Let’s Discuss That Massive Inaccuracy in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” type of articles that went on to speak about Quentin Tarantino’s habit of historical inaccuracy. Some critics had the audacity to insignificantly bitch about how Quentin Tarantino took his inaccuracy “too far” by making Brad Pitt’s character, Cliff Booth, smoke an acid-dipped cigarette.

Okay, maybe you can’t get high smoking acid–let’s say Tarantino doesn’t know that (he’s Quentin Tarantino, he knows). Tarantino is an auteur, through and through. He famously writes his screenplays so beautifully and concisely that you can visualize the movie perfectly just by reading his work. Next, he famously often directs his own screenplays. It’s his masterpiece of a world, and his imagination as a writer should be able to be as flexible as possible. If Quentin Tarantino wants to make an acid-dipped cigarette a thing in the world that he has masterfully crafted, let him! If Quentin Tarantino wants to randomly feature a green giraffe, let him!

Let’s say he does know that you can’t get high smoking an acid-dipped cigarette, which I guarantee you is the case–again, he’s Quentin Tarantino, he’s both done drugs and done extensive research in preparation for the film. That’s part of his magic. He knows you can’t smoke acid, he’s written the script that way. Quentin Tarantino carefully moulds his story-worlds, paying attention to each and every detail. He knows the characters he writes like himself. This interview will give you some insight into how much thought goes into Quentin Tarantino’s process:

Whenever you see a character in a Quentin Tarantino film smoking, the cigarette they are smoking is a fictional cigarette brand (Red Apple) that he has made up. In fact, one thing that Margot Robbie commented on about working with Quentin Tarantino was how detailed everything on set was–from clothing and cars to music and benches.

As you can see, Quentin Tarantino knows his shit. The acid-dipped cigarette was most probably a careful thought out aspect of the interaction that Cliff Booth had with the flower child, a perfect 1960s hippie scam. Tangent ended.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is a wonderful film, and I am so excited for Quentin Tarantino’s 10th and final film, if this is any indication of how he’s planning on closing the book.

This semester was amazing, what a wonderful class! I have fallen in love with so many films that were screened in this class (actually so many films screened in Dr. Schlegel’s film classes in general, so thank you!). It’s astounding to me that I can actually take scholarly, academic classes about something that I love so much (I hated learning so much in high-school, I spent a lot of my time watching films until 4am on weeknights instead of working). As obvious as it is, it had never occurred to me how fun studying would be if you love and are passionate about what you’re learning.

Asking me to pin down what my favorite screening in this class was is ridiculous and unfair, so I’ll tell you which few movies really made an impact on me and why. I do have an easy least favorite–Detroit Rock City (1999). It just wasn’t my cup of tea. I thought that it was terrible.

First off, Suspiria (1977) was phenomenal. Not to be too dramatic, but it was so beautiful that I could cry, a visual assault from the moment Suzy reaches the exterior of the Tanz Dance Academy. The film was a beautiful chromatic journey, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Don’t even get me started on that soundtrack!

The next film that I really, really ‘dug’ was The Warriors (1979). Its stylin’ opening image, artful and highly-stylized shots, staggering costumes and a KILLER soundtrack shot right to my heart. I don’t want to say it, but if I had to pick my favorite screening of the semester, it would probably be this. The last scene was just so good. When we were walking back from class that night, my friends and I couldn’t stop raving about it. We watched it again the next day.

Carnival of Souls (1962) made me appreciate low-budget horror films. I could have paused the film at any moment, and the screen would be a painting. The cinematography was gorgeous–it almost brought me to tears. That abandoned pavilion is not something that I’ll be forgetting anytime soon. Carnival of Souls makes me excited about all the films out there that I have yet to see.

Lastly, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970). When I first watched it, I thought that it was a beautiful dream, but it didn’t really resonate in me. After a few weeks of letting it sit, however, I’ve realized how much I loved it. It was so sensual and wonderful–a trip-like haze. Fantasy, horror and soft-core makes for a bomb coming-of-age film.

