My Rival Is A Baby Blue Racing Car: Viva Las Vegas (1964)

Showmanship is somewhat of an intangible thing in a contemporary frame of reference as the performer that is all encompassing in skills, that also happens to perform the socially ascribed understanding of masculinity is somewhat rare.  While Justin Timberlake is probably the only current example of this, it was in my mind a space only reserved for the likes of Fred Astaire and a few of the other classic crooners, although there could be a slighted case made for Tom Waits falling into this equation.  Although that would result in its own rambling digression.  I say this because my encounter with Viva Las Vegas led me to an appreciation for Elvis Presley as a showman, sure he is far from the world's best actor, but he delivers his lines with just enough Robert Mitchum inspired swagger to afford himself respect, particularly when placed within the larger scope of singing and dancing.  Elvis could certainly belt out some lyrics and he was assuredly poised in his jive dancing.  Indeed, the title song for Viva Las Vegas is most well known musically, but I am somewhat certain that I will no longer find myself capable of detaching it from swaying and swinging occurring within its reprise in the film.  However, this is only one element of the film as it too proves to be a perfect consideration of how the male gaze works in film, perhaps even sufficing as the pinnacle of such occurrences.  Where Laura Mulvey to have not engaged with a critique of Classic Hollywood through the scope of River of No Return, then this romp through Vegas showgirl bars, paired with a noted fascination on the figure of Ann-Margaret.  This problem acknowledged, much like River of No Return, Viva Las Vegas is an absolute cinematic feast, one whose vibrant variant of Technicolor allows for its showy locations to glimmer and sparkle in all their neon excess, never pulling back the gaudiness during any of its 86 minute run time.  Admittedly the film does meander around a bit, particularly during the closing race scenes, but in early sixties desire for a natural order, the film does return to the highly heteronormative in the most puritanical of senses.  Be warned though, it is damn near impossible to not begin tapping one's foot during this musical.

Viva Las Vegas centers on the exploits and engagements of Lucky Jackson (Elvis Presley) an aspiring sports car racer and full-time mechanic.  With his eye on a particularly high grade engine, Lucky gambles his money at a game of craps with success.  However, even this good fortune does not prove quite enough to attain the engine instantly, particularly since the owner has yet to receive any form of compensation from Lucky.  While in the works to attain his car, Lucky encounters Italian racing phenom Count Elmo Mancini (Cesare Danova) whose own desires to win cause him to actively bribe Lucky into being his car-based bodyguard during the race, agreeing to lose to him in the process.  The wild Jackson refuses flat out, instead suggesting that he can only play to win.  However, understanding the power and skill present within Mancini, he asks to look under his hood to see what he is working with in terms of machinery.  During this engagement a woman named Rusty Martin (Ann-Margaret) comes with the hopes of getting her car fixed, wherein her looks lead to another form of competition between Lucky and Mancini over her attraction and admiration.  While it is rather clear that Rusty takes a liking to Lucky over Mancini, the aristocratic Italian finds ways to uses his economic wealth to his advantage, all the while Lucky is forced to work in service jobs to attain the money necessary to run in the race, a task made all the more difficult when during an encounter with Rusty he is knocked into a pool.  While swimming out of the pool he loses his cash, only to have a precocious child throw it into a water drain.  Understanding that it will take almost guile alone to win Rusty from Mancini, Lucky navigates his way into being their server during a romantic date, at which point Lucky makes Mancini out to be a fool and promotes his status as ideal in the process.  Eventually Lucky does accrue the required money and races against Mancini and others winning the race and subsequently the hand of Rusty in the process, the two, one can assume, will go onto live their youth together as a mechanic and lifeguard respectively.

