Category: 1974

The Parallax View (1974, Alan J. Pakula)

Not quite halfway through The Parallax View, the film loses its footing. Director Pakula keeps the audience a good three car lengths from not just the action of the film–with long shots in Panavision–but also understanding the action of the film. Parallax even goes so far to introduce protagonist Warren Beatty with a proverbial wink.

But Beatty isn’t a traditional protagonist. Screenwriters Dean Giler and Lorenzo Semple Jr. don’t just keep viewers from passing judgement on Beatty, the writers keep viewers from even thinking they might want to think about the character at all. Beatty moves through the film just fine, but he’s being endearingly indignant or running most of the time. It’s not a hard job.

It’s especially not a hard job since a lot of the effectiveness comes through due to the technical aspects of Parallax. Gordon Willis’s photography is amazing, even if Pakula does mostly utilize the right side of the frame for action; the left tends to be for setting information and the shots are beautiful, just beautiful with too much free space.

John W. Wheeler’s editing is also of note. Every cut in Parallax, which is always trying to surprise the viewer–whether with big conspiracy stuff or, in the first half, Beatty’s roguish behavior–and it works thanks to Wheeler.

Well, Wheeler and composer Michael Small. Parallax’s a cynical take on a patriotic hero story; Small’s music plays to it sincerely.

Parallax may have its problems, but it’s also gorgeous filmmaking.

2.5/4★★½

CREDITS

Produced and directed by Alan J. Pakula; screenplay by David Giler and Lorenzo Semple Jr., based on the novel by Loren Singer; director of photography, Gordon Willis; edited by John W. Wheeler; music by Michael Small; production designer, George Jenkins; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Warren Beatty (Joseph Frady), Paula Prentiss (Lee Carter), William Daniels (Austin Tucker), Walter McGinn (Jack Younger), Hume Cronyn (Bill Rintels), Kelly Thordsen (Sheriff L.D. Wicker), Chuck Waters (Thomas Richard Linder), Earl Hindman (Deputy Red), Anthony Zerbe (Prof. Nelson Schwartzkopf) and William Joyce (Senator Charles Carroll).

RELATED

Romance with a Double Bass (1974, Robert Young)

It’s hard to know where to start with Romance with a Double Bass. I suppose one could call it a comedy of errors, but the error in question is skinny dipping. First John Cleese, as a musician, goes skinny dipping and then Connie Booth, as the princess whose betrothal ball he is engaged to play at, goes skinny dipping.

Suffice to say, complications ensue.

The majority of Bass is Cleese and Booth running around naked, occasionally hidden by forest foliage, often not. It opens as a proto-“Fawlty Towers” with Cleese getting perturbed with people… but then becomes something quite different. While awkward and uncomfortable, Bass is never absurd and it’s actually quite charming.

Director Young has some nice shots, but for the most time he just lets Cleese do whatever he wants and it works. It’s mostly Cleese’s show. Even Booth eventually disappears, letting Cleese successfully take the spotlight.

Swamp Thing (1972) #13

Sw13

Even though the issue ends with a teaser of the next one, it reads a little like Wein was preparing for it to be Swamp Thing’s finale. Swamp Thing reveals his identity to Matt Cable and then, instead of setting off with Matt to adventure, heads back to the swamp. It takes Swamp Thing a night to walk from Washington D.C. to Louisiana. Wein’s not so great at geography apparently.

This issue features Redondo’s best work so far. Besides integrating horrific into his tragic renderings of Swamp Thing, he also gets to do a lot of regular action. Matt and Abby put on SHIELD uniforms to break Swamp Thing out, for example.

Wein starts off stronger than he finishes, opening with Swamp Thing discovering his serum, in the swamp water, has been mutating the wildlife. It’s interesting, but Wein moves on immediately.

It’s goofy and pointless, but never too bad.

Swamp Thing (1972) #12

Sw12

I’ve decided what Redondo does so differently from Wrightson (and how it effects the book). He draws Swamp Thing not as a muscle-bound, ideal specimen… but rather a lumpy, awkward creature. No wonder he looks forlorn all the time. It changes how the book plays. One wouldn’t think Arcane would be after Swamp Thing’s body if he’d seen it as Redondo conceives it.

The issue is a depressing affair, with Swamp Thing tied to an unfortunate man who’s cursed to live forever… starting at the dawn of time. It apparently gets lonely when one’s alive billions of years. Wein plots it a little like a mystery, which works, but Swamp Thing’s inglorious departures from various time periods leaves something to be desired. Oddly, the internal thoughts start poor and get better, like Wein’s getting back into the groove.

Speaking of upping the grooviness… Wein gives Cable a black sidekick.

Swamp Thing (1972) #11

Sw11

Nestor Redondo has the somewhat impossible task of following Bernie Wrightson. He does pretty well, though he could have gotten more help from Wein. Redondo recasts Swamp Thing as more of a lumbering superhero (Redondo’s expressions of Swamp Thing’s frequent dismay are startling, given the character is genetically predisposed to stoicism). But he does fine. The cliffhanger’s fantastic and his people are good.

But Wein’s plot and his details (the dialogue, Swamp Thing’s thoughts) are all questionable. The issue’s a sequel to a Phantom Stranger issue Wein wrote three years earlier… it ties Swamp Thing to the greater supernatural DC universe, but it’s an odd fit. There’s only so much one might believe could happen in Swamp Thing’s particular swamp.

There’s a lot of cruelty; Wein explains why it’s okay later, but it’s a cheap excuse. He also objectifies Abby here (for the first time).