This class was great fun, and I enjoyed it tremendously. IT WOULD BE GREAT IF, IN THE FUTURE, A CLASS ON THE FRENCH NEW WAVE WAS TAUGHT. Thank you Dr. Schlegel, and thank you classmates!

It’s no surprise to me that a lot of cult movies have links to drugs–both by drugs being featured in films and by gaining a reputation for ideal viewing in a drugged state. Films depicting drug use have been around since the birth of film. In fact, Edison made a 30-second long kinetograph in 1894 which featured opium smoking, Chinese Opium Den (which, by the way, is impossible to find because all that remains of this treasure is a single still image). Drugs, since the birth of the motion picture, have been exploited.

Cult director Dwain Esper was among the many who emerged after the Production Code was passed. Esper has made a wide array of films depicting drug use, which have developed some serious cult followings. Some notable Esper films depicting drug use are Narcotic (1933), Maniac (1934), and Reefer Madness (1936). Under the code, these films depicted drug use, and masked the exploitation with since-debunked information deemed educational. Between the ’30s and ’50s, films about drugs tended to be exploitative, sensationalizing the effect of drugs and their dangers.

As the code relaxed, things started getting weirder, which the reading “Cult Cinema and Drugs” did a good job describing:

As the stringent Production Code gradually eroded in the late 1950s and the1960s, there emerged a number of more daring cinematic depictions of drug use, many of which would become cult films. Of particular importance was the emergence of a youth market.

The ’60s saw a phenomenon–drugs became a symbol of pride and subversion. Around the mid 1960s, a number of exploitation films featuring acid and weed subsequently appeared. Some of the films that came out during this time were still moralistic at core, like Hallucination Generation (1966). Others, however, started to exploit the hell out of sex and drugs, and started showing the youth what they wanted to see, like Alice In Acidland (1969).

This era gave birth to “headsploitation” films, where films were specifically made to be experienced on drugs, or as a film identified by drug users as a film that can be pleasantly enhanced with the use of drugs.

Thus, a niche community – often with shared values – flocking around a film for a particular reason and with a ritualistic drug of choice to ingest for the occasion, fits comfortably into a movie cult.

I tried to do more research on headsploitation but, alas, the only thing I could find on headsploitation was what was cited in our reading, Charlie Haas’s “Headsploitation”.

This week’s screening, Sid and Nancy (1986) was very heavy, depicting a completely different side of drug-use than our previous screenings. This film resonated with me–like all heroin films–because my parents both survived heroin addiction. In fact, this film depicts the exact time in history where, like Sid and Nancy, my parents were hooked and hitting rock bottom.

The film was beautiful, dark and emotional, with wonderful performances from both Chloe Webb and Gary Oldman. I especially enjoyed the color palette of the film, the set design, and the costume design–it all felt very ’70s British punk scene. Something that I found especially interesting to learn about was Johnny Rotten’s reaction to the film. Here he is in an interview, calling Sid and Nancy “a degrading, stupid, lying piece of cheesiness bearing no sense of reality whatsoever.”

Music has always seemed a bit cult-like to me. I was raised as a rock baby through and through—my parents constantly listening to the Stones and Pink Floyd throughout my childhood. Most notably, however, were The Doors. Every single day that my father drove me to school, The Doors were always blasting. They kinda worshiped Jim Morrison and, honestly, same.

While I didn’t particularly enjoy this week’s screening, I did enjoy learning about the relationship of cult movies and music. Detroit Rock City (1999) falls under the first category that our “Cult Cinema and Music” reading breaks down: Rock Movies.

The reading describes these types of films as movies which primarily attract a following due to the cult reputation of the musical artists who feature within the film which was, in our case, KISS. I particularly enjoyed reading about the visual economy of rock.

Lawrence Grossberg has argued that rock itself is a visual form, in that its fans often encounter it through live or mediated performances, or through the visual containers of record sleeves. He also notes how different types of rock fans will often adopt specific dress codes and other stylistic markers.

I find it so interesting that the reading spoke about how different types of rock fans will often adopt specific dress codes. It’s funny how that applies to so many different eras of music—from psychedelic rock to grunge rock to hip-hop.

