Paranoia in ‘The Basement’

The American Cinematheque’s Alternative Screen showcase presents tonight at 7:30 at the Lloyd E. Rigler Theater at the Egyptian (6712 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood) David Fickas’ “The Basement and the Kitchen,” which had its premiere at the recent Seattle International Film Festival. It is a dazzling and harrowing film, and not the kind of picture many people would want to submit to more than once. In any event, it is a breathtakingly assured first feature from Fickas, a USC alumnus in theater, film and TV. A 20-year-old man, Lloyd (Fickas), as brilliant as he is paranoid, has holed himself up in the basement of a typical suburban middle-class home for half his lifetime. But now his birthday has arrived, and his only friend, Traci (Pam Cook), who has to climb through a small window to visit him, declares that it’s time to come outside to celebrate. Not surprisingly, Lloyd resists, and as the film unfolds, we start wondering whether Lloyd’s fears have a basis in reality. Tension escalates, things start happening--never mind what’s going on in the kitchen upstairs--and we’re left to ponder yet again how difficult it can be to distinguish between paranoia and reality. Mercifully, the film is shored through with dark humor, but it is nevertheless grueling and perhaps not quite original enough to sustain such an ordeal. Still, Fickas, on both sides of the camera, is so clearly talented, it’s worth deciding this for yourself.

Also screening is Mitch Butler’s animated short, the jaunty and wistful “The Smell of Horror,” in which a strange young man living in a “Psycho”-like old house summons a workman to check out some toxic fumes. . . . (323) 466-FILM.

*

The Laemmle Theaters’ “Summer Series” has its strongest offering to date in Amie Williams’ captivating and consciousness-raising documentary “Stripped and Teased: Tales From Las Vegas Women,” which screens Saturday and Sunday at 10 a.m. at the Sunset 5 (8000 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood) and Sept. 4-6 at 11 a.m at the Monica 4-Plex (1332 2nd St., Santa Monica). Taking as her point of departure a remark made by a former Nevada governor that “Vegas women are either strippers or hookers,” Williams introduces us to 10 women who smash the enduring female stereotype of sex and glamour that has been luring visitors to Las Vegas for half a century. Even Williams’ representative showgirl, Susan, proves to be a serious dancer competing for a place in a major ballet company. Williams’ women could not be more varied, but what they have in common is their ability to build lives for themselves and, in many instances, to combine work with other rewarding pursuits. Even the most vulnerable, a beautiful young go-go dancer, used part of her earnings to buy a horse for a riding competition, while Carole pursues two professions: therapist and poker player. Clearly Las Vegas remains a land of opportunity for the hard-working and imaginative.

Two of the most impressive women are Ana Garcia, a retired maid (and great-grandmother) who runs an emergency food bank, and Hattie Canty, a widow who raised 10 children on her own and, as president of the culinary workers’ local, led a six-year, two-month strike against a major Strip resort. Then there’s hearty cab driver Janna McCoy, who after 18 years has driven a cab longer than any other Vegas woman, and Tina Lokosis, an attractive construction worker who can say with pride that she has helped virtually all the major new Strip landmarks of the past decade. In several instances, once Williams has acquainted us with these women and their impressive achievements, she then reveals the extra burdens they carry uncomplainingly, like women everywhere: Janna’s feisty mother has terminal cancer; Ana’s son is in prison on a drug-related conviction; and Shirley, a pretty blond housekeeper in the Mirage’s high-roller suites, in addition to raising two small children on her own, is supportive of her drug-addicted, AIDS-infected, homeless brother. “Women’s work built Las Vegas,” declares Hattie Canty. “There’s more to Las Vegas than naked women.” Sunset 5: (323) 848-3500; Monica 4-Plex: (310) 394-9741.

*

Amid the major films screening in the American Cinematheque’s series “Fantastic Voyage: A Tribute to Richard Fleischer” as it enters its final weekend are a number of the versatile director’s notable smaller-scale films. There’s “Compulsion” (1959), inspired by the Leopold-Loeb murder case, with Orson Welles playing a famous lawyer based on Clarence Darrow, which screens at the Egyptian tonight at 7; the 1967 musical fantasy “Doctor Dolittle” (Saturday at 3 p.m.); the classic 1954 “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” (Saturday at 6 p.m.); and the World War II epic “Tora! Tora! Tora!” (Sunday at 6:30 p.m.). The Cinematheque is also screening a nifty 7:30 p.m. Friday double feature--”See No Evil” (1971) and “Mr. Majestyk” (1974)--and the notorious “Mandingo” (1975).