This movie is about male spaces, more so even than most war films or sports movies.  This, mind you, is coming from a musical.  However, I assure that this observation is well-grounded and extends to almost every portion of the film.  This is primarily evidenced in the cinematic male gaze at play in the film, which is first realized through the legs of Ann-Margaret's Rusty as she ventures into the shop in which both Mancini and Lucky work, here the two men previously fixated on the undercarriage of a car, extend the same curious gaze outward to the physical features of Rusty, playing on the object nature of her body, particularly that thing which facilitates mobility.  However, where the mobility is frozen by the gaze and Rusty cannot move without the help of the two men, both because her car is literally broken, but her legs are figuratively rusted as her name would suggest, until they allow her movement.  This shared desire for driving and objectifying Rusty allows for a certain layer of the homosocial bond to occur, wherein both Lucky and Mancini can also objectify Rusty's otherness, particularly in contrast to their own masculine game playing.  The otherness of Rusty allows the two to fight and claw, whilst ultimately blaming it on Rusty.  Indeed, one of the earliest entries into my blog was regarding the 1926 silent film The Flesh and the Devil wherein I argued that it might be the greatest example of the homosocial bond in cinema, however, Viva Las Vegas does give it quite a run for its money.  If this were not emphasis enough the interactions between Lucky and Rusty all revolve around his still hoping to attain a spot in a race and, subsequently victory, wherein Rusty devotes a musical number to her admitting a need to compete with a car.  If the metaphor of the male space were only a mere passing though, this song and Rusty's internalization of her equating to a vehicle, assure viewers that in the world of Lucky and Mancini both women and cars are things to be driven and used for sport and leisure, indeed, the closing moments of this film revolving around a wedding would be simple and outwardly normative, the addition of the race prior only makes it a thing to be won.  Marriage is a race for Lucky and Mancini with Rusty playing the part of the veritable trophy.

Key Scene:  While it was probably not the best musical number of the entire film, I was particularly keen on The Yellow Rose of Texas as it showed the true breadth of Presley's performing chops.

This film is problematic, but it is equally watchable and worth the time of cinephiles and films theorists alike.  Furthermore, it is quite easy to come by for a cheap price.

I'm Erect. Why Aren't You Erect? Showgirls (1995)

Do you remember that one episode of Saved By The Bell where Jessie begins abusing caffeine pills as a means to both take care of her school work, as well as attend practices so her and the other girls can perform for a talent show, only to eventually have a complete mental breakdown which leaders to her sing-crying the words to "I'm So Excited" in the befuddled arms of Zach?  Well, one could call Showgirls the extension of that moment from the show some seven to ten years later, even using the actress Elizabeth Berkeley in the lead role.  Showgirls is far from one of those films that has received a cult status because it clearly exudes some degree of cinematic ingenuity, or is a terrible production that covers up a sound narrative, in fact, for the most part, Showgirls is a decidedly unwatchable film in the traditional sense, excluding of course any moment involving the infallible Kyle McLachlan.  The film suffers from some chewed up scenery in the acting department, not to mention a misguided plot that is only fleshed out in a literal sense.  Even the glossy realism mixed with dystopian dreariness that signifies some of director Paul Verhoeven's other works, such as Basic Instinct and Robocop falls apart when the gross day world of Las Vegas enters the picture and consumes any sense of harmony or possible beauty.  Showgirls is at once a set of misguided social commentaries ranging from the objectification of women to the exploitative failures of art, as well as a film that clearly cannot take itself any more seriously, despite dealing with a subject so harsh and debated that any degree of trepidation with plot choices, would assure its failure, something clearly problematized within the film.  The fact that Showgirls because a home video success probably speaks volumes to a pre-internet age in which nudity on the scale within this film meant needing to get creative in one's access, but that, of course, says little for a cinematic appreciation, as much as it does for the ingenuity of a sexual oriented mind.  The absurdism of its existence seems to be the sole factor in the cult status of this sex fueled narrative.

