East Village People

I don’t really talk about my stamps much in real life.  People know about the blog (I’ll post a link periodically on Facebook or Twitter), but I don’t converse much about this pastime to friends nor volunteer that I have a blog--let alone what it’s about--in social situations.  The reason of course is that most people’s hobbies are not at all interesting to non-aficianados, and an innocent question in polite society could easily suck the unsuspecting down a vortex of hopeless minutae that one can instantly regret.

The perfect cinematic example of this is in Woody Allen’s very funny Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993), where a couple, Larry & Carol Lipton (Woody and Diane Keaton) slowly get embroiled in the possible murder plot of an unassuming neighbor, a passionate philatelist whose primary character trait is a gregarious eagerness to bore people with his collection, something Larry learns quickly when he and Carol first pay him and his wife a visit.

Paul (Jerry Adler): “Now let me show you a mint 1933 airmail—very rare and very beautiful.  Look at that.  And this plate block is quite unique because it has a flaw in the engraving.  See if you can see it.”

Larry: “It’s hard for me…”

Paul: “Give you a little hint, right down here in the corner.  Interesting.”

Larry: “That little tiny thing there?”

Paul: “That makes it quite valuable, you see.”

Larry: “Ah-ha.”

Paul: “And I just got in a commemorative set of issues that are going to be quite valuable, too.  Look at the color work there. Look at these presidentials.  Look at the color work.  Even the perforations are still intact.”

Of course, his hobby is open season for Woody’s commentary after their visit is over

Larry: “Jesus, couldn’t you keep the conversation going a little longer in there?  I was signaling you frantically.”

Carol: “I was just trying to be neighborly.”

Larry: “Neighborly?  If this guy showed me his stamp collection one more time…My favorite thing in life is to, you know, look at cancelled postage.”

 

Once the wife dies, supposedly of a heart attack, Carol’s suspicions are aroused, which are only fueled by a friend of theirs, Ted (Alan Alda):

Ted: “Maybe this guy killed her, you know?. Like he’s got like a young tootsie stashed someplace.”

Larry: “No, no, not this…you gotta, you gotta see this guy.  This guy gets his jollies from licking the back of postage stamps. He’s a boring, old…”

Ted: “I could see that.  Depending on whose picture is on the stamp.”

I suppose it’s a bizarre backhanded compliment to think that stamp collectors are so boring, we’re incapable of nefarious doings, but it turns out Ted is right, and along with the help of Woody’s client, writer Marcia Fox (Anjelica Huston), the unlikely foursome get to the bottom of some increasingly mysterious clues and developments, but not without some hilarious digressions along the way.

It may seem sacrilegious to say it, but I prefer this Manhattan to Woody’s more heralded Manhattan from 1979.  For me, that film, awash with Gershwin music and Gordon Willis’s B&W photography, has some marvelous elements but is less than the sum of its parts.  The film feels glossy, fabricated, with some good one-liners but dialogue that overall feels like it’s trying to one-up Annie Hall.  Everyone feels rooted in type and it never quite gels for me.  Plus, the most beautiful performance, Mariel Hemingway’s, is in the service of what still feels like a skeevy March-November romance.  It’s his most overrated movie, I think, and one that mostly inspires in me curiosity of what he could've done with Meryl Streep in more than just a bit part.

Mystery has modest intentions, but it actually does deliver on all cylinders.  The mystery is a good one, with the menace comic but also very real.  This is also probably Woody Allen’s least dysfunctional relationship depicted in film, with his reunion with Diane Keaton an effortless one.  Their dynamic of a married couple, still endlessly charmed by each other even though the irritations and restlessness of familiarity abound, is instantly believable.

It’s also a wonderful reassembling of two other major forces in Woody Allen’s best film, Crimes and Misdemeanors from four years earlier.  Here Alda still has that borderline-unctuous personality, but in a very likable way (think early MASH).  And Huston does a 180 from her ill-fated Dolores Paley.  She’s smart, fearless, stylish, and quick-witted.  In her career, she’s often traded on an ominous sensual presence in films like The Grifters or Prizzi’s Honor, but I think this is her sexiest role by far, and she’s fabulous.

It also is very knowing about the crime film, Woody being a voracious cinephile, and it upends the genre’s conventions at every turn.  There are few setpieces funnier in his films than the phone call with their suspect, each amateur sleuth armed with a tape player trying to keep a fabricated conversation on the rails.  And of course, the wry Lady of Shanghai climax is incredibly self-aware and undeniably perfect.  The film is a real gem.

Of course, we don’t actually see much of Paul’s collection, but that rare airmail stamp?  It’s gotta be this Century of Progress issue (Scott #C18).  Today’s mint value would be around $100, not bad but nothing compared to the Graf Zeppelin issues from just a few years earlier.  Then again, he does talk about an error on a plate block, so that would make things more, uh, interesting...

