Flash Gordon (1980 film)

I missed seeing this film, produced by Dino De Laurentiis and directed by Mike Hodges, back when it was first released.  I had been due to see it at the cinema with a group of friends, but fell ill at the last moment.  Only recently did I get the opportunity to watch the picture in its entirety.

Some would contend that had the soundtrack music not been part of Queen's catalogue, it might have sunk into genuine obscurity, but I gather that it has attracted a cult following over the years. It is true that its style and elements of its storyline were influenced by Star Wars, but of course George Lucas himself was inspired by the Flash Gordon serials of the past.  The opening titles of Flash Gordon look like an attempt to invoke the comic-strip tradition, and link this film to that heritage.

The first thing to mention is that the movie is visually very appealing, and I'm not just talking about Ornella Muti and Melody Anderson.  The colours are vivid (I was almost reminded of The Wizard Of Oz), the costumes lavish and extravagant, and the special effects impressive for the most part.

The plot is fairly standard "save the Earth" fare, with Flash uniting various factions to take on Ming the Merciless and his imperial designs. There are sub-texts about the need to unite against a common foe, the futility of petty disputes and so forth, but these are kept largely in the background.

Down the years this film has gathered a reputation for its kitsch flavour, although one problem I detected was that it couldn't decide to what degree it should be taken seriously. Also, one or two scenes lack conviction and/or polish, and almost have the feel of rehearsals, with the dialogue being delivered in a half-baked manner. In a way, though, this all adds to the quirkiness of the piece.

The acting I would have to describe as a mixed bag, even allowing for the frivolous tone of the film. Sam J Jones is likeable in the lead role, if a touch wooden. The substance is added by the supporting cast, such as Timothy Dalton, Chaim Topol and Brian Blessed (in his element here!).

Scenes which stand out are the ludicrous but enjoyable and humorous "football" sequence, and the bit where Dr. Zarkov is subjected to flashbacks and attempted brainwashing.

The Mongo imagery and analogies are not especially original, with clear allusions to certain sinister things which occurred in the first half of the twentieth century, shall we say. In the interaction between Flash and Ming, I sensed vague and loose echoes of the Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader dynamic, or perhaps I was looking out too assiduously for such parallels.

Arguably this film goes on for too long, with one or two scenes which act as padding.  On the other hand, we are afforded a view of how the various warring groups come together, and this is not portrayed as straightforward, with trials of strength being endured before all parties see sense.

In the end, I quite enjoyed this movie, for all its flaws.  It has an idiosyncratic charm and identity all its own, and it is easy to see why so many people remain fond of it.

Flash Gordon - Queen

Yesterday, prompted by the occasion of what would have been Freddie Mercury's 70th birthday, I decided that it would be a good idea to commit to blog form some of my thoughts about one of Queen's least remembered and appreciated projects, the soundtrack to the 1980 film Flash Gordon.

These days it seems to me that the album is regarded as an afterthought, almost as an aberration, and not really taken that seriously, a novelty or curiosity within the context of an overall body of work. However, whenever I go back and listen to the music, I am reminded what a compact and polished piece of work it is, within certain parameters.

I am not really qualified to comment with much authority on how the music complemented the visuals in the film itself, as I find it difficult to bring myself to watch the movie.  In fact, one or two critics have argued, rather persuasively, that Queen's music is one of the film's few redeeming features.

When appraising the Flash Gordon album, one must also bear in mind that it was recorded within a tight timeframe, sessions being squeezed in around the hectic schedule which Queen were pursuing around that time, and time had to be found alongside the band's myriad other commitments. The finished result is a quiet tribute to their resourcefulness and their talents.

Of course, the project represented a stylistic departure for Queen, with the preponderance of instrumentals and the heavy utilization of synthesizers.  The decision to make the soundtrack album "narrative" in nature, and to insert dialogue from the motion picture, was an inspired one. The whole "Flash Gordon" experience can be savoured without the need to subject oneself to the movie itself.

The songwriting and composition process must have involved different disciplines, too, with pieces written "to order" rather than coming from the heart. Many of the pieces do not make much sense outside the context of the soundtrack.  They were not seeking to make a magnum opus, but to create music to fit certain scenes, sequences and moods.

