Johnny Alarimo was an assistant director on the classic masterpiece, Ben-Hur. The director, William Wyler, wrote him a letter of thanks. Charlton Heston drew his portrait on set and signed it “Chuck H.” But Alarimo received no credit, not for Ben-Hur nor any of the other numerous films he worked on because at the time studios only credited department heads. Johnny and many like him are lost to history.
Johnny was an old man living amongst relics of the so-called Golden Age of Hollywood when his second cousin, documentarian Joe Forte, showed up to make friends. Johnny’s lived a glamourous, star-studded life and had a successful career in film, but all that’s left is the dazzling detritus: a cigarette case engraved by Elizabeth Taylor, a stack of Christmas cards sent by Rock Hudson, a mention in a Gore Vidal book. Sure it’ll bring a bundle at auction, but it doesn’t keep you warm at night.
This film works on two levels: first and obviously, as a piece of film history. Johnny Alarimo saved lots of memorabilia from Ben-Hur and other sets, usually those filmed in Italy, where he provided invaluable translation. But it’s also just the story of two men, vaguely related, trying to forge a friendship. That’s harder than you might think considering one of them is a lonely old man. But it turns out that Hollywood may attract a certain kind of person: the kind of person who makes superficial friendship during the 3 or 4 months of shooting and then moves on. Johnny has never had a lasting relationship, and now, at the age of 89, does he have regrets?
I felt heart-broken for much of this film’s run time. Old people, like film credits before the 1970s, are often forgotten. He was the last surviving American crew member of Ben-Hur, but the L.A. Times refused to run his obituary because they choose not to honour those “behind the scenes.” This documentary very quietly shows you that you can have hundreds of bonafide celebrities on your rolodex but even all together they don’t add up to one real friend.
Film buffs will love this rare glimpse at little-seen memorabilia, but I think this movie speaks to all of us. The Man Who Saved Ben-Hur is available on VOD and with just an hour’s worth of viewing, you can do your bit to remember this man and his passion.
The olde West. There are good guys, and there are bad guys: you can barely tell the difference between them. They all wear black hats.
versed in giving her daddy “rubdowns” as is the frontier way.
They own proton packs. They drive Ecto Ones. They horde merchandise to the extent that it threatens their marriages. Ghostheads is the 2016 documentary that takes a good hard look at these amped-up fans. Ghostheads is the new Trekkies.
Suddenly shy geeks who rarely interact with the human species don these alter-egos and strut around like heroes. In Ghostheads you’ll encounter one painfully shy man who doesn’t hesitate to walk up to total strangers to spout any of dozens of lines of dialogue memorized from his favourite movie. He’s happy to pose for pictures and merrily draws attention by flipping on the siren on his Ghostbusters car (his only car. He drives his daughter to school in it). Fandom has really kicked into high gear these past few years (we discussed FANdementalists on a prior podcast) but I think the Ghostheads embody the very best of it: a sense of community. Just like-minded people sharing something they love, a movie that happens to be about camaraderie and helping others (and mutant marshmallows).
pregnant. “Get an abortion” he says, and she agrees, because who’d want to have a baby with him? But he has a change of heart and she agrees to consider it if only he’ll finally introduce her to his surviving family members – a grandmother and a sister he hasn’t spoken to since his parents’ funeral.
gleefully catching them all on fire. Trash Fire has its roots in horror of course, a fact that constantly slithers up and down your spine, especially when AnnyLynne McCord tiptoes into the bedrooms of the sleeping guests with nothing but a ghostly white nightie and a shotgun.
As you may remember, I had a great time last weekend watching a 
Which is not to say Assassination Classroom: Graduation is a bad movie. I mean, it’s not really a GOOD movie by any measure, but my post-screening research shows that it adheres quite closely to the source material (incidentally, this is a sequel to last year’s Assassination Classroom with each movie covering about half of the original manga’s story) and was a big box office hit in Japan. But this movie had no intention at any time of embracing the complete ridiculousness of its concept or the yellow squidlike teacher. Instead, Assassination Classroom: Graduation plays it almost completely straight, delivering life lesson after life lesson as the middle school class grows up and learns the ways of the assassin from a big yellow squid. How you can play that concept straight at all, I don’t even know.
So back to those green tea Kit Kats. Apparently Kit Kats are a huge deal in Japan because the name sounds like “kitto katsu”, which means “you will surely win”. That nice sentiment has given rise to a whole host of ridiculous Kit Kat varieties being eaten up by the Japanese (and also at least two white Canadians), including Shinshu Apple, Edamame Soybean, Purple Sweet Potato, Hot Japanese Chili, and Wasabi, among others. 
count on one finger the number of Indian films I’ve seen that were about serial killers. Which brings me to the appropriately titled Psycho Raman.
The symbiotic relationship between cop and killer is nothing new and I feel like I’ve seen every version there is of the “You complete me” speech but Kastyap shows us enough memorable images and packs enough suspense into Psycho Raman’s best scenes that his film is well worth watching. Mumbai is a compelling setting for this familiar story and, as the Fantasia Film Festival website notes, shows a side of India that most of us aren’t used to seeing.
important character of Raghavan, the cop with a dark side. The film is divided into ten chapters and way too many of them don’t feature Raghavan at all. Not that I’m complaining. Kaushal doesn’t bring anything new to the drug addict or the angry cop and his scenes are often tedious. Still, the battle over this man’s soul is the whole point and Kastyap needed to put in a little more time developing this character.
We were treated tonight to a marathon of the new trilogy of Star Trek movies, including a screening of Star Trek Beyond. Seeing the first two reminded me how good Star Trek and Star Trek Into Darkness are, and seeing them all in a row made me all the more sure that Star Trek Beyond is my favourite of the three.
Yelchin, having died so tragically after filming was complete, is a key cast member in all three and is excellent in Star Trek Beyond (as always). But it’s bittersweet to watch, as his posthumous presence is harder to take than his absence would have been. Every one of his scenes serves as a reminder that there will be no more Chekov in the instalments to come. He will be sincerely missed but it feels right that his role will not be recast. May he rest in peace.
wonderful job of capturing the sarcastic Bones and the quiet pleasure Spock takes in driving Bones crazy, while letting us see that underneath it all there is nothing but love and respect between them.
After a ten year hiatus, Shainberg is back with Rupture, a film decidedly less kinky but a little more kick in the teeth. You know how when a cartoon character falls in love, his heart visibly pounds out of his chest? I’m pretty sure mine was doing much the same while watching this film, out of discomfort and dread.
exposing them to it – not to scare them to death, but to scare them beyond it.
Canadian cinematographer Karim Hussain creeps around corners to give us a relentless and increasingly cramped view of our heroine and her struggles, soaked and saturated in hues of viscera. He tightens the frame like a vise so her pain is sharply in our focus. Noomi Rapace, no stranger to body horror, is up to the challenge, aided and abetted by Peter Stormare, Lesley Manville and Michael Chiklis, who are surreally spooky. Things are so peculiar that the audience sometimes titters with nervous laughter.
ASSHOLES WATCHING MOVIES 