The New York stamp (Scott #3592) is from the Greetings from America issue, while the Cinematography stamp (#3772g) is from the American Filmmaking release.  George Gershwin is #1484, Glenn Miller #3098, and "Radio Entertains America" (#3184i) is from the Celebrate the Century series.  Marge Simpson (#4400) is voiced by Julie Kavner, who's appeared in 7 of Woody's projects, and Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia, #4143f) has appeared in just that one pictured.  As for the Martin Ramirez stamp from earlier this year (#4972)?  I thought it had a nice Art Deco vibe which suits that lovely period film nicely.

My 10 favorite Woody Allen films

1. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)
2. Zelig (1983)
3. Midnight in Paris (2011)
4. Annie Hall (1977)
5. Bananas (1971)
6. The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
7. Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)
8. Another Woman (1988)
9. Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)
10. Sleeper (1973)

Great Scott

It’s hard to believe that Thelma & Louise was released 20 years ago. I was in college at the time and remember all the controversy about feminist outrage and confronting misogyny (both overt and latent). I haven’t seen it again since—it’s not the type of film that gets replayed on TNT the way other “chicks with guns” films like Aliens and Terminator 2 are. But I remember that even back then, the Grand Canyon jump was a cheap and inauthentic end to two beautifully realized characters, with the final freeze frame of the car in the air a royal cop-out to an otherwise engaging movie.

What I liked about the film most, though (besides some terrific performances across the board) was that it was the only film that gave Ridley Scott visual breathing room. From Alien to Blade Runner to Black Rain, his films were suffused with imagery that was wet and dark and claustrophobic. But this film showed that he can handle sunshine and wide open spaces, that he had a directorial gift for American landscape as a complement to his heroines’ road trip. Sadly, even though subsequent efforts like Blackhawk Down and Gladiator take place largely outdoors, the style is still visually cluttered and oppressive. Thelma is a window into a career that might have been—a spare, linear, natural sensibility that allows for the fact that empty space need not be devoid of ideas.

I love to go camping and have been to the Grand Canyon, but never both together (nor have I explored farther than the south rim). Hopefully one day. The Grand Canyon stamp (Scott #4054) from the Wonders of America series gave me an opportunity to pull some older Grand Canyon stamps as well, the oldest of which is from 1934 (Scott #741) as part of a National Parks series. The other two are Scott #2512 & C135 (which designates an Air Mail stamp).

Gotta Dance!

The Frank Sinatra stamps (Scott #4265) I used on these two musicals, On the Town (Donen/Kelly, 1949) and Anchors Aweigh (Sidney, 1945), only serve to remind us that Gene Kelly has yet to receive a stamp from the USPS. The fact that Fred Astaire also hasn’t been recognized made me think...are they preparing a Great Dancers issue? Still, the omission is quite conspicuous, especially since Judy Garland has gotten two already, completing the triumvirate of the most important actors in the history of the American musical.

I’ve always been a much bigger fan of Kelly, not because he was a better singer than Astaire (he wasn’t) or dancer (it’s a tie), but because he always seemed far more accessible. In his films, Astaire usually played a dancer. But Kelly played a soldier, sailor, ball player, actor, artist, ordinary working Joe. He wore khakis, not tuxedos. He was graceful, but also athletic. And while Astaire was usually kept apart from his love interest by circumstance, contrivance, or crossed wires, Kelly’s worst enemy was typically himself. He didn’t mind playing the heel, being unctuous and pushy. And sometimes, that shit-eating grin can annoy as much as charm. An American in Paris (as beautiful as it is overrated) makes him a little too insufferable for my taste, stalking, rather than seducing, poor Leslie Caron.

But more often than not, that smile was a façade to darker recesses, for he was a far better actor than Astaire, tapping into his characters’ emotional depths and neuroses that played out in choreography that often was as tortured as it was jubilant. Astaire had a delightful, feather touch that played counter to what felt natural if forced to portray a bad guy (Exhibit A: Yolanda and the Thief). But Kelly understood that such brazenness was a double-edged sword, that he could steamroll you with his energy, and that self-awareness makes his best performances (The Pirate, Singin’ in the Rain, It’s Always Fair Weather) both charming and provocative.

A great comparison is between Town and Aweigh, for while he’s mostly a goof and a jerk in the latter, he’s wonderful in the former, finding a perfect pairing with Vera-Ellen while still being exceedingly generous with his hugely talented co-stars: Sinatra, Betty Garrett, Ann Miller, and Jules Munshin. Town was the first film he co-directed with Stanley Donen (himself, vastly underappreciated for his contributions to so many 50’s musicals), but except for the ballet sequence, Kelly plays to the strengths of the ensemble instead of hogging the show. Town is also the far better musical, despite abandoning huge chunks of the original stage show, with one boisterous number after number. Aweigh is now mostly remembered for the inventive dance Kelly has with the animated Jerry the Mouse.

I was lucky to find two related stamps that fit perfectly with both the theme and the color scheme of the respective one sheets. The New York Skyline is an Air Mail stamp from 1947 (Scott #C35) and the Navy stamp (Scott #435) is from a year earlier. Note how Jose Iturbi gets prominent billing in the latter, because the one-sheet itself is Spanish.