The title track and "The Hero" are to the clearly identifiable conventional songs, and they bookend the record.  Some of the instrumentals are "rock" with contemporary and modernistic embellishments, usually in the form of those synths, which Queen had famously shunned until not that long before this album was recorded.  There are some genuinely affecting and haunting melodies in there ("In The Space Capsule", "Ming's Theme" etc), whilst others are rather more prosaic.

So it is unfair to judge the Flash Gordon soundtrack album by the same criteria as one would a standard studio release. There are not as many accessible tunes as on the bland soundtrack albums which began to proliferate in the 1980s. This is, in many respects, a "true" soundtrack, in that the music is specifically designed to accompany and complement the visuals on the screen.

It is not a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, but it is highly enjoyable.

Raging Bull (1980)

I recently watched Raging Bull, Martin Scorsese's 1980 biopic of the boxer Jake LaMotta, starring Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Cathy Moriarty. Here are a few of my thoughts on the movie....

The film has a distinctive and strong visual appeal, partially based on it being in black and white. Somehow the grittiness, and occasional brutality, of the tale is conveyed much more strongly that way. The film has a great period feel, and not just traceable to the monochrome being chosen. The "retro" settings are beautifully realized and convincing, unlike many movies of this type.

Raging Bull's fight sequences are very famous, and justifiably so, but they take up less of the picture's running time than some people might imagine. Much more of the film is taken up with a compelling, and sometimes unsettling, examination of LaMotta's insecurities and demons.

Of the boxing scenes, some are quite graphic, the final encounter with Sugar Ray Robinson standing out in this respect. These parts of the film, including the crowd scenes, are also well produced, succeeding where so many other sports-orientated pictures fall down. The scenes in the ring are short and snappy, and not quite as "arty" and surreal as is often thought.

In some ways, I think that Raging Bull is a slow burner, and its early stages could strike some observers as slow and pedestrian.  However, its greatness gradually emerges as it goes along, and the stellar performance of Robert De Niro has a strong bearing on this. Strangely enough, he is so consummate, natural and plausible in the role that the brilliance of his portrayal of the boxer can almost pass unnoticed. Of course, Joe Pesci shines in the part of LaMotta's brother Joey, as does Cathy Moriarty as Jake's wife. Whatever happened to Cathy Moriarty, by the way?

This may be a film whose true impact can only be fully absorbed following a few repeated viewings. The "human interest" angles mean that one does not need to be a boxing aficionado to enjoy and embrace it. It can also be argued that it is one of the last examples of a golden age of American cinema which began in the late Sixties.

All in all, a gripping and powerful work.

Hold Out - Jackson Browne - album review

Continuing my exploration of the albums of Jackson Browne, we come now to the great man's 1980 release, Hold Out, the only album of his to top the American Billboard charts.

Coming after the "experimental" and idiosyncratic Running On Empty, this record is a more conventional and slick mainstream singer-songwriter rock album, and in some respects it picks up where 1976's The Pretender left off, serving as the far side of the hinge of Browne's career.

When I first listened to Hold Out, my reaction was that it sounded a touch soulless, like much "album rock" of that time. However, I soon realized that my assessment was flawed. It had only seemed relatively soulless, because I had heard it back-to-back with Jackson's classic "organic" sounding music from the 1970s. Closer inspection revealed hidden depths, and it remains to me one of his unfairly overlooked works, although it contains only seven songs!

Although Hold Out is deceptively meritorious in a purely musical sense, there is a case for arguing that lyrically some water-treading is in evidence. If anything, the subject matter is, by and large, less weighty and profound than on his previous LPs. Any social commentary is very mild, and is confined to "Disco Apocalypse" and "Boulevard". That said, the "personal" lyrics on a couple of the compositions are very moving and affecting.

Instrumentally, the accent is very much on keyboards, with little in the way of acoustic guitar work to be had. Thankfully, the subtle and soothing tones of David Lindley's lap steel feature prominently on several numbers. Also, acoustic piano survives, and the layers of keyboards give genuine texture to a few of the tracks, with the assistance Hammond organ. Any synthesizer work is very unobtrusive, and is employed primarily to accentuate melody and atmosphere.

The opening track on the album is "Disco Apocalypse", a dark and atmospheric song suffused with the aforementioned keyboards, in this case organ and electric piano.  The title track follows, with an expressive Browne vocal, and a bland if endearing melody, and the first appearance here of the Lindley alchemy on lap steel.

