Désirée (1954, Henry Koster)

With some notable omissions (paramours, they’re French, after all), Désirée is shockingly historically accurate. Napoleon really did have an ex-girlfriend named Désirée, who ended up the queen of Sweden, her husband his former general and then adversary. The film gets big and little details right. On its face, Désirée is just a resplendent CinemaScope melodrama. The costumes are gorgeous, the sets are grandiose, the performances are… well, more on the performances in a bit.

Jean Simmons plays Désirée. She does well aging up over the years, though the film’s makeup and hair designers roll back some of the aging in the third act. Not just for Simmons but everyone (except Marlon Brando). Simmons starts the film as a young woman—no longer a child or something to that effect—who happens to meet a man and invite him over to meet her sister, played by Elizabeth Sellers. The man is Joseph Bonaparte (played by Cameron Mitchell, who works his ass off in the background part). He brings along his brother, Napoleon (Brando). The brothers pair off with the sisters, Mitchell and Sellers, Brando and Simmons.

At this point, Napoleon’s a success, but not enough of one anyone’s listening to his ideas. The film tracks Napoleon’s story through Simmons’s informed, nearby perspective, which seems like a narrative device but, again, is actual history. Obviously, the better story is more focused on Simmons and Désirée, but it’s a CinemaScope melodrama. Brando eventually throws Simmons over for Josephine (Merle Oberon, who’s great in a glorified cameo), and Simmons ends up with general Michael Rennie. Rennie’s pretty sure Simmons spends her life in love with Brando, which provides a real subtext to their relationship as things get complicated first by Brando’s rise to power, then Rennie’s move to Sweden in opposition to him.

Most of the history comes through in Simmons’s diary entries (the film’s based on Annemarie Selinko’s historical fiction novel done as the real Désirée diary), and the second half of the film is just a series of quick, sometimes fun, sometimes not scenes. Simmons and Rennie have chemistry, Oberon and Simmons have chemistry (Simmons can have kids with her French general, Oberon can’t with hers), and then Sellers and Mitchell, every once in a while, show up and provide all this character. There’s also a whole movie in Simmons and Seller’s older brother and guardian (an uncredited Richard Deacon) bickering with the Bonaparte sisters; not sure of the historical accuracy of that bit.

While Brando and Simmons get the top billing, followed by Oberon and Rennie, it’s really Simmons’s picture. Brando should get an above-the-title “and” credit after Rennie. Every time Brando shows up in his fake nose and pound of make-up, he’s done like one portrait of the actual Napoleon or another. Director Koster shoots him in medium and long shots, sometimes to show off the sets, which is both good and bad. The bad is when they’re the wanting exterior sets, and the shots are framed to fit the set decoration exactly. Again, CinemaScope melodrama.

In his first scene with Simmons, Brando brings some intensity. It’s also the only scene where he’s shot in anything near close-up. The only other intensity he’ll bring later is rapey; he’s always trying to get Simmons alone, regardless of their spouses. It’s not a good performance from Brando. He’s got no insight into the character, either as written (Daniel Taradash’s script does give him some material, too, Brando just ignores it) or historically. Instead, Brando lets the make-up do the acting. And whatever Koster and cinematographer Milton R. Krasner do to make Brando seem shorter. Is it forced perspective, is it heels, or did they hire lots of taller people? Rennie was 6’4”, Brando was 5’9”, Simmons was 5’6”.

Anyway.

Simmons is solid in the lead. However, she doesn’t really get a character arc because her destiny (get it) is tied to Brando. Rennie’s okay too. Brando’s not incompetent, just not good or interesting. He’s got nothing to say with the performance.

The production’s decent, though Alex North’s music is a little flat. Koster’s a bland visual director, but he’s got his moments with the actors and some of the staging.

Besides wasting Brando as Napoleon, Désirée is a perfectly reasonable and surprisingly historical CinemaScope melodrama.

No Highway in the Sky (1951, Henry Koster)

No Highway in the Sky has a peculiar structure. It starts with Jack Hawkins; he’s just starting at a British aircraft manufacturer and, during his tour, meets scientist James Stewart, who’s hypothesized a catastrophic, inevitable failure for the latest, greatest plane. Stewart’s convinced the tails will rattle off the planes, which are made with a new kind of metal composite.