It was also interesting to read about cult cinema and musicals, considering the fact that one of the most iconic, if not the most, cult movies of all time is a musical—The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1995). I liked that the reading categorized The Sound of Music (1965) as a cult film—after a semester of watching the screenings we’ve had, it’s funny to see how a movie like The Sound of Music can fall under the same category as a film like Pink Flamingos (1972).

Funny enough, most of the music I’ve been listening to lately have been cult soundtracks. I’ve been bumping tunes from movies we’re watched all semester. In fact, I think that I can credit a large chunk of my taste in music to movies in general.

I completely understand the cultural significance of Detroit Rock City in the world of cult films, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t find the film enjoyable at all. Perhaps it’s because I don’t fall under any of the target market—I don’t like KISS, I don’t know Detroit, and I don’t like boyish-humor filled movies with numerous rape jokes. Also, the boys look more like Big Time Rush than anything (yes, even Edward Furlong).

Perhaps I didn’t like Detroit Rock City because, for me, it wasn’t drenched in nostalgia. To me, this film was a goofy, try-hard comedy with a pretty good soundtrack, but that’s just because I don’t have an emotional connection to so many of the film’s elements. Again, I completely understand the significance of this film—I just don’t get it.

In 1993, Dazed and Confused was released. It grossed just over $918 000 its opening weekend. Within a month of being released, Dazed and Confused was stripped from theaters, and had grossed less than half of its budget. Yet, somehow, Dazed and Confused became an inconic, nostalgic teenage cult classic.

Although Dazed and Confused saw the breakthrough performance of Matthew McConaughey, the real star of the movie was the soundtrack. 1976 was an important year for music and, to have a film set in that same year, it was crucial for the soundtrack to be bitchin’. The film starts off on a strong note, with Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” and ends off with Foghat’s “Slow Ride”. Apparently, one-sixth of the $6.8 million budget was spent on licensing the songs on the soundtrack, “Sweet Emotion” costing them $23 000. Rumor has it that director Richard Linklater made mixtapes for each cast member composed of songs that he felt their character would like.

In its slow and easy plot, Dazed and Confused focuses more on the feeling and nostalgia of its setting, than anything else. It exploits what everyone misses from their time in high-school, the ability to be completely aimless at no consequence. In fact, the most iconic lines of the film are delivered when the characters aren’t doing much, driving around and smoking joints. Everyone longs to be at the stage in high-school again where you can do literally nothing. Dazed and Confused gives everyone two hours to relive that feeling, and throws in David Wooderson as a reminder that no, you don’t want to be there forever.

For me, the best way to understand what this film meant to the generation that was in high-school in the ’70s, was to find an actual review of an audience member who had lived it all in real time, and then watched this film years later. I did just that, and found a quote from a random audience member:

The summer of 1976 I was going to be a junior in high school, I drove a 1967 Mustang, And worked at the local burger joint hangout. I experienced a summer of cruising the “Gut”, meeting new friends, Partying, and we had the best era of rock n roll ever! This movie is like reliving that time in my life, it’s as if watching a home video recorded in 1976. This is the best movie to watch if you want to know what life was like for high school teenagers going  into that first day of summer! Plus, an all star cast before they were stars! Can’t beat it! 

Michael Guinn

The thing that struck my interest the most this week, was reading about the nostalgia that dominated certain generations. For me, it was especially interesting to learn that the ‘70s and ‘80s (mostly ‘70s) had been plagued with a nostalgia of the ’50s. I had always wondered why some films and television shows, especially Twin Peaks (1990) had characters that looked like they had been plucked out of different eras. It now totally makes sense to me that the elements from the different eras that I was picking up in those films and television shows were because of the nostalgia of that generation.

One of our readings this week, “Outsider Nostalgia in Dazed and Confused and Detroit Rock City” describes this same phenomenon in the ’90s. “During the 1990s, American popular media evidenced a wave of nostalgia for the decade of the 1970s.” It’s interesting that this film was born from the nostalgia of a generation.