It’s all right, just… off.

Swamp Thing (1972) #10

Sw10

I love this issue. I only sort of remembered it, but I love what Wein and Wrightson do with it. Wrightson gets a story credit so maybe he’s the one who came up with the concept. Swamp Thing’s back in his swamp, basically just hanging around, when he comes across an old black woman. A very old black woman; she used to be a slave on a plantation nearby. She tells him a story about how the swamp is protected by the ghosts of slaves.

Then Arcane and his Un-Men show up and attack Swampy. You get a few pages of beautiful Wrightson fight art, then the slaves’ ghosts show up to save Swamp Thing. He sleeps through the fight; it happens unseen.

The issue has a dreamlike quality to it. It’s this haunting little story where Swamp Thing isn’t even the lead when fighting his nemesis.

Just wonderful.

Swamp Thing (1972) #9

Sw09

Wein and Wrightson (he has some amazing panels this issue, whether Matt and Abby at the beach or a captured alien) are back on task this issue.

While Wein still overwrites, the plotting is so good it doesn’t matter again. This issue brings Swamp Thinig back to the swamp where he was created and Wein nicely contrives to get Matt back there too. Swamp Thing’s back to work in his lab—it only occurred to me this issue all his adventures previous were out of his control; the delay is because Arcane grabbed him second issue—and he runs into an alien.

The alien’s using the lab to repair his spacecraft, which leads to some misunderstanding between him and Swamp Thing. The alien design from Wrightson is singular; it’s utterly brilliant.

Cable shows up with the rest of the government agents to contain the situation.

Compications ensue.

A great issue.

Swamp Thing (1972) #8

Sw08

While the cover—Swamp Thing versus green tentacles—might be memorable, this issue is the first where Wein doesn’t come up with something distinctive as far as narrative. It’s Swamp Thing not versus green tentacles but versus a Lovecraftian god. A really, really weak one who lives in a mine and eats people to get stronger. Swampy takes him out with a cave-in.

Wrightson’s panels, on the monster section, are very strong. He draws a hideous creature and does the summary of its history well too. But the rest of the issue feels dispassionate. Swamp Thing shows up in town after fighting a bear. It’s not a very interesting fight scene, against the bear, in a cave. And then there’s a bunch of talking heads pages, only since Swamp Thing doesn’t talk, it’s rather boring.

It’s decent enough, but something’s definitely missing.

I mean, where are Matt and Abby?

Murder on the Orient Express (1974, Sidney Lumet)

There are two significant problems with Murder on the Orient Express. Unfortunately, both of them are aspects of the film’s genre. Well, one of them is an aspect of the genre and the other is related to the film’s extremely high quality acting. So, neither of them are “problems” in the traditional sense.

First, the solution. The solution scene in Orient Express is one of Lumet’s fantastic long sequences of filmmaking. However, it’s a narratively unsound scene. How to talk about it without “spoiling.” The solution sequence does not offer the characters anything, the people who are experiencing the film’s events, just the viewer. Yes, it has to be done because it’s a mystery, but it doesn’t make any sense.

Second is less about genre and more about the film itself. Murder on the Orient Express has one of the finest casts ever assembled–and many of them give these sublime, luminescent performances. The standouts are John Gielgud, Vanessa Redgrave, Colin Blakely, Rachel Roberts, Anthony Perkins and Ingrid Bergman. Albert Finney is great in the lead–I grew up thinking this performance was indicative of the rest of his work–with Lauren Bacall being a great comedic foil.

The best story for the characters these actors create is not, however, the one in the film. There’s a scene where everyone gets a moment together and it’s transcendent. I had tears in my eyes (Richard Rodney Bennett’s music probably helped).

It’s the best film this story could be; it’s technically marvelous.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Sidney Lumet; screenplay by Paul Dehn, based on the novel by Agatha Christie; director of photography, Geoffrey Unsworth; edited by Anne V. Coates; music by Richard Rodney Bennett; production designer, Tony Walton; produced by John Brabourne; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Albert Finney (Hercule Poirot), Lauren Bacall (Mrs. Hubbard), Martin Balsam (Bianchi), Ingrid Bergman (Greta), Jacqueline Bisset (Countess Andrenyi), Jean-Pierre Cassel (Pierre), Sean Connery (Colonel Arbuthnot), John Gielgud (Beddoes), Wendy Hiller (Princess Dragomiroff), Anthony Perkins (McQueen), Vanessa Redgrave (Mary Debenham), Rachel Roberts (Hildegarde), Richard Widmark (Ratchett), Michael York (Count Andrenyi), Colin Blakely (Hardman) and George Coulouris (Doctor).

RELATED

Batman (1940) #259

Bm259

So this crappy story is dedicated to the memory of Bill Finger. I guess it’s best to have a crappy story dedicated to your memory rather than you, since if you’re still alive, you might have to read it.

This second team-up between Batman and the Shadow is amusingly weak (but better than the first, which was so awful I never even got around to mentioning the Shadow in my response). Novick and Giordano are very strong on the art–better doing real people than Batman, actually. There’s a jewelry store robbery at the beginning and it’s just fantastic.

O’Neil’s writing is lousy. My favorite is Batman almost getting beat up by a fit ex-con–because Batman isn’t very fit. Not as fit as this fit ex-con, anyway.

Bad dialogue, stupid revelations of Batman’s psychosis.

But at least O’Neil didn’t plagiarize any Oscar winning movies this time.