TYPICALLY BRITISH: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears is one reason (among many) to subscribe to OVID

This utterly charming, entertaining and information-crammed documentary begins with a wonderfully ridiculous quote by the late François Truffaut so redolent of that peculiar French snobbery (coupled to Anglophobia) that you almost can't believe this great filmmaker would have been stupid enough to say it. Well, never say never.

The short documentary's subtitle is apt, as well. "Personal" indeed -- as Stephen Frears (shown above and at right) tells us within the first few minutes how he learned about both punishment and sex from movies and his school's headmaster. Not to worry: There's nothing really actionable here. What there is, however -- as with Bertrand Tavernier's delightful, informative (and a good deal longer and deeper) French counterpart -- is a grand run through several decades of a country's cinema (including some fascinating bits about British television) that, while hardly inclusive (there's a list of movies at

the finale Frears apologizes for leaving out), manages to touch a remarkable amount of films and filmmakers in a brief, intelligent and thoughtful manner.

Co-directed by another filmmaker and documentarian, Michael Dibb (shown at left), TYPICALLY BRITISH: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears will reacquaint you with some of the leading lights of Brit film, as well as with some names you probably have not even heard of but will want to learn more about (and maybe view some of their work).

The film sits Mr. Frears down with two sets of two British film personalities of different generations: the first with writer/director Alexander Mackendrick and screenwriter Gavin Lambert, the second with filmmakers Michael Apted (below, center) and Alan Parker (below, left; that's Frears on the right). Both sessions are wonderfully rich with pertinent, occasionally gossipy movie-insider information.

What helps set the documentary apart is all this very interesting detail about filmmaking via these five men, all of whom have worked in the film industries on both sides of the Atlantic. In addition to history and critical analysis, this adds some genuinely telling information about the filmmaking process, as well as about those working behind (but not so much in front of) the camera.

Fascinating tidbits abound, such as Laurence Olivier's narration for the documentary about the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, an event, we are informed, that sent so many Britishers out to purchase television sets (then relatively new) that this hastened the decline of the British film industry. (Ah, yes: Yet another thing that obnoxious royal family has to answer for.)

Mr. Apted has much to say about how important was the very good British television of his time, while Mr. Parker provides huge enjoyment via his reminiscences and willingness to admit certain things. Regarding the "art" cinema that turns so many heads in the 1960s, "I thought Ingmar Bergman was the one who appeared in Casablanca." And as the men discuss the multi-Oscar-winning movie Darling, "Did you dream about Julie Christie?" (she's shown below) Frears inquires. "I did more than dream about her," Parker shoots back.

From Hitchcock to Powell & Pressburger, Ken Russell, Nicolas Roeg and Ken Loach to producers such as Michael Balcon and David Puttnam, if they are not all here, well, plenty of them certainly turn up. Near complete agreement seems to arrive from our fellows regarding the films of Ken Loach, in particular Kes (below), as one of the "greats" of British film. First to last, this doc is a consistent delight and a necessary reminder of just how much Britain has contributed to cinema down the decades. So: Fuck you, but I still love you, M. Truffaut!

You can watch Typically British: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears (74 minutes long) now via OVID, the subscription streaming service that, as much as does some better-known and much-longer-around streaming services for art films, provides a remarkably rich and varied menu of narrative and documentary film. Click here for more information.

Improvisation upon improvisation, as Thomas White's lost/famous WHO'S CRAZY gets a digital restoration and a theatrical release

I'd never heard of it (prior to the press release from Kino Lorber arriving in my email box), and I suspect you will not have, either. But if senior readers would like a dead-on time trip back to the 1960s and the experimental film scene of that era (or you younger ones who might be curious about the kind of "art" that went on back then), WHO'S CRAZY? is the film to see. Directed by Thomas White (with some help from his then-partner Allan Zion), this was the first and last movie Mr. White ever made. And though the IMDB credits White and Zion with both direction and writing, while the story idea may have been theirs, the dialog would have come via the film's actors -- all members of that famous improvisational theatrical troupe The Living Theatre.

An anarchical theatrical group dedicated to busting loose from the strapped-down mores and attitudes of the 1950s, The Living Theatre's actors happened to be taking a kind of "enforced vacation" in Europe -- their directors/founders were currently in prison in the U.S. for tax problems with the IRS -- when their path crossed with that of Mr. White.

The actors were staying in a farmhouse in Belgium, which soon became the film's setting. The plot, such as it is, involves a bus carrying some inmates from a local insane asylum that breaks down, allowing the inmates to escape and take shelter in the farmhouse, where they cavort and frolic for nearly all of the film's 73 minutes.