Showgirls begins with the introduction of Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkeley) a down and out, attractive young woman who has decided to hitch hike to Las Vegas to take up dancing as a means to escape her troubled life.  It is within being offered a ride to Las Vegas that she first realizes the deception of the city when her belongings are stolen and she is left abandoned in a casino.  Fortunately for Nomi, a aspiring designer named Molly (Gina Ravera) agrees to take her in and help her get on her feet, even landing her a job as an erotic dancer in somewhat sleazy club.  Yet, Nomi realizes she is destined for something much larger than this when she watches a performance of a erotic dance review called Goddess, which is headed by a star performer named Cristal Connors (Gina Gershon).  At this moment, through deception and a considerable degree of hard work, Nomi begins to climb the ladder of  performance artist in the sin-laden city meeting a classically trained dancer turned bouncer named James (Glenn Plummer) as well as Cristal's lover, the lavish playboy Zack Carey (Kyle MacLachlan).  It is through these varied interactions that Nomi is introduced to the backdoor dealings of Las Vegas, particularly as they relate to advancing as a dancer, she even forms an intimate relationship with Zack, one that leads to a night of wild passion and a heavy degree of distrust from Cristal.  However, when this use of sex does not afford Nomi a chance to understudy for Cristal, the enraged dancer takes things into her own hands by pushing Cristal down the stairs causing her to get a fracture and thus become incapable of performing.  Nomi is then thrust into the spotlight, a place that she realizes is far from comforting, both in the realization of her awful actions by friends like Molly, as well as the jealousy that emerges from other dancers, and even Zack who in a fit of rage digs up information on Nomi's past life, revealing a history of drug addiction, prostitution and violence.  Nomi realizes that escape is, again, her only option and she begins hitchhiking out of Las Vegas, meeting the same man who stole her goods in the films opening scene, although this time she is fa more prepared.  Also she kills a man along the way, but that seems, surprisingly, secondary in the larger narrative.

I would be hard pressed to find a film, excluding the infamous Salo: or 120 Days of Sodom that better captures the sense of decadence and its presence within a modern society.  While the previously mentioned film is decidedly fictional, or at least a viewer strongly hopes that is the case, Showgirls despite its stylized sexuality and preponderance of violence, truly reflects a world that could be Las Vegas.  It depicts the city as a fictionalized dreamscape in its nightlife, one where aspirations can occur, only to cast a less than welcoming hue over everything when the morning light comes.  The characters within the film suffer from their own delusions and excesses whether it be James and his desires to be both a critically acclaimed choreographer and a master of erotic dance, or the dancers throughout who expect their children to be well-spoken and mild mannered but see little issue within bringing them into their foul-mouthed and nudity heavy dressing rooms.  It is easy to see how decadence formulates within Cristal and Zack who spend lavishly on libations and sexual gratification, only as a means to counter their clearly problematic relationship, in fact, the scene in which Zack and Nomi hook up at his house is  so decadent that a viewer will find it damn near incomprehensible, not to mention that Kyle MacLachlan relishes in throwing down some excellent over-the-top acting during the scene.  Yet it is Nomi who seems most apt to describe as decadent, because while viewers are led to believe that she is truly trying to escape her past, her actions often reflect and individual who is self-loathing and purely wants things for her possession, even if she intends not to take them seriously, this is certainly the case with her desire to become a Goddess dancer, something she obtains, but then completely overlooks its importance by gorging on junk food and partying her days away.  Nomi is a decadent and self-involved character who the narrative hopes you will find sympathy for, yet it is so clear that she possesses no desire to change, thus making her a decidedly unlikeable and problematic character.  Who knows maybe this is the major flaw of the film.

Key Scene:  Kyle MacLachlan, champagne, sex and swimming pool.  It is really more of the cultural humor within this scene than anything else.

I mean, I would suggest only watching this if you really have a curiosity about its place in cult history.  It is not endearing like other cult classics and does not have any hidden cinematic value.  I would pass on to something else if given an option.

