Film Muse: Viva Las Vegas

Recently, I was riding the bus home when a friend of mine happened to hop on at the downtown stop. We chatted about what most friends talk about: work, roommates, future plans, and current romantic timelines. I learned that her and her boyfriend had traveled down to the west coast and ended up staying in Las Vegas, Nevada for a night. However the details of Las Vegas were depressing - terrible casino culture, hot weather, and a sugar daddy sighting that looked more like a grandfather walking arm in arm with his granddaughter.

As she got off at her stop, I thought about a movie I'd seen recently: Viva Las Vegas (1964) directed by George Sidney.  Starring in the film was none other than the king himself, Elvis Presley, as well as another hot celebrity of the era, Ann-Margret. The film was electrifying and painted Las Vegas as the time capsuled city we all imagine: dazzling gold lights, hot neon cowboy signs, with every street corner draped in homage to Americana's sultry allure.  Yet what's even more exhilarating is Elvis and Ann-Margret's obvious on set chemistry.

This musical/romance/comedy is absolutely salacious in the best way possible. Lucky Jackson (Elvis) is a traveling dare devil, looking to win the Grand Prix Race with the help of a new engine for his car. He soon runs out of money and attempts to find a way to pay for his hotel bill, as well as that special engine. While staying at his hotel he meets Rusty (Ann-Margret), the swimming pool instructor. The two begin to play tug-of-war with each other's affections, Lucky determined to win Rusty's love.

One of the first characteristics of this film that I fell in love with was the color palette.  It's the epitome of '60s pop art design. Clementine corals, baby blues, red hot turtlenecks - this film does it so well. A nice color palette is something that we don't see too often in modern day cinema, in my opinion. I think some directors forget how important it is to have an organized color scheme, for it is vital to establish a visual tone. After all, we are all voyeurs in cinema in some way or another- we crave beautiful and interesting things to look at. 

Then there is the pop culture history of the two stars. Whether you like them or not, Elvis and Ann-Margret were forces to be reckoned with. Elvis at the time was tired of doing B-movies to keep his career afloat during the rising Beatlemania era, where Ann-Margret was the new hot actress in the Hollywood scene. Priscilla, Elvis' homegrown wife to be, was in hysterics when she read that the two were having a fling on set. It was known that Ann-Margret was the female version of Elvis' better self: fiery, full of passion and talent. The way the two looked at each other during the film was clearly more than just acting. Although the soundtrack flubbed in sales, the movie itself stayed afloat due to their undeniable infatuation for each other. 

It was also rumored that the director of Viva Las Vegas was just as infatuated with Ann-Margret as Elvis was, and maybe even more. Tension grew between managers as Sidney gave Ann-Margret more dance numbers with countless takes and increasing air time. Many noted that Ann-Margret nearly stole the show, which was unheard of when you put a major player like Elvis in a feature film.  Even I can't argue with her allure. Sometimes I find myself fantasizing over her beautiful shade of strawberry blonde hair......... I digress. 

Much to my own dismay, I won't lie to you when I say the film gets a little stiff 3/4ths of the way through. Some iffy sexism (among other issues) leaks through the mirage of the glamorous Las Vegas scenery. I find that happens with most older films that I watch. Yet I still find that I can view this film with the same amount of awe that captured me originally. I can still feel the romance between the two, even though the bigger picture is a bit more sour. Elvis' career (which skyrocketed from his appropriation of many lesser know black artists) went downhill a few years later, despite a spike in his comeback performance ('68 Comeback Special). By the early '70s, his marriage to Priscilla crumbled and his prescription drug abuse ended his life on August 16th, 1977. Ann-Margret is still alive to this day, married to Roger Smith. 

Viva Las Vegas will always be one of those movies I'll look back onto fondly. The chemistry, the colors, the unapologetic lush consumerism of the '60s makes me giddy in the most unexpected ways. Watching the film will transport you into a hazy hue of a warm and tender idyllic love stupor, if you let do so.

-Lauren Rose

Curbside Fashion

P.S. Here are some loved songs from the film, or that reminded me of the film. 

The Lady Loves Me - Elvis Presley

Today, Tomorrow, and Forever - Elvis Presley

The Other Woman - Lana Del Rey

 P.P.S. Rose McGowan and Jonathan Rhys Meyers depicted the iconic duo in Elvis: The Miniseries (2005) and Rose looked absolutely STUNNING. 

Film Muse: Smooth Talk

When I was a senior in high school my AP English teacher passed out a short story by Joyce Carol Oates called Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? (1966) (read here).  I remember the paper copies being limply tossed around the room - no one wanted to read it. The students were always rowdy during that time of the year, especially on hot and sticky days. I stuffed the handout into my backpack and didn't pull it out later until lunch:

"Her name was Connie."