The movie's title gives away just about all of the meaning involved, with the question being: Who are the crazies here: those inmates or their guards/authorities called in to round them up? This fits right into the "hippie" philosophy of the day -- to which TrustMovies himself thoroughly subscribed at the time. (The movie was made in 1965 and had its first public screening at the following year's Cannes Film Festival and again in 1967 at a festival in Bordeaux -- after which it promptly disappeared.)

If -- visually and plotwise -- Who's Crazy? proves an amalgam of the "experimental" tics and tropes of the day (which, it must be said, begin to wear thin pretty quickly), there is one singular thing that makes the film important, maybe even great: its also improvised musical score.  This arrived via Ornette Coleman and his musicians David Izenzon and Charles Moffett -- who evidently watched a cut of the film, improvising their score on the spot, adding immensely to both the visual and audial enjoyment of the movie. That score is terrific: jazzy, bouncy, funny, surprising and above all, fluid and utterly free. It's an amazement.

Initially Who's Crazy? has no audible dialog. (This goes on for maybe the first 25 minutes). When words are finally heard (along with French subtitles, as the movie was only screened in France!) these seem as desultorily experimental as all else. The inmates run around a lot, prepare a meal, turn the place into what looks rather like a "beatnik" club of the era past, seem to be forming some kind of "commune" and then engage in a mock trial.

There's a very nice snow scene in the Belgian landscape, and White offers up a few stop-motion visual effects. Then we get romance, complete with hot candle wax, maybe a little Satanism (or is this just bad make-up?), a tad's worth of philosophy (peace and love, doncha know?), and a wedding.

The film makes fun of so many of our cultural mores and standards -- or perhaps is simply intent on getting us to view these in a different light -- and then those nasty nut-house guards return, along with reinforcements, to round up the inmates. At this point that musical score, together with the accompanying visuals, may put you in mind of the Keystone Cops.

As I say, if this is mostly a bizarre time-trip into our "experimental" movie history, it's also one that buffs may not want to miss. And then there's that amazing score. Distributed by Kino Lorber, Who's Crazy? opens at the Film Society of Lincoln Center for a week-long run this Friday, March 10. It opens in Los Angeles for a  two-day, two-performance run at The CineFamily on April 1, and then hits Seattle at the Grand Illusion Cinema for a week on April 21 - 17.  To check for any further playdates, click here and then scroll down.

BY SIDNEY LUMET: Nancy Buirski's first-class doc is yet another fine one about a filmmaker

Joining two other recent and terrific documentaries -- Hitchcock/Truffaut and De Palma -- that both herald and open up the work of great filmmakers, BY SIDNEY LUMET, the new documentary from Nancy Buirski (who also gave us the excellent Afternoon of a Faun and The Loving Story), reminds us of a wonderful filmmaker who died five years back and whom you might not immediately stick on your list of favorite directors. Watching Ms Buirski's incisive new film should place Lumet up there with the best, while giving you all the reasons why.

Buirski (shown at right) accomplishes this in the simplest of ways: She lets Mr. Lumet talk, while intercutting examples of his work, his history, and a bit of the history of the USA along the way. That is all the movie is, and that's all it takes to make it about as perfect -- intelligent, gripping, eye-opening, surprising and entertaining -- as you could want or need.

Aside from Lumet, there are no other talking heads that ramble on about the man and/or his work. Nor does there need to be. Mr. Lumet, it turns out, was extremely cogent and well-spoken. Not humble, neither was he full of himself. He had, it would seem, an excellent understanding of his abilities, as well as of some of the things that he lacked.

Ms Buirski begins her documentary with Lumet telling a tale of his time in WWII, in Calcutta, on a train, when a group of soldiers swept up a young Indian girl from the station platform, and then passed her around among them to be raped. Lumet is dumbstruck and wonders what he should do. We leave this tale in mid-stream and return to it only at film's end.

In between, Lumet talks of his family life, his time as a child actor (at left), his difficult father, and a contract with (I believe) MGM that somehow hinged on another young actor, Freddie Bartholomew. We learn a lot about his early years as a television director -- and in passing also learn that Yul Brynner, too, in his early years, was a very fine director! It will not surprise movie fans to learn that justice and the search for same is a hallmark, probably the main theme, of Lumet's work. (That's Sean Connery, below, in one of Lumet's least-seen and -appreciated movies, The Hill.)

And yet, what a versatile director he was in terms of projects (some of which he chose, others that were chosen for him). As we view scene after scene, from one film after another, I suspect that you, as I did I, will exclaim under your breath: "Oh, my god: He made that movie, too?" (During the final credit sequence, we get a list of all of the films directed by Lumet, and it's a humdinger: long and mostly good, even if it leaves out the excellent work he did for television.)