No one has paid any attention to Stewart until this point because he’s absent-minded, but Hawkins is curious, so he gives Stewart a ride home and has a drink. Hawkins remains unconvinced of Stewart’s theory and now more suspicious he’s wrong because it turns out Stewart’s an egg-head who does science at home too. Plus, Hawkins doesn’t think Stewart’s raising daughter Janette Scott right. Hawkins doesn’t have any kids of his own, but he’s not an egg-head, so he knows better.

It’s a very awkward, vaguely ableist scene, making fun of Stewart with Hawkins having no cachet except… not being really smart.

Then Hawkins runs into an old war buddy, an uncredited David Hutcheson, who has his own suspicions about the plane, and then Hawkins immediately believes Stewart. At numerous times throughout the film, people will be against Stewart, then change their minds by the next scene. R.C. Sherriff, Oscar Millard, and Alec Coppel’s script is meticulous in contiguous scenes, but then transitions are almost non-existent. Or, presumably, cut for time.

Anyway.

With Hawkins convinced, he and big boss Ronald Squire decide they will send Stewart to Canada to investigate a crash. Because Squire hasn’t had his reversal yet, he’s thrilled to be sending Stewart as punishment for complaining. There’s also this strange—possibly unintentional—subtext with Hawkins and his wife (Elizabeth Allan, credited but not really in the movie) watching Scott while Stewart’s away. It seems intrusive, probably because Stewart and Scott only really have that first scene together to develop their character relationship. Everything else is for the plot.

The plane trip to Canada is where No Highway gets going because it turns out Stewart’s in one of the planes he predicts will fail. So even though he’s previously been entirely indifferent to potential deaths, they’re suddenly on his mind. Specifically, movie star Marlene Dietrich, who’s on the plane with him; Stewart’s wife liked Dietrich’s films, so he tells her how to, maybe, survive a crash into the Atlantic.

Stewart tries telling the pilot (an uncredited and very good Niall MacGinnis) and telling the friendly stewardess, Glynis Johns, but no one believes him enough to turn the plane around. Instead, they believe him enough to consider the possibility, which leads everyone to resent Stewart as the plane becomes Charon’s ferry. Maybe.

Lots of good acting on the plane ride, along with some unfortunate composite shots. No Highway’s a tad overconfident in its special effects, with director Koster giving his actors way too much to do in front of lousy projection shots. The instincts are good, but the execution’s disappointing.

After the flight, everyone is again forced to reexamine their relationship with and opinion of Stewart. Not just the people on the plane but also Hawkins, Squire, and—eventually—Scott. The third act turns Stewart back into the subject after begrudgingly making him the protagonist for the second. The film would rather stick to Johns or Dietrich and their experiences with Stewart, but since he’s the only active player, he’s got to play protagonist.

The third act is split between Hawkins (handling the professional repercussions) and Johns (taking the home life ones). Johns and Dietrich end up with one really good scene together—along with Scott for a bit—where they talk about who wants to fail Bechdel more. There’s an excellent subtext to the scene, though, with some really incisive moments from Dietrich. In the third act, Johns sort of runs out of character; she’s just a good British homemaker, even if she’s not currently married. There’s only so far she can go.

Most of the film’s problems resolve after that rocky first act. After a certain point, all of Stewart’s associates just talk really nice about him, which the film says makes up for them talking shit earlier. Not playing ableist assholes, Hawkins and Squire do much better (though basically just doing a quality assurance procedural). Johns suffers because her role goes nowhere, but she’s good. Dietrich’s got some good stuff. Stewart has a handful of good and great scenes, but for the most part, he’s just okay. The film doesn’t allow him an internal arc, instead making him project it; sure, acting out provides dramatic fodder, but limitedly.

Koster’s direction is occasionally peculiar, and he and cinematographer Georges Périnal don’t know how to shoot inside the airplane, but it’s all right. Koster’s good with the actors, and he keeps the pace up. The other technicals—besides the composite shots—are solid.

It takes a while for the film to get going, but once it does, whenever No Highway gets good (and it frequently does so), it gets very good.