Recorded At A Subsonic Level Is A Mantra, Lose...Lose...Lose: The Cooler (2003)

2003's The Cooler had all the makings to be an incredibly popular film, whether it be the quotable dialogue, the lavish scenery of Las Vegas or the excellent acting of both William H. Macy and Alec Baldwin.  Yet, when it comes down to it the film simply does not deliver what one would expect to be an extraordinary film.  The Cooler is great in its own right, but fore a multitude of reasons everything appears contrived and forced, making its watchability decrease considerably, not to mention the original cut of the film was reedited due to demands by the MPAA, which felt the films depictions of sexuality to be far too graphic.  Ultimately, The Cooler becomes a run of the mill Las Vegas story that the viewer will recognize through the other gambling movies of days gone by and the scenery that is so familiar to filmic and cultural history that even though it is cleverly executed and well spaced still seems like nothing more than b-roll footage from a travel channel expose on casinos.  Perhaps, the best word to describe a film like The Cooler is, despite masking itself in what should be a stellar film, average.

The film centers on Bernie Lootz (William H. Macy) a down-and-out cooler for the Shangri-La casino.  Bernie, who is apparently the unluckiest man alive, serves as their financial control by passing his luck on to players winning big at the casino partially as a means to make money, as well as a way to pay back past debts to the casino's owner Shelly Kaplow (Alec Baldwin) who broke Bernie's knee in a fit of rage only to offer him a job as a means to assure a financial return.  Bernie, finally free of his debts, explains to Shelly that he is leaving the city for something new and no longer desires to work as the casinos cooler.  This news upsets Shelly, as it comes simultaneously, the introduction of a group of men demanding that Shelly change his casino tactics to reflect modern times, as opposed to his mafialike tactics.  As a result, Shelly hires one of the casinos drink girls Natalie (Maria Bello) to feign interest in Bernie in order to give him a reason to stay in the city.  Initially, Bernie is confused by the advances and assumes he is being tricked, however, when Natalie continues to pursue him, he invites her into his world.  Natalie, easily wins Bernie over with her sultry ways and unyielding advances, but much to Natalie's surprise Bernie's good nature and honesty begin to take hold of her.  The two fall madly in love and all appears fine, until it becomes apparent that Bernie's recent luck with Natalie is affecting his job as a cooler.  Enraged, Shelly takes it upon himself to break the couple apart, however, no amount of physical punishment or ill-will can separate the couple and after some confrontation they come close to leaving.  Unfortunately, due to some other bad decisions and an attempt to protect his punk son, Bernie accrues a larger debt making it impossible to leave without Shelly following.  In one last hurrah, Bernie tries his hand at craps, betting eighty thousand dollars on a single game.  His luck having changed allows him to win and he is able to leave the casino debt free and in possession of a substantial amount of cash.  Shelly is left to face his fading empire with rather fatal results.

The Cooler, while not an incredibly meaningful movie, does have one thing going for it.  The film is an excellent example of game theory as it concerns film criticism.  I will attempt to elaborate on game theory here a bit, but Fredrik on Film provided a far more substantial bit a few months back, concerning the theory.  In essence, game theory posits that life as it exists is a series of games in which rational people engage one another in outcomes in which they will either win or lose with an assumption that the net amount will result in equilibrium.   This excludes, however, those who are adapted to play certain "games" better or have disadvantages that will assure their constant loss at a game.  These two sides of the coin are represented in this film through Shelly and Bernie respectively.  Shelly is a hardheaded businessman who has a set of methods that appear to work for him in the long run, whether it be his brutal means of dealing with cheaters or his clinging to archaic means of casino running with the promise that the customers will be loyal.  He knows how to win the games he engages in, yet as the film proves, he is due for a loss and the equillibrium hits Shelly heavily given that the odds had for a considerable time been in his favor.  The same works for Bernie although his case is the opposite, it appears as though nothing that Bernie engages in is fruitful, yet with time and the help of other rational game players, such as Natalie, Bernie is able to accrue a few wins and help out his equilibrium.  One could look at game theory as a rationalized version of karma, except that good or bad deeds have nothing to do with out come, but that a person is destined to an average number of wins and losses over their lifespan, regardless of their ethical engagement in said life.  The Cooler, as well as many film noir masterpieces, provide the most fruitful examples of the game theory as it relates to film.

The Cooler is an enjoyable film, it will not blow you away with excellence, yet it is not a burden to watch.  This is a straight-out rental movie and one of many concerning the brutal, Darwin fueled world of Las Vegas.