The production on this album has a glossy feel, which is not unusual for the early eighties, but I would contend that this does not suffocate the emotion, nuance and melody of the set. The separation between instruments is pronounced, and this is exemplified by "That Girl Could Sing".

"Boulevard" is the nearest thing on the album to a catchy, up-tempo commercial song, with an energetic "new wave" blue-collar flavour, the sort of track which would become a staple of American mainstream rock in the years which followed. It is often forgotten how much Jackson Browne pioneered this particular "sub-genre", at least in sonic terms.

Without doubt the most emotionally charged song is "Of Missing Persons", written largely in tribute to Jackson's friend, the late Lowell George of Little Feat.  The song is dominated by the vocal, seized with sincerity and sadness, and the poetic Lindley lap steel work.

"Let's Call It A Loan" then offers some light relief, preparing for the epic closer, "Hold On Hold Out", which almost has a suite-like quality, and the most grandiose arrangement on the whole album. The full range of keyboards is deployed, and the slide guitar again comes to the fore.

Hold Out often gets lost, as it falls between Browne's critically acclaimed early work and his more socially conscious albums of the 1980s.  However, it is worthy of respect, being an entertaining and superbly crafted record.

Formula 1 in 1980

I recently blogged about the 1978 Monaco Grand Prix:

1978 Monaco Grand Prix

In that article, I speculated that the race signified in some respects the end of an era, with changes, both technological and commercial, afoot, or at least on the horizon. 

Following on from the Monaco article, I also recently watched some footage from the 1980 Canadian Grand Prix, in Montreal.  It was instructive to see how many of the impending upheavals discernible just over two years earlier had now come to pass, or were firmly entrenched.

Ground effect cars were now de rigueur, and the beginnings of today's Grand Prix "circus" were now more fully noticeable, albeit in a relatively embryonic form.

The Formula 1 cars of 1980 were nowhere near as immediately lovable, or as individualistic, as they had been in the Spring of 1978, but all the same they possessed a certain primal, savage beauty.  The attentions of the aerodynamicists, and more pointedly their wind tunnels, were beginning to reap their "benefits".

It was not just the cars that had changed.  Niki Lauda and James Hunt had both retired, and former champions Jody Scheckter and Emerson Fittipaldi were uncompetitive, and also destined to exit the stage. A new generation was emerging, to dominate the early to mid-1980s, in the form of Nelson Piquet, Alain Prost, Rene Arnoux, Didier Pironi and others.

The teams which had loomed so large in the preceding decade, such as Ferrari, Lotus, McLaren and Tyrrell were all at sea, although the green shoots of McLaren's renaissance were just visible.  The centre of gravity of F1 had been disturbed, and the resultant disorientation is one of the things which makes the 1979-1981 era a touch nebulous and disconcerting for many.  For the open-minded though, there was still much to fascinate and enthuse over...

I may be slightly biased in my own assessment, as I became interested in the sport in 1981. However, even from the vantage point of 2012, those years do have a slightly sterile and uninspiring air about them. There was neither the variety and charisma of the 1970s, nor the distilled and untamed drama of the turbocharged era which was to follow.  In this respect, I see the late 70s/early 80s, as a period of transition, rather than an era in itself.

The racing in Montreal was close and exciting, although there was an accident at the start, which caused proceedings to be halted. Nelson Piquet was badly affected, having to revert to his spare car, but valiantly led the early laps until his engine cried enough.  Pironi having being penalised for a jumped start, this paved the way for Alan Jones to cruise home in relative comfort, thereby clinching the world title.

I suppose that Jones is remembered as one of the less "glamorous" world champions, but his success in 1980 was fully merited.  He was a natural charger, and had paid his dues in Formula 1.  He had dominated the latter portion of 1979, but was too late to contend for the top prize.  In 1981, he would prove that he was a worthy champion by driving arguably even better than before, only to be plagued by ill-fortune.

One of the less savoury spectacles of the 1980 Canadian round was the serious accident suffered by Jean-Pierre Jabouille in the Renault, and the failure to stop the race, even while he was being extricated from the car and given medical treatment at the side of the track.  Such a thing would be inconceivable and unthinkable today.  The race would be red-flagged promptly.  Clearly, even in 1980, F1 still had a long way to go in some respects.

That was "the way we were" in 1980.....