This post is part of the Aviation in Film Blogathon hosted by Rebecca of Taking Up Room.

Resident Alien (2021) s02e04 – Radio Harry

This episode has six plotlines going. Or maybe five and a half, since kids Gracelyn Awad Rinke and Judah Prehn kick off the A-plot, which has Sara Tomko suspicious Alan Tudyk’s alien radio is actually a bomb. The first scene has Tudyk trying to bully the kids into returning his silver alien ball—he’s only got the one left—and Rinke is suddenly convinced he’s got ill-intent with his new device.

So the kids warn Tomko, who decides she and dad Gary Farmer will accompany Tudyk to the transmission site to make sure he’s not going to nuke the planet. The site is on the reservation, so they all visit Tomko and Farmer’s family first; they’re celebrating the return of relation Tommy Puco. It’s never clear how he’s related.

Puco’s hilarious. Since the episode’s got so much going on, he’s only got a couple big scenes. His first one is opposite Tudyk and having an inevitably awkward conversation about belonging. Tudyk prefers spending time among the Native family on the reservation, finding them less obnoxious (and callously destructive) than the white people in town. It softens his resolve to save the humans and has him considering maybe he does need to destroy all human life to save the planet, after all.

Farmer’s got some magnificent scenes on during the reservation visit too. Because it’s Farmer, give him a scene, and he’ll nail it.

Then there are a series of sometimes interconnected subplots, starting with deputy Elizabeth Bowen getting interested in sheriff Corey Reynolds’s love life. Bowen will be in Reynolds’s subplot, Alice Wetterlund’s family subplot, and have one of her own running throughout–a dress she thought she’d lost turned up at the dry cleaners, and she doesn’t remember bringing it in.

Wetterlund’s got a flirtation subplot with charming baseball opponent Justin Rain, but we also get to meet her parents—Barclay Hope and Lini Evans—when she goes to Hope’s birthday dinner. She brings Bowen along because Hope and Evans are so awful to Wetterlund. It’s a quick scene in a quick subplot, but it turns out to be the episode’s best scene; lots of good work from Wetterlund, though it resolves real quick since it’s not one of the main plot lines.

The most significant subplot is Linda Hamilton’s return and the revelation new town doctor Michael Cassidy is still alive. Hamilton’s holding him captive as an alien in her alien jail. Mandell Maughan’s back as her faithful subordinate. While it’s a developing C-plot in the episode, it feels like a bigger plot since it’s returning special guest star Hamilton (and Maughan’s first time back this season).

Similarly, Meredith Garretson and Levi Fiehler have a purely comedic subplot about Fiehler’s rivalry with the nearby town. Sturdy comic acting from Fiehler, and then Garretson gets to do all the big work when the time comes. It’s real funny.

And I just realized there’s a whole sixth plot, not a half one, because the “kids” plotline isn’t just Tudyk versus Rinke and Prehn; it’s also got to do with Tomko’s relationship (or lack thereof) with daughter Kaylayla Raine.

The episode ends with a cliffhanger out of the comic series, which is a big surprise since the show has only used a handful of plot points from the source material.

There’s some terrific acting from Tudyk and Tomko, who gets some great scenes together—including one where Tomko’s got to maintain against an increasingly absurd, but also serious, Tudyk.

Good, packed but never too full script, credited to first-timer Timmy Pico (who’s had story editor credit before), and direction from Shannon Kohli. Kohli’s one of “Alien”’s most reliably strong directors at this point.

The show remains rock solid.

Resident Alien (2021) s02e03 – Girls’ Night

I kept wondering why they weren’t using any recognizable licensed music during this episode, even though it’s about (as the title suggests) a “Girls’ Night.” They’re listening to music multiple times, and then there’s a sequence with an accompanying song, but nothing big.

Then the finale uses a very famous, very recognizable theme song, and I imagine licensing it ate up the music budget for the episode. To great effect too.

The episode begins with a flashback to the nineties, with the main townie cast all kids out camping. There’s some good old sexism and toxic masculinity—intentionally—before establishing Elizabeth Bowen’s gotten the poop end of the stick since childhood. It comes up later, with the main plot involving Bowen never getting a raise as sheriff’s deputy, but the scene primarily serves as a tension break from last episode’s cliffhanger.