Lastly, shoutout to the homies Mary and Mia for some kick-ass presentations! Megan Fox hot!

I’m one of those people who, when watching movies, relishes in the visual aesthetics more than any other element. Suspiria (1977) was a feast, I devoured every inch of the screen. Universally regarded as one of Argento’s greatest accomplishments, Suspiria is a hyper-stylized masterpiece—a gory, visual and colorful one at that. 

Suspiria is the first in a trilogy (Le Tre madri) of supernatural horror films by Italian film director Dario Argento. When seeking a new creative direction, Argento decided to draw inspiration from the macabre lore of Old Europe. The other two films in the trilogy are Inferno (1980) and Mother of Tears (2007). Simply put, each film deals with one of the titular “Mothers”, a trio of ancient witches. Suspiria deals with the Mother of Sighs, hence the latin title “breathlessness.”

The film is a “giallo” film, which is essentially an Italian exploitation film. Italian for mystery fiction, a giallo is a hyper-stylized that often includes gory murders and erotic themes. Giallo is defined by “outrageous design, bold close-ups, intense color, memorable scores filled with sighs and shards of sound, and strange, gruesome murders performed by a very particular type of villain.” They’re often lush, colorful and make for great midnight movies. While it may seem like Suspiria perfectly ticks off each criteria, it’s another Argento film that takes the cake for arguably the ultimate giallo movie: Deep Red (1975). 

Suspiria is a visual assault, from the moment Suzy reaches the exterior of the Tanz Dance Academy. The lighting and the film sets paint the screen with beautiful, vivid colors that are captivating and unsettling. The vast majority of the shots in the film are painted with a singular color that dominates the screen, a chromatic journey.

“We were trying to reproduce the colour of Walt Disney’s Snow White; it has been said from the beginning that Technicolor lacked subdued shades, [and] was without nuances—like cut-out cartoons.”

Argento on the colors of Suspiria

These few stills from the film really showcase the magnificent use of colors throughout the film:

What struck me the most in the film was remarkable architecture and décor. Designer Giuseppe Bassan was instructed, by Argento, to recreate some pieces of furniture based on the German Art Deco and Art Nouveau styles, which shines through throughout the entire film. The academy is adorned with features of Art Nouveau, most noticeably the feminine arches of the doors and windows. Other rooms in the academy are as Art Deco as can be, which is extremely noticeable during Patricia’s death. 

Lastly, the score of the film is something of wonders, a synth masterpiece. This Goblin chef-d’œuvre shot straight up to my favorite horror soundtrack of all time. Argento wanted Goblin’s score to set Suspiria apart from his other films. Not only has Suspiria gained a huge, unwavering cult following, the soundtrack also helped Goblin pick up a cult following. In the ’70s, it was still pretty rare to hear a synth in film scores.

“You would never use a synth to do soundtracks [then]. Normally it would be made with an orchestra, or with a band. No one was using a synthesizer for that. I think we were maybe one of the first using [the synthesiser], then in the ‘80s the synthesizer and drum machine became more famous and it became more usual.”

Claudio Simonetti 

I know I say this practically every week, but I loved every second of Suspiria, and it will stick with me for a while.

This week was a bit rocky, considering everything that’s currently happening on campus and in the world, but we somehow managed to make it work. Our screening this week, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970), was by far the highlight of my week, a sort of escapism that I didn’t know I needed.

The entire film felt like a trip–unearthly from start to finish. I would like to start off by speaking about the mise-en-scène of the film. Perhaps it’s the fact that it was impossible to follow the plot, but the entire film had a very heavy mannerist feel to it all, full of hyper-idealization, distorted human forms and ambiguous spaces. I had no idea where the film was set (or when) and Jana Prikryl’s “Valerie and Her Week of Wonders: Grandmother, What Big Fangs You Have!” explains the reason behind this beautifully, staying:

“Aside from the folkloric nub of the story—in which a thirteen-year-old girl is initiated into the perilous world of adult desire—little about this fantasia reflects its time and place. Maybe that’s why, over the last forty-five years, it has peeled off from its historical moment and been embraced by foreign audiences, who have kept it in circulation because of how irresistibly it combines some very soft-core delights with the trappings of horror. “

Jana Prikryl

More so, I was totally enamored by the set designs, especially Valerie’s white room:

Something that was incredibly interesting to me, was the intersection of so many different genres–fantasy, horror and soft-core (everything you need for a bomb coming-of-age film). In the late ’60s, other directors were starting to play around with the intersection of horror and sex, like in Roman Polanski’s ‘delightfully sardonic’ The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967), and in Ingmar Bergman’s Hour of the Wolf (1968).