Connie is a young woman who looks at herself in the mirror a bit too much. She is only 15 years old but knows how to change her demeanor in the blink of an eye, being classically trained in the act of being a woman. Her mother barks at her, comparing Connie to her perfect and more modest sister June. She criticizes her for lulling in trashy daydreams and dancing to rock music. 

But Connie takes the hits, because she knows that soon her best friend's dad will pick them up to go to the shopping plaza. Her and her friends will be able to escape into their budding lives of being teenagers - browsing store windows, gawking at boys, and running across the highway to the forbidden drive-in.

Oates' Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? was later adapted into a film called Smooth Talk in 1985 by Joyce Chopra (see stills). Smooth Talk is almost a word for word adaptation of the short story, apart from the ending. Laura Dern plays Connie brilliantly - innocent yet grown. Connie and her friends relish in the moments of summertime, hopping from store to store. As Roger Ebert puts it, "they parade through the mall, attracting attention they do not know how to handle". 

I remember riding my shitty Target bike to the rundown church playground with my friends, feeling as if we'd outgrown the place in an impressive way. We'd go on the rusty swings and pump our legs, seeing which one of us could go higher than the other. Sometimes we'd wish that the elusive neighborhood boys would come out with their BB guns, and sometimes they did. We never knew their names - they went to a different school, but we'd get underdogs from them and watch them hilariously throw Frisbe's at each other (aiming for the nards of course). We'd leave them high and dry, grabbing our bikes and riding off across the parking lot into the sunset. 

I remember the thrill of those preteen years. Nothing feels cooler than strolling into Southdale Mall with your girl crew, oblivious to the strange older men who would stare. Or after seeing a movie, we'd wait outside along the flickering poster displays watching older teens arrive for the super late showings. One day that would be us. We'd have our own cars and do whatever we wanted. Then - one of my friend's dad would pull up and snap us out of it. But it felt nice sitting in the back of their car, safe. 

Oates describes the electricity of being young and (seemingly) free in a painfully beautiful way. 

"They rode off with the girl's father, sleepy and pleased, and Connie 

couldn't help but look back at the darkened shopping plaza with its big empty parking lot and its signs that were faded and ghostly 

now, and over at the drive-in restaurant where cars were still circling tirelessly. She couldn't hear the music at this distance."

Although Connie's era was narratively driven by sex, radios, and drive-ins, the reader can't help but relate the story to their own generation. The feelings of curiosity and wanting to be wanted are universal to many young women. Yet as we've all learned, these feelings are destined to expire and become hardened. 

The story takes a dim turn when Arnold Friend shows up. He originally spots Connie at the drive-in, marking her with a big X. He's shaggy, wears sunglasses at night, and mimics the James Deans of the generation. Elusive, but pervasive. As Connie returns, she is left home alone while her family goes out to a barbecue. Out of the blue, a gold convertible pulls up with the same boy from the diner. But he isn't a boy. He's a man. He has come to shatter Connie's dreams of independence and love. He has come to take her away.

The Arnold Friend storyline really messes me up. There are a few tracks that we can go down, so bear with me. First of all - Oates made this character after the infamous Pied Piper of Tuscon: Charles Schmid. During the 1960s, 'Smitty' murdered three teenage girls with the help of this friends and 19 year old girlfriend. Being described as a "pipsqueak" of a guy, Smitty was a classic overcompensating ego-maniac standing 5'3. He'd stuff his boots with Coke cans to make him seem taller, put on pan makeup to seem tanner. Girls loved him, they ride in his car and go on dates. He was a misogynist that got his fix by luring innocent girls. 

It's interesting because Oates mentioned how she wasn't exactly fascinated by Charles Schmid for the story, but rather by his friends and lover that helped him carry out the crimes. What would drive the youth to do that?

Then there was a lot of talk about if this film could be classified as a piece of feminist work or not. The story leaves the plot open ended: Friend demands Connie to get in his car, leave her family, and let him have her. In the film, Connie takes the ride and is dropped off at home where she presents to nonchalantly tell her sister about the event.

What does this mean?  That Arnold Friend's talk made sense, and that she secretly desired to be taken away? That the event was punishment for expressing her sexuality? That all young girls secretly desire the protection and domination of men?

I think that is all bullshit. This is not a sensationalized morality tale. I see the story and film as a painful recollection of what it means to become a woman. Arnold Friend emotionally rapes Connie and tries to permanently change who she is. As Connie grabs the telephone and cries out for her mother, she realizes that she isn't a girl anymore. She realizes that she has been thrust into a world that is full of  condemnations and false roads that lead to dead ends. She selflessly realizes that the only way out is to submit to Friend, which in turn saves her family.