Bowen and boss Corey Reynolds had just discovered Alan Tudyk killed someone (not Tudyk the alien, Tudyk the human, before the alien killed him—making alien Tudyk a “murderer murderer”). There’s a fast, simple resolution to the cliffhanger—and the entire subplot—because “Resident Alien: Season Two” is also introducing new alien powers for Tudyk. Rarely used ones, like his silver Starman balls, discussed at one point to good comic effect.

So while that leftover thread from the first season is resolved, there’s still the matter of calling off the alien armada from destroying Earth; Tudyk needs more technology than his small mountain town can provide, so it’s good there’s a guest star.

Alex Borstein guests as Meredith Garretson’s cousin, who’s just hanging out. They happen to meet Tudyk, and Borstein’s quite taken with him, eventually leading to both a hilarious seduction sequence (complete with Tudyk in a cravat) and Borstein getting to do a Tudyk impression. Borstein’s fantastic.

She and Garretson go out with Sara Tomko, Alice Wetterlund, Bowen, and some other female semi-regulars for a night on the town. At the same time, Garretson’s husband, mayor Levi Fiehler, organizes a boy’s night for him, sheriff Reynolds, and Reynolds’s dad, Alvin Sanders. Since it’s a small mountain town, they all end up at the same bar.

It’s a funny episode, which eventually gets serious as the women realize Bowen’s lack of pay raise might not be exceptional for the town’s women. Also, Tomko charges Tudyk to think about things from women’s perspectives.

The last subplot is the kids’ one, with Gracelyn Awad Rinke finally figuring out what’s going on with Judah Prehn’s testosterone boost.

It’s a really good episode, with the show—script credit to Jenna Lamia, directed by Shannon Kohli—showing it’s got places to go with many of its characters, not just Tudyk. It’s still mostly Tudyk’s show, plus Tomko’s, but it’s got some well-executed and robust ensemble tendencies.

Tango & Cash (1989, Andrey Konchalovskiy)

The scary thing about Tango & Cash is its ability to improve. Not sure who wrote or directed the end of the second act, when Kurt Russell gets to act opposite people besides Sylvester Stallone and you remember it’s actually an achievement to make him so unlikable for so long, but it’s a lot better. During the sequence where Teri Hatcher gets to be profoundly objectified, the editors even manage to string together a subtle—for Tango & Cash—suspense sequence. It’s not great, but it’s about the only time in the movie you think anyone involved with it should be trusted with a video project more complicated than… not a wedding, but maybe a graduation?

And the editors are not unprofessional, incompetent editors. Tango & Cash is just so incredibly bad there’s no way to make it right.

The film’s got a single credited screenwriter—Randy Feldman—but he didn’t actually write much of what’s onscreen. The strange part is there isn’t a full list of script doctors; there must’ve been some kind of blood pact. There’s a couple moments I’m convinced are Jeffrey Boam but he swore none of his material made it. There’s also the single credited director, Konchalovskiy, but we know Albert Magnoli came in and did a bunch.

So there are failures at every level but the big problem is Stallone’s atrocious. He can’t land any of the jokes. Even if seventy-five percent of his jokes weren’t homophobic one-liners he murmurs to himself at the end of every scene, he wouldn’t be able to land any of the jokes. The direction’s bad, regardless of who did it, but there are giant terrible action sequences and those would require some kind of competency to execute. So, again, it’s not incompetent. The writing is incompetent. The directing is just uninspired and insipid.

But no one could get a good performance from Stallone in this part, which seems to be him demanding another shot at Beverly Hills Cop, complete with a Harold Faltermeyer score. Faltermeyer adds some Fletch to the Axel F and, voila, Stallone as a rich, Armani-clad Beverly Hills cop who only does the job for the action. Russell’s the rough and tumble one here, not owning a shirt without a torn neck.

They’re going to terribly bicker banter at each other for ninety or so minutes of the runtime (there are like five minute end credits, thank goodness) and you forget either Russell or Stallone has ever been in a good movie, much less given a good performance. Hence why it’s so noticeable when Russell all of a sudden gets a lot more engaging—because without the charisma black hole of Stallone’s performance, Russell can still shine.