From 12 Angry Men (his first film, above) through The Verdict to his penultimate movie Find Me Guilty, Lumet was often in the courtroom, though just as often perhaps in the police station (Serpico, Prince of the City, and Q&A) and most definitely on the street a lot -- as in what many consider his best movie, Dog Day Afternoon. (How amazingly current this one seems, as much now and when it was made. That's Sidney, below, with his star Al Pacino.)  What Lumet says about New York City, its streets and its ravishing winter light, is -- as so much else he tells us -- pointed, well-said, and true.

It's seems a rather stunning discovering that just a man speaking, together with some of his visual history and a lot of his films (the clips from which are very well chosen and wonderfully edited into the documentary) could be this thoughtful and riveting. Well, of course: It all depends on the man and the movies. And, in this case, the documentary filmmaker: Thank you, Ms Buirski! You have sent us back to Lumet with newly opened eyes -- and a huge desire to see many of his movies again: some of his early work that features icons like Marlon Brando (below in The Fugitive Kind) and Sophia Loren (That Kind of Woman),  and especially, Daniel, his adaptation of the E.L. Doctorow book.

By the time this amazing and wonderful doc comes to a close, you will understand much more fully, thanks especially to that World War II/Calcutta reminiscence, why Mr. Lumet proved so interested in justice and the search for it against so many odds. (Yes, that's Peter Finch, in another of Lumet's memorable movies, Network, below)

By Sidney Lumet, running 103 minutes, opens tomorrow, Friday, October 28, in New York City (where else, so far as Sidney was concerned?) at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, and the following Friday, November 4, in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal. Elsewhere? Hope so, but I don't know. Seeing as the movie is part of the American Masters series, you'll certainly be able to view it eventually via Public Television.

Wes Wheadon's WHEN BETTE MET MAE proves an original, exemplary hybrid documentary

Did you know that Bette Davis actually did meet Mae West -- and toward  the close of each of their legendary careers. TrustMovies didn't realize this, yet on the face of things, why wouldn't they have met -- and long before the evening that they finally did? Turns out they were fans of each other's work but chance and circumstance had decreed that they be kept apart until one autumn night in 1973 when... it happened. The film's director, Wes Wheadon, was present as this "creation" because he was a friend of both the cocktail party's host, Charles Pollack, a West Hollywood designer, Pollack's house guest, Ms Davis, and their guest, Ms West. And what a night it was -- even if, as it turns out, the (I am guessing) surreptitious tape recording Wheadon made ran out long before the evening did.

Mr. Wheadon, shown at right in present day (and  further below at the time of the event), has had the delightful and enterprising idea to hand us a very unusual combination of memorabilia and documentary using the actual tape for the audio along with acted/lip-synced visuals handled by a smart and well-cast group of actors portraying the folk who were present on this surprising, entertaining evening. His movie, WHEN BETTE MET MAE, runs only a little longer than that tape -- 63 minutes -- but for fans of both or either of these extraordinary leading ladies, the documentary will prove catnip indeed.

Shown above are, left to right the real  Davis, Wheadon and West, while below is the acting ensemble made up of Karen Teliha, Brandon Larcom and Victoria Mills, each of whom does a splendid job of  both impersonation and lip-syncing, while bringing to life these characters.

If the tape sounds a little grainy and heavy with background noise, so be it. The characters and the actors playing them soon win out over any audio defects present. And the conversation, though a little heavy on the oh-I-think-you're-so-wonderful stuff (I'm sure they did, but enough already!) eventually moves on to other more interesting subjects like work, career, men, children, acting and -- best of all -- being so popular that one is constantly impersonated..

The things we hear and learn about that latter subject are eye-opening (why West preferred  the work of Charles Pierce over that of Craig Russell, for instance), and why Davis had to put career ahead of husbands and children is another most interesting topic.

The evening -- and the movie -- is full of history and famous names, as well, so viewers may indeed learn something along with the fun of watching these two women go to town on their respective characters. Both Teliha (above) and Mills (below) have done impersonations of the respective actresses and are clearly quite gifted at it.

Narrated by whiskey-voiced Sally Kellerman, the film, as was the evening itself, is pretty much sui generis. I'm imagining that Wheadon had to wait until such time that no one else was still alive who could object and perhaps skewer the deal. But here it is at last: a meeting of minds and characters so redolent of Hollywood's heyday that I can't imagine there is not a very large audiences out there (in addition to the huge following of gay men to whom these icons mean so much) just ready to pounce on this piece of recreated, magic memorabilia.

