MEDIA COOL

MEDIA COOL

This month’s Media Cool was written by Bill Holdship and Cynthia Rose

THE BEDROOM WINDOW (DEG)

Writer-director Curtis Hanson has succeeded admirably at what Brian DePalma has been failing at since Dressed To Kill: a cinematic homage to Alfred Hitchcock that doesn’t degenerate into a misogynistic parody. Although a willing suspension of disbelief is a must, the chills are real, even when Hanson is obviously borrowing scenes (and ideas) from classics like Rear Window and the second version of The Man Who Knew Too Much. The acting is notable, although Isabelle Huppert’s main talent seems to be for baring her bkckside in everything I’ve seen her do thus far. Elizabeth McGovern is superb, as always, and while Steve Guttenberg ain’t exactly James Stewart or Cary Grant, he manages to transcend his Police Academy/Cocoon reputation with a very believable performance. Plus, along with the recent Manhunter, the film features one of the most hateful, unsympathetic psychopaths to ever appear on a screen. B.H.

’ROUND MIDNIGHT (Warner Bros.)

Bernard Tavernier’s splendid film builds a poignant portrait of two lifestyles (that of the fan and that of the musician) as it shows them briefly intersecting. Young French artist-designer Francis is rearing his small daughter alone, but by night he haunts jazz venues, listening from outside whenever he’s short of cash. One such evening, he manages to speak to his idol Dale Turner (tenor great Dexter Gordon playing a composite of himself, Bud Powell and Lester Young). He has indeed met Turner “round midnight”: the musician is a fatalistic alcoholic, isolated and on his way out. Shocked, the nervous Francis takes things into his own hands—he hits up the ex-wife for funds and moves Turner into his frugal domestic menage. For a little while, all three are happy. But when Turner returns to his nihilistic life in New York, Francis is forced to realize how little they bould really have in common—and how elusive is any real knowledge of his idol. It’s a sad, moving film, illuminated by the inimitable presence of Gordon. Stately and sophisticated, the gravel-voiced star commands attention for every moment of his screen time. C»R.

FRANK UNAUTHORIZED BIOGRAPHY WAY: SINATRA THE OF by Kitty Kelley (Bantam)

Just got around to reading this, since Bantam wouldn’t send us a review copy and I had to wait for Christmas. It’s very readable, as you probably know by now—but it’s also much better written and researched than the various magazine and newspaper excerpts conveyed. This alone makes it superior to Goldman’s Elvis. The excerpts also didn’t prepare me for the shock of what a creep Sinatra appears to be: an insecure little man who bullied and manipulated his way to the top, and hasn’t stopped bullying and manipulating since he got there. It actually makes you wonder whether the man has as much talent as people have presumed—or whether a jot of it is based on the selfimage he’s created. It also raises the issue of whether a man’s art can be tarnished by the way he chooses to live his life. You can answer that question by reading the book yourself. Despite the horror, it’s a fascinating read, having as much to say about America (from Hoboken to Reagan) as it does about Ol’ Blue Eyes himself. B.H.

WIRE

(British Jazz Fanzine)

For today’s real word on jazz (and other free or outlaw musics), fans all over the globe are currently turning to Britain’s Wire. Edited since May ’85 by ex-NME man Richard Cook— and elegantly designed by Paul Elliman—Wire is a de facto class act. First and foremost it covers jazz, but you can also find the likes of Test Department, Holger Miller and Frank Zappa considered within, not to mention Pablo Picasso. In less than a year, this philosophy has doubled Wire's circulation figures—as well as Cook’s bill at the tailor. You can get your copies air mailed for a year by sending 40 bucks to: Wire, Units G & H, 115 Cleveland St., London W1P 5PN, England. C.R.

BRIGHTON BEACH MEMOIRS (Universal)

Talk about a disappointment! Onstage, Brighton Beach Memoirs was probably the best thing Neil Simon ever wrote. An autobiographical comedy-drama, it didn’t exactly tread into Eugene O’Neill territory, although it did seem to include elements from all the great “family” plays of the past. As a result, a lot of people were expecting Simon’s best film since The Goodbye Girl. Well, someone certainly blew it here. The movie’s pleasant but far from great. Some of Simon’s most hilarious lines are lost in the screen translation. Newcomer Jonathan Silverman hardly compares to the wohderful Matthew Broderick, who originated the main role on Broadway. And whoever cast Blythe Danner and Judith Ivey as Jewish mothers should probably seek a new career. A waste of fine material. B.H.

This Month In IV History

WITH DR. OLDIE

ON MAY St, 1981, NBC'S LATENIGHT FRIDA? MUSIC SHOWCASE THE MIDNIGHT SPECIAL DIED AND WENT TO ROCK AND ROLL HEAVEN. ROCK WAS STANDING ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW ERA, BUT AS USUAL,THE OUVS IN CHARGE DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE.

STATIC CLING'S ROAD MANAGER CALLED. THEV CAN'T MAKE THIS WEEK'S TAPING, ANDTHEY WANT