Relatively speaking. It’s still all terrible.

And then it does get worse again. The third act’s awful.

No good performances; an uncredited Geoffrey Lewis and a Clint Howard cameo are the best and it’s not Hatcher or Michael J. Pollard’s fault. Jack Palance does more than the part or movie deserves as the Mr Big. He’s not good but he’s not boring. Lots of bad and boring in Tango & Cash.

Though with Brion James’s performance… it’s hard to be bored as one watches a performance as bad as James’s. Finding out Stallone thought it was a good performance and gave James more scenes—same thing happened with Robert Z’Dar, who is also laughably bad—explains some of Tango & Cash’s badness. The disaster starts to make sense at least.

The movie’s got an interesting place in Hollywood history—it’s the last Guber-Peters Company movie after they found a new peak early in the same year with Batman then they screwed over Warner Bros. (between Batman in the summer and Tango & Cash at Christmas)—but you certainly don’t have to watch the movie for that kind of trivia.

There’s no reason to watch Tango & Cash and there never has been. Unless you’re measuring its accelerating rot rate over time. But even then why bother.

Resident Alien (2021) s01e09 – Welcome Aliens

It’s the penultimate episode of the first season and it’s got a couple big cliffhangers. Not funny ones either, very, very dramatic ones, which might not be easily resolved in a single episode… and they might also greatly affect the second season.

So while “Resident Alien” is out of the the two episodes ago rut—excellent direction from Shannon Kohli this time, plus a good script credited to first-timer on the show Nastaran Dibai—the show’s not assured. The season’s backloaded with a bunch of rush-to-resolve. Who knows, maybe not dealing with these threads made the first half of the season stronger. Though there seems to be an entirely different set of writers.

Anyway.

This episode has Alan Tudyk recovering from last episode’s fall, with Sara Tomko taking care of him, and discovering he needs another part to repair his device. Luckily sort of pal and former nemesis Judah Prehn (I’m not sure if Prehn’s really good or just really well directed; it doesn’t matter here but he’s so effective) tells him where he can get alien materials—a UFO convention. Gracelyn Awad Rinke tags along with Prehn, leading to another great showcase for her.

Hopefully they’ll someday do an episode just with Tudyk hanging out with kids Prehn and Rinke, who until last episode were the only ones to know his secret. They’re really funny together.

Tomko tags along to the UFO convention—Tudyk’s on painkillers and can’t drive himself—where Tudyk offers commentary on all the various alien abductor races and so on. Lots of smiles and some laughs. Special guest star Terry O’Quinn eventually shows up and it turns out he’s able to see through Tudyk’s human disguise.

Meanwhile back in town, Alice Wetterlund’s got an arc about resenting Tudyk and Tomko for shutting her out after last episode’s daredevil rescue, which leads to one of the big subplots. It’s okay, but pairing Wetterlund with one note (character or performance, it’s unclear) Jenna Lamia for most of the subplot (eighty-sixing a far more interesting subplot sidekick in Kaylayla Raine, who’s actually got emotional involvement in it too) is a mistake. So qualified okay. We’ll see.

It doesn’t matter so much because the show is able to fix the Elizabeth Bowen situation. She’s still on the outs with Corey Reynolds, who gets to do a bunch of character development this episode before they get around to the fix. The fix is phenomenal, leveraging Bowen and Reynolds’s ability a lot more than the writing. Some great acting from Reynolds throughout the episode.

Then there’s another subplot for evil army intelligence people Mandell Maughan and Alex Barima hoodwinking unsuspecting Meredith Garretson and Levi Fiehler. It’s an effective subplot—Maughan’s onto Tudyk through Prehn and therefor parents Garretson and Fiehler—but the show is really overemphasizing Fiehler the dipshit husband. Garretson’s mostly support for him, when it’s been far stronger the other way around.

It’s a good episode and maybe they’ll figure out how to land it next time. But it’s hard to believe they’re not going to shove a bunch off to next season. Some outstanding acting from Tomko too.