When Bette Met Mae, is now available via Google Play -- to rent or to own. It is also expected to become available via iTunes this coming Tuesday, October 27.

John Mulholland's COOPER & HEMINGWAY: THE TRUE GEN is a first-class, dual celebrity bio-doc

A DVD of the below film, which TrustMovies 

covered at the time of its theatrical release,

is now available -- with a Blu-ray in the offing soon.

So if you did not catch this one theatrically, take note!

Gary Cooper and Ernest Hemingway were best of friends? Who knew? I sure didn't. And prior to viewing this remarkably rich, detailed and moving documentary, I might have also added, Who cares? Not any more. Even if you were not the greatest fan of "Coop," one of, if not the most popular male American actors from the 1930s through the dawn of the 1960s, nor one of those who bow down to Hemingway as the be-all-and-end-all of American fiction, this movie will surprise you, and, I suspect, quickly win you over. If you are already big fans of these men, get ready for some prime catnip.

COOPER & HEMINGWAY: THE TRUE GEN begins like one of those old westerns many of us loved -- with the camera gliding gracefully over hills and canyons, and the opening credits rolling by in a lovely, old-time typeface. "The true gen," by the way refers to a phrase Hemingway coined to explain that something was real, as opposed to a phony. He undoubtedly used it about his friend Cooper, and I think you'll use it about this movie, too -- written and directed by John Mulholland. So full is the film of interesting anecdotes about the two men, along with interviews with friends, family, movie people, popular authors influenced by Hemingway and academics who appear to have spent their lives studying him -- all this accompanied by a treasure trove of visual material that works near-perfectly with the film's narration (well spoken in his reedy tenor voice by Sam Waterston) -- that the movie comes remarkably close to a "you-were-there" experience.

What Cooper & Hemingway does especially well is give us what seems like the "whole" of these men. While the film exhibits great appreciation and love for them and their work, it is not afraid to go into the darker areas. Mr. Mulholland has chosen his anecdotes supremely well to give us a growing sense of who these men were, together with some of the forces that made them this way. We learn a lot of about their marriages: several for Hemingway, only one for Cooper (although it seems he rarely met a leading lady he didn't fuck, but in the most gentlemanly fashion. Everyone evidently fell in love with this guy).

For all this, the movie never seems salacious. Theme-wise, it concentrates most on the idea of American manliness -- which both these icons would seem to represent. In the early 20th Century, along with the coming of industrialization and office work also appeared to arrive a more feminized male. Coop and Hem, in their images at least, kept this at bay, though it became clear that Hemingway's was more of a "front" than that of Cooper's, with his grew-up-on-a-ranch background. Still, the movie insists, both men's public image was a kind of shell game.

We learn something of their politics -- Coop was conservative, Hem more liberal -- and their women, too, especially Mary, Hemingway's last wife, and Cooper's "Rocky," who proved strong enough to withstand his assignations -- though his approaching-a-permanent one with Patricia Neal almost undid their marriage. We hear from some of the children, as well, several of whom have piquant tales to tell -- especially Cooper's daughter Maria and Hemingway's son Patrick.

Hemingway as a prevaricator is given full swing, too, though I wish the filmmaker had spent a little more time on just why, as he tells us, the writer came back from World War II so sick and unhealthy. Hemingway did not really see any action (he was considered by our government too valuable to waste in combat), though he is said to have invented certain of his WWII tales. Throughout, the writer comes off as supremely talented and pretty much an asshole as a person (the anecdote about how Cooper gets his friend to give a very necessary apology is succulent indeed).

We see how the wave of success crests and falls for both men, and how their comebacks -- The Old Man and the Sea, High Noon -- were almost simultaneous. As were their deaths: Hemingway's suicide followed Cooper's death from spreading prostate cancer by only weeks. Mr. Mulholland does not make this claim, but the viewer cannot help but wonder how much the loss of his best friend added to Hemingway's terrible depression.

The filmmaker must have worked on this project for quite a few years, as many of the people he interviewed are now dead -- from Ms Neal, Charlton Heston and Jack Hemingway, all long gone, to Elmore Leonard and Paramount's A.C Lyles, both recently departed. Overall, this movie made me even fonder of the work of Cooper (I'll want to see some of his movies again soon), while finally beginning to understand and better appreciate Hemingway, at least as a complicated personality.

Cooper & Hemingway: The True Gen -- from Transmultimedia Entertainment and running 143 minutes, not one of which I would have wanted to miss -- opened in October, 2013, in NewYork City, and then in Los Angeles that December.