“See No Evil,” a richly characterized suspense thriller, stars Mia Farrow as a blind woman in distress. It takes place in some lush English countryside, and the principal setting is a handsome, sun-filled old manor house.

This Columbia release offers Farrow, who is virtually the whole picture, a tour de force role ideally suited for her particular gifts in expressing much vulnerability matched by fierce spirit. She finds herself in a spot every bit as tight as the one that engulfed her in “Rosemary’s Baby.” Fleischer’s essential task here was to make a fairly incredible story (well-written by Brian Clemens) credible. He pulls it off by maintaining from start to finish a pace so breakneck that there’s simply no time to think about whether something is believable or not. Beyond this, he succeeds admirably in catching us up in the cleverly contrived action and in making us care about Farrow. Without a single word of preaching, he also makes an implicit comment on the sometimes dangerous chasms between rich and poor.

(There is a moment when one wishes Fleischer had taken a pause to let us grasp fully the slight but crucial difference in the names on two identification bracelets. Be sure to pay close attention.)

“Mr Majestyk” is a lightning-paced thriller with a serious subtext. On the one hand there’s a tough, fair-minded, ex-con melon grower (Charles Bronson), and on the other, an outraged Mafia hit man (Al Lettieri). Caught in the middle, their very lives as well as their livelihood threatened, are Bronson’s migrant Chicano pickers led by loyal and courageous Linda Cristal and Alejandro Rey. Rejecting ambitious labor racketeer Paul Koslo’s demand to replace the Chicanos with a bunch of winos, Majestyk--that’s Bronson, of course--soon winds up in the pokey. The next thing we know he’s trying to hold Lettieri hostage as leverage to get those melons harvested. When this maneuver subsequently backfires, Lettieri becomes a man on the run--and with a score to settle with Bronson.

Writer Elmore Leonard keeps piling on the developments while Fleischer keeps things moving so fast there’s neither time nor inclination to question their credibility. With a real issue, the powerlessness and exploitation of the Chicanos, and authentic Colorado locales providing the background, “Mr. Majestyk” becomes one of those movies in which the events depicted seemingly could happen in real life, and it all happens so entertainingly we’re able to go along with it. Brown and Lettieri (whose series of increasingly absurd predicaments are the source of much broad humor) are well-matched in forcefulness.

Based on the hugely popular bestseller, “Mandingo” (Saturday at 9 p.m.) turned out to be a trash masterpiece. Its fierce condemnation of slavery and its unsparing depiction of the degradation it might inflict upon master as well as slave is but an excuse to project the most salacious miscegenation-inspired sex fantasies ever seen this side of an X rating. It is also, mercifully, hilarious in its sheer excessiveness.

James Mason, the crude, swaggering master of the slave-breeding plantation Falconhurst, decides it is time for his handsome but lame son Perry King to marry and provide an heir to carry on the profitable family business. Shy about his bad leg, crippled in a childhood riding accident, King nevertheless enjoys his droit de seigneur with the young black girls at hand, especially pretty Brenda Sykes, with whom he finds himself falling in love.

Inhibited by the prospect of making love to a white woman--and further shackled by prudish Victorian mores--King nevertheless obediently agrees to marry his cousin, Susan George. Alas, King decides George enjoys herself too much on her wedding night to be a virgin. His suspicions are correct, for she has been deflowered by her sadist brother (Ben Masters). Immediately upon arriving at Falconhurst, George hits the bottle (and then Sykes, who is pregnant by King). When King purchases a genuine Mandingo, or descendant of the Sudanese (Ken Norton), a champion fighter, George, consumed with lust and jealous rage, orders him to her bed.

Alternately titillating and inflammatory (to say the least), “Mandingo” is all the more explosive for having been made so well. Fleischer has unflinchingly faced down each and every progressively sensational and prurient turn. To describe Mason, King and especially George as melodramatic is to indulge in severest understatement. Champion fighter Norton, in his screen debut, and Sykes, a fine actress, hold on to their dignity. (323) 466-FILM.