Resident Alien (2021) s01e08 – End of the World as We Know It

Since last week’s big cliffhanger and series low episode (way low), “Resident Alien” has gotten its second season renewal. Apparently it wasn’t in danger of not getting a second season; it’s Syfy’s highest rated original in years or some such.

This episode does nothing to assuage about the overall quality of the show. It’s an all-action episode—with asides—as Alan Tudyk, Sara Tomko, and Alice Wetterlund try to stay alive in a glacier crevasse, the townsfolk perturb their arcs (not knowing the three are missing).

Shannon Kohli directs, doing a fine job; Taylor Christine writes (or gets the writer credit), also doing a fine job. Though the stuff with Tudyk, Tomko, and Wetterlund is all high stakes action drama, so it’s sort of a gimme. But the episode starts and finishes a character development arc for Levi Fiehler, playing off last episode’s events, and while it can’t right the ship (or it can’t guarantee righting the ship), it’s very nice to see the character work getting done.

Also Corey Reynolds isn’t cruel in this episode and his now even more troubled relationship with deputy Elizabeth Bowen gets some promising work done here too. It’s measured—the episode also ends on a cliffhanger so they’re definitely getting it geared to the season finale, but it’s less passively arranged chess pieces and more character agency.

Good performances in town from Reynolds (obviously) and one of Fiehler’s best performances in the series. His wife, Meredith Garretson, ends up playing support to him—other than when she bumps into evil Special Forces lady Mandall Maughan (Garretson and Maughan could be twins; seriously, when they run into each other—in a very obvious homage to a famous bit—I thought another shapeshifter alien had arrived). Bowen doesn’t get much but she’s real good too. Things seem in better shape. Also Gary Farmer’s around a bit, which is never bad.

But the spotlight is on Tomko as she has to help Tudyk survive some unpredictable injuries as they have some lengthy heart-to-heart conversations. Tudyk’s good too and often really funny, but half his face is in makeup because of aforementioned injuries; not to mention he doesn’t emote a lot in the part. But when the heart-to-hearts hit, they hit well.

It’s going to be interesting to see what happens next—not just in the plot (though it’s certainly getting a lot more familiar having read the comic)—but in the show’s quality level. Like I said, this episode doesn’t resolve quality pitfall of the previous episode… it just delays that verdict.

Fingers crossed. Especially after the episode reminds of Tomko’s considerable ability.

Fun with Dick and Jane (1977, Ted Kotcheff)

Every once in a while, Jane Fonda will say a line just right and Fun with Dick and Jane will be, well, fun for a moment. Not a long moment. Sometimes it approaches funny, sometimes it’s just fun. But it’s something. Because fun and funny are in short supply in Dick and Jane. Somehow the ability to do a ninety-five minute situation comedy escapes the collected creatives of Dick and Jane, mostly spectacularly the three writers—David Giler, Jerry Belson, Mordecai Richler, who want you to like lead George Segal for his racist, bigoted tendencies and to abhor the displays of humaneness around him—director Kotcheff, who can’t direct the simplest scene without screwing it up, editor Danford B. Greene, who manages not to have a single competent cut in the entire film.

I left cinematographer Fred J. Koenekamp and composer Ernest Gold off that initial list because they’re not glaringly inept like the writers, the director, and the editor. But the film would obviously be better if they’d replaced Gold with the generic Black funk they have during the minorities get together and slack-off while working third shift scene because it’s the seventies and it’s funny but not racist funny but, you know, if you want to read it that way, Dick and Jane will sell you your ticket too.

And Koenekamp’s not good but what’s he going to do, somehow miracle Kotcheff into being able to compose a shot. I mean, maybe it is Koenekamp’s fault, maybe he did tell Kotcheff the film was using a very special Panavision Panaflex where you couldn’t place it anywhere slightly interesting. Or maybe Kotcheff’s direction is just terrible.

Latter seems most likely.

But then it’s not like the acting is anything good either. Fonda’s far better than George Segal, whose comedic performance somehow gets lost because of how Kotcheff doesn’t shoot him and then however Greene ruins the edit. The script’s jokes are fairly simple; setup and punchline. Only Greene somehow fumbles every single punchline. Yes, he’s cutting between one terrible Kotcheff shot to another, but… I don’t know, cut more of the bad shots and make it move faster.