Isn't that what we all do? We sink into our roles to make everything a bit easier even though it terrifies us sometimes. This isn't a gutless girl being hypnotized by some crazy psychopath. She just understood too much a little bit too late.

Oates dedicated Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? to Bob Dylan. What does that mean? Dylan was a legend during the 1960s progressive movement, calling out society left and right. Was this act of dedication that of a plea? A plea to recognize what most people still didn't? Maybe she saw something in one of his songs. Maybe she thought he'd see something more in this story. I still don't know exactly why she dedicated the story to him.

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start a new
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

This story is important. This story is relevant. This story is sad.

You can feel it ache in your bones, even if you don't share the explicit experiences. This is a story about what it means to be a young girl thrust upon our predetermined culture. There's a spot for you already made. Connie had to take it. Are you going to take it?

-Lauren Rose

Curbside Fashion

Film Muse: Les Demoiselles de Rochefort

Bonjour mes amis! 

In an effort to make myself do well in french class, I've taken upon watching french films. Which in turn has led me to not completing all of my french homework. I'm trying.

Today's Film Muse is 1967's Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (The Young Girls of Rochefort) directed by Jacques Demy. If you are a fan of the French New Wave, or directors like Godard and Truffaut, you're going to see a lot of familiar faces in this film. In particular, Catherine Deneuve (blonde twin) who worked with Roman Polanski in Repulsion a couple years before. Basically, this film is a awesome starting place to get into the French New Wave as well as 60's cinema for all you film buffs out there. 

 This musical centers around two dreamy twins, Delphine and Solange Garnier. They don't really exhibit any flaws - as in - they are perfect. Solange can play any instrument she picks up and Delphine teaches dance classes in their apartment. It seems like everyone in this film, including the twins, are looking for their ideal lover. Their soulmate. How ROMANTIC! Maxence, a overly fetishized french military boy/painter (hot), sings AND dances while talking about his "feminine ideal", just to give you a taste of the passion to come.  To be honest, this movie is so cliché it will make you want to barf at times. The inner feminist in me cringes at the misogyny and trope characters, but hey! Who says a girl can't like problematic media? 

Can we just talk about this design of this film for a second? Or the 1960's in general? The pastels. The pink shutters. The perfectly groomed hair (wigs?). The geometry. The matching dress/tights/shoes. The painted buildings.  Everything. I could go on and on. 

I know I've talked about how pining over the glamorized past ('90s nostalgia video) is pretty harmful, but I can't help but wish I lived in the 60's right now. At least, aesthetically. I wish America was still overly superficial, still enjoyed and celebrated art, and still at least warmed up to gender fluidity (shout out to the male dancers in this film). I mean, this movie is in France, but the U.S. was pretty rad back in the day too. 

Every shot in this film has a purpose. Every prop has a purpose. You can tell that the people who were the set and costume designers LOVED this film so much. You can really see how much work they put into it. It just makes me happy, but also a bit sad. 

One of my favorite outfit combos in the film happens to be worn by a couple secondary characters. These punk rock dancers decide to leave their asshole partners (hell yeah) a couple days before their performance . The matching shirts immediately caught my eye. Silver and gold? Glittery? Neck scarves ? Beautiful.

And their pants! Vintage 60's disco pants, I die. Metallic silver and gold AGAIN. Matchy-matchy. Ugh. So into it. I apologize for not writing in complete sentences but I literally cannot get past this look. In conjunction with their amazingly perfect hair-dos and makeup looks, these killer babes finally say au revoir to their counterparts, but of course not without a dance sequence first. 

Like a mentioned earlier (in a fragmented manner), I loved the set design of this film as well. In particular, there was a shot where Delphine's dress matched the building she was walking by. Can that be a thing? Matching your clothes to building colors? They even painted the fire hydrant pink when Delphine crashes into a mystery man (in a pastel purple suit, mind you). 

Overall, this film is pretty happy-go-lucky. There aren't any painful scenes. You can expect a song every 10 minutes minimum. I know that doesn't sound like many people's cup of tea, but if anything, you should watch this film to remember what 60's pop art/ French New Wave cinema used to be. Remember it and respect it for what it was, and what we have lost. I found myself wondering where all of these beautiful clothes went. In some storage closet? A charity shop? A landfill? R.I.P. excessive and beautiful living. 

Well, that about does it for my Film Muse. I hope you all enjoyed this random pick. If you know of any great french films you think I should check out, leave them in the comments down below. With that, I will leave you with one of my favorite scenes of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort. Have a good one!

-Lauren Rose

Curbside Fashion