Vincente Minnelli Tagged Articles at Cinematical
12 Days of Cinematicalmas: Movies to Wrap Presents By
Filed under: Classics », Music & Musicals », Home Entertainment », 12 Days of Cinematicalmas »

I am one of the world's worst gift wrappers. People look at the presents I give them, and ask if I let my niece or nephew wrap the gift for me. I admit I can't be bothered to spend a lot of time getting the ribbons to curl just so, and to make sure that the wrapping paper fits the present size before I start cutting it out. Over the years, I've learned to rely a lot on gift bags, which are reusable (good for the environment) and look very smart with some tissue paper and perhaps a little raffia used to attach the gift tag. The gift bags were also good for quick last-minute wrapping during the years when I used to take the plane to my parents' house for the holidays, because wrapped gifts aren't allowed on flights.
A big reason why my gift wrapping isn't fabulous, however, is that I don't pay much attention. I'm very fond of putting on a movie in the background while I'm wrapping presents. The idea is that the movie should be something I've seen before, so I am not tempted to put down the scissors and ribbons and watch closely. It's also nice to watch a movie with a holiday theme, to get me in the right spirit for all that gift wrapping.
Therefore, I've put together a list of seven movies that are my favorites for background watching while wrapping presents during the holiday season. Many of them are on TV during the holiday season, so if you're stuck in the back bedroom of someone else's house on Christmas Eve, frantically wrapping before anyone comes in to see what you're giving them, you might be able to find one of these movies on cable (Turner Classic Movies especially).
DVD Review: Lust for Life
Filed under: Classics », DVD Reviews »

The search for meaning is not a search for truth. I've come to this conclusion (which now seems so obvious)
while doing research on Vincente Minnelli's 1956 film, Lust for Life, which
purports to chronicle the life of Vincent Van Gogh. Of course, we're now old hats at knowing bio-pics very rarely stick
to the unadulterated truth. But in 1956? I can't say what audiences thought then. Lust
for Life the film was based on Lust for Life the book, by Irving Stone,
which became a bestseller in its second edition. I haven't read the book, but my guess is this is an example of small
stones casting wide ripples--the compass is off by one degree, but travel eight thousand miles by that compass and you
might find yourself living among "indians," not Indians. See how that
works?
Fictionalize the life of one great man and set the entire genre of film biography going in the wrong direction.
Fans approach these films like they would an ancient, unearthed diary. Vincent Van Gogh in SpectraColor! His secrets
revealed! It's just too tempting a scenario for sentimentalists like myself. Admirers and scholars spend years riddling
out the hidden meaning behind paint strokes; they flap their hands and push their glasses up their collective noses and
say "Ah, yes! The dark colors here, in the background--they symbolize his pain, his heartache!" Because art
means so much more when there's an actual living, breathing, tortured soul behind it. And who's more tortured than Van
Gogh?
So, why make a film about a real-life tortured soul, only cut out all the really tortured parts? Why
gloss over the whores, the absinthe addiction, the permanent midnight? Van Gogh's mania and suicidal tendencies are
well known; his agonies are legendary. The fact is, peering into a fictional man's soul is far less fascinating than
fictionalizing a real man's soul. As film historian Dr. Drew Casper explains in the DVD commentary track, Lust for Life was made in a time when "consensus and conformity were
valued," yet the American male, returning home from war, was "unsure." Casper wagers that much of the
success of the film can be attributed to its making this "dialectic [...] its heartbeat." America needed a
portrait of its agony, and Hollywood served up an amputated Starry, Starry Night. The details might be off, but
emotionally, it was a perfect fit.