I loved Valerie and Her Week of Wonders because it felt incredibly nostalgic to me. For some weird reason–weird because before this week, I had never watched Valerie and Her Week of Wonders–it transported me back to the really intense Sunday-blues I would get in high-school, which I would cope with by watching weird films in bed all day. A lot of the time, I associate nostalgia with surrealism and dreamlike memories, which is perhaps why Valerie and Her Week of Wonders felt so familiar. I found a quote about this film (more specifically, the surrealism in this film) which, hopefully, helps to explain what I’m trying to say:

By their very nature, surrealistic or phantasmagorical films offer little to those who fail to connect with a specific, bizarre juxtaposition of images and ideas, aimed directly at the viewer’s central nervous system. There’s not much in the way of a middle ground when it comes to such works—one is either delighted and transfixed or bored to tears. 

Mike D’Angelo

While this has not been my favorite screening of the semester, this film was by far one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen. The whole film looked like a dream.

I would like to dedicate my blogpost this week entirely to The Warriors (1979) because I haven’t felt this way about a film in a very long time. Although I was excited about the screening, considering the fact that I had never watched it, The Warriors exceeded all of my expectations. From the very first opening scene, I was completely engrossed in the film. It was an orgy of violence, vinyl and anarchy, and I loved it.

With its stylin’ opening image, artful and highly-stylized shots, staggering costumes and a KILLER soundtrack to accompany it, the opening scene of The Warriors set the tone for what was both a powerful and extremely satisfying film. Not to mention the eccentric costumes of all the gangs.

The film already had a strong comic book feel to it–the characters looked perfectly picked from comics, and the fight scenes were perfectly choreographed. The DJ scenes had a very familiar comic book feel to them, and the lighting of those shots complimented that style perfectly. The comic book style transitions added to feel of it all, the cherry on top of the cake. Here are two of my favorite scenes from the film, accompanied by great songs I’ve been bumping all week.

The film was shot almost entirely on location in the streets, subway stations and trains of New York City–except for the iconic fight scene. Upon release, the film had already gained a fanbase, and some controversy surrounding the marketing of the film. Posters that were plastered over the city read, “These are the armies of the night. They are 100,000 strong. They outnumber the cops five to one. They could run New York City. Tonight they’re all out to get the Warriors,” caused some unease amongst citizens of New York were soon removed.

The Warriors, although set in the near-future (I love it when films are set in the near-future), portrayed something very true about Coney Island, and the five boroughs. In the ’70s, when Coney Island’s first low-income housing complex was built (Carey Gardens), there were gangs that ruled nearly every neighborhood in New York. When The Warriors was released in 1979, an atmosphere of danger was already hanging over the city.

Since its initial release in 1979, The Warriors‘s cult following has grown largely, and keeps growing. It was a film that, with a budget of $4,000,000, relied on the quality of the story (loosely based on Sol Yurick’s 1965 novel of the same name), the power of the images, and the audience that watched it to gain notoriety. To this day, fans still organize meetups and events, the cast even met up a few years ago for a “last subway ride.”

It remains and extremely quotable film, with lines like:

“Can you dig it?”

Cyrus

“I’ll shove that bat up your ass and turn you into a popsicle.”

Ajax (My favorite Warrior, I’m a fan of James Remar.)

“Fuckin’ A!”

Ajax

“Warriooooors! Come out to play-ay!”

Luther

As you can probably tell, this has been my favorite screening in class thus far. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack all week, won’t stop quoting it, and have already rewatched it. A great film, that will stick with me for a while.