Because for ninety-five minutes… Dick and Jane is a sludge of a picture. The first act, which has Segal getting laid off and trying to navigate unemployment as an upwardly mobile White man—he momentarily teams up with Hank Garcia, who was also fired from Segal’s company; Garcia was the custodian, Segal a veep—is painfully unfunny, with Segal trying to be as elitist, racist, and bigoted as he can get away with because… privilege is good? I’m sure Dick and Jane thinks it’s making a statement about corporate America or something but it’s really just about entitled White people being terrible.

What else.

Oh, Ed McMahon. If you’ve never gotten to see Ed McMahon try to act, it’s a rare—what’s a good antonym of delight—it’s a rare agony. In some ways it’s like Kotcheff has directed the whole movie around McMahon, trying to force the movie to encompass his inept acting, which just drags everything else down with it.

Or, maybe, Kotcheff just does a really bad job directing and there’s no one around to save the day in post.

It’s not like there are any better subplots to rely on, as everything—including Sean Frye as Fonda and Segal’s kid—disappears. Though maybe it was a deal with the MPAA: the kid had to go once Fonda and Segal start robbing places for laughs.

I guess Fonda’s got some great outfits, courtesy Donfeld (did she get to keep them, I wonder) but James Hulsey’s production design is hideous. The movie’s an eyesore.

Fun with Dick and Jane is anything but.

Supergirl (2015) s05e06 – Confidence Women

Okay, so Steven Bauer is Julie Gonzalo’s dad, who’s been mentioned since the first episode of the season but never seen. It doesn’t appear to be a great part for Bauer but whatever, he’s fine. Though he does act to launder a bit of Gonzalo’s performance. He’s able to make it at least seem legit for a scene. Almost. Because it’s not a good performance—Gonzalo’s—in fact, it’s really, really bad. Because she’s not just the evil new boss at CatCo, she’s also a literal super-assassin who works for a mega-secret evil society, Leviathan (which I thought was from a Grant Morrison Batman but I don’t care enough to look). And she was a bad best friend to Lena (Katie McGrath), even though she and Lena had totally awesome early 2000s adventures together when they went drinking underage and bonded over Titanic. Really. Lots of Titanic remarks. Including one about how Lex Luthor responded to it.

Though, technically, most of Gonzalo and McGrath’s conversations do pass Bechdel, which is more a curiosity than anything else. Because what they’re talking about is dumb. They have this Hardy Girls adventure where they go to South America—because they’re rich—in search of magical treasure. They find it but Gonzalo takes it instead of giving it to McGrath, who wants to use it to save the world from her evil brother. The show’s done in flashbacks set in different eras, which is a terrible idea because Gonzalo is godawful in all the eras and McGrath can’t do anything with her abbreviated flashbacks.

There’s a little in the present day at the end, but really it’s just Lena turning into a porto-supervillain. She’s just going to need a push.

It’s another Arrowverse show where the main cast has very little to do… possibly because they’re shooting something else (Jon Cryer cameos as Lex for a flashback and not for another one of them and he’s in the Crisis). But maybe McGrath isn’t, which seems like a major slight as she’s the one getting all the lousy material. Except the flashback to when she chats with Melissa Benoist and all of a sudden you remember enjoying the characters interact. Seasons ago.

Gonzalo’s indicative of a larger problem with the show and the main female supporting players it introduces. Or the show’s casting. Or both. She drains positive energy from the show, which is runny super-low already.

My Cousin Rachel (1952, Henry Koster)

Olivia de Havilland is top-billed on My Cousin Rachel, but Richard Burton’s the star. For better or worse. Burton’s a young English gentleman, de Havilland is his cousin. And his cousin–and guardian’s–widow. She doesn’t appear for the first twenty-five minutes of the film, which instead have Burton becoming more and more concerned for his missing relative, who’s met de Havilland in Italy and impetuously married her.

The cousin calls for Burton because he suspects de Havilland (well, we don’t technically know it’s de Havilland yet because she isn’t in the movie yet) of poisoning him or somehow doing evil to him.

Burton’s trip to Italy culminates the film’s problems with rear screen projection. There’s some bad rear screen projection later, but pretty soon the movie is just set on the estate. The first act is rife with problems though. Joseph LaShelle’s photography never matches, contrast-wise, and director Koster shoots Burton super broody in front of those shots. Burton gets a lot better once de Havilland shows up, but at the beginning, he’s moody for no discernible reason. Other than him–at twenty-four–not being grown-up enough to be home alone (without the cousin who’s going to marry de Havilland… off-screen).

It causes a big disconnect as later on Burton’s often pouting about no one thinking he can put on his big boy pants by himself.

The Italy sequence is mostly indoors, with a couple too brief establishing shots. They don’t have problematic rear screen projection, they have problematic matte paintings. Again, it’s more the photography not matching than anything else causing the problems.

Once Burton gets back–after making a vow over his cousin’s grave to get to the bottom of his death–de Havilland shows up. She’s broke. Burton got all the money. He suspects her of being after it. Only it turns out she’s so sweet and sexy (even if she is thirty-five), Burton can’t resist her.

And then My Cousin Rachel turns into this wonderfully uncomfortable “romance” between de Havilland and Burton. Is she leading him on, how much is she leading him on, is she saint or villain. With a handful of exceptions, all of de Havilland’s scenes are opposite Burton. She gets few to herself, usually meant to raise or assuage the audience’s suspicions, but otherwise every moment is confusion. There’s Burton’s reliability, which gets more and more suspect as he gets more and more enraptured with her, but there’s also de Havilland’s actions and her timing of them. She’s definitely manipulating Burton; is it accidental or intentional. de Havilland has to raise those suspicions in scene and in subtext. There are no showdowns, no big revelations from her. She’s always a mystery. Only de Havilland doesn’t play it like she’s an intentional mystery.

The supporting cast oscillates between reinforcing suspicions and alleviating them. Burton’s guardian, Ronald Squire, is sometimes sure de Havilland’s good, sometimes sure she’s bad. Audrey Dalton, as Squire’s daughter and Burton’s initially presumed love interest, actually has the hardest part in the film because she’s got to get clued in to Burton’s obsession without ever seeing de Havilland encourage it. Given how things shake out in the end–and how badly the Italy interlude goes–Dalton probably should’ve been the protagonist (but not lead). She’s pretty much the only sympathetic character in the whole picture.

Then there’s George Dolenz as de Havilland’s Italian admirer and confidant. He’s another creep who might or might not be a creep. But since Burton gets to be quite the creep himself….

After a somewhat unsteady opening, the film gets quite good for the second and third acts. Burton’s a little too flat in his brooding, but de Havilland plays off it perfectly (apparently they couldn’t stand each other, which just seems to make their lop-sided chemistry all the better). And there’s even some great rear screen projection, albeit not of landscapes but for dream sequences.

The finale, however, is way too abrupt. The film forgets its been calling Burton’s reliability into question and only wants to concentrate on de Havilland’s. In the third act, even in good scenes, it’s hard not to notice there are only two female roles in Rachel–de Havilland’s succubus and Dalton’s saint. Even de Havilland and Dalton bring more to the parts, Johnson’s script doesn’t reward their contributions.

Franz Waxman’s score is all important. It’s dramatic, emotive, scary, lush, tragic, romantic. All the adjectives. The music is what gets the movie through some of the bad rear screen projection photography too. It implies a lot more going on in Burton’s head than Burton’s expressions or the narration do.

Koster’s direction is okay. It’s a little bland and it does nothing to get around the Code constraints, but some of those problems are Johnson’s fault, both as screenwriter and producer. Otherwise, Johnson’s script is excellent.

The movie just cops out with Burton, who’s the lead, even if he’s not top-billed. It’s constructed to cop out on de Havilland, but not on Burton, which is a shame. The film overcomes that first act and gets quite good thanks to de Havilland only to choke at its conclusion. Burton’s too flat on his own, sure, but it’s also on Johnson and Koster.

It’s a shame.

This post is part of the Third Annual Olivia De Havilland Blogathon hosted by Phyllis of Phyllis Loves Classic Movies and Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood.