-
The Dark Past (1948, Rudolph Maté)
The Dark Past opens with a lengthy, confidently showy, and capable POV sequence. Lee J. Cobb is arriving at work, just like anyone–and the movie does a lengthy “peoples is peoples” bit–except he’s a police psychiatrist. It’s his job to save kids from becoming hardened criminals, thereby not being on the taxpayer dime. It’s progressive but not too progressive. Cobb’s not some wuss.
Cobb is outstanding in the film. It’s a sometimes silly role with the framing sequence, but when he gets to acting, it’s acting. Past is a remake of a stage adaptation, and Maté spotlights the actors. Well, Cobb and Holden. Cobb’s the protagonist and narrator, and Holden’s the star. The rest of the cast stays busy, but everyone gets left in the dust. It’s worst for Nina Foch. Second-billed, and she just disappears.
Oh, yeah, the setup. So, when Cobb has to convince a cop a petty criminal is a human being, he tells the story of his adventure with Holden. Holden’s so infamous everyone recognizes his name. But apparently don’t know anything about his very consequential involvement with Cobb. No spoilers, but the more interesting story is the direct sequel.
So, back to the setup. Holden and his gang crash Cobb’s dinner party. They need a place to wait for their getaway boat. While the guests give Holden’s gang minor trouble, Cobb gets around to psychoanalyzing Holden in a commercial for the Freud method. Holden’s a vicious killer who delights in toying with his prey, but Cobb sees some glimmer of humanity and tries to cure him. Foch kind of wants picket fences and helps Cobb.
The second act is Cobb slowly unraveling the very simple knot Holden’s tied out of his subconscious. Holden can’t unravel it himself because he has repressed memories, which only come out in his single, ever-recurring nightmare. There’s an inverted color dream sequence. It’s not as successful as it should be.
Despite his top billing, the film keeps Holden in reverse for a good while. Once the bad guys take everyone hostage, it takes time even to get Holden and Cobb talking. Partly because of Holden’s reticence, and partly because there are so many subplots cooking. Every single one of them gets left unfinished. The film often feels like the framing device is a distraction from the real story–which is sort of true because there doesn’t end up being a comparison between Holden and the kid criminal in the present. It’s not about criminals possibly being human; it’s about psychiatry curing them of their anti-social tendencies. Cobb’s not even concerned how the patient feels about things.
It’s craven, and it makes for some great scenes. Holden can’t figure out Cobb’s angle, and–with the frame defining the character already–neither can the audience. Cobb’s intentionally inscrutable; the only thing the frame helps with.
Lois Maxwell plays Cobb’s wife, who does get to fail Bechdel with Foch, but otherwise just sits around with son Robert Hyatt. He’ll end up with a bit to do before the movie drops him for the next subplot. Past is so noncommittal to its subplots, for a while near the end I thought they might even skip closing the bookend. At that point, with everything else unfinished, why do it anyway?
Maxwell’s solid. She doesn’t get much at all. Foch is good with a little more. Between Holden and Cobb, Holden probably has the edge. It’s a showier role, but he’s also got an arc. Cobb’s just proving one point or another.
While Past has its problems, the stars are phenomenal, Maté’s direction is good, and Joseph Walker’s black and white cinematography is beautiful.
This post is part of the 6th Golden Boy Blogathon hosted by Emily of The Flapper Dame and Virginie of The Wonderful World of Cinema.
Posted on
Posted in
Tagged
-
Zero Hour! (1957, Hall Bartlett)
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: fighter pilot suffering PTSD boards an airplane in a last-ditch effort to salvage a bad relationship only for the plane to serve rotten fish, requiring this unstable pilot to fly the jet to safety. And there’s an exclamation point at the end of the title.
No, it’s not Airplane!, it’s that film’s (still) unofficial source material–Zero Hour!. The difference being Hour plays it straight, instead of making fun of playing it straight, but it’s all the same material; only, you’re watching it and not supposed to laugh at it.
And it’s a long eighty minutes, especially once Sterling Hayden shows up to start barking absolutely pointless exposition.
The movie begins with narration explaining just before the end of World War II, Canadian squadron leader Dana Andrews made a bad call and got most of his men killed. Or at least a large number of them. Hayden may or may not have been one of those men. The movie’s strangely opaque about it. When we leave 1945 for the future, Andrews is in bad shape. Fast forward ten years, and we find out he’s never made anything of himself, despite marrying Linda Darnell and having a kid (an abjectly annoying Ray Ferrell). Darnell’s fed up, and she’s leaving, so Andrews chases her to the airport and buys another seat to follow her.
There will be numerous moments throughout Hour when it seems like Darnell’s going to have something to do other than debase herself at the altar of machismo. She can’t respect Andrews because he won’t get over getting those guys killed and man up. The movie simultaneously tries to show the horrors of experiencing PTSD while also lambasting him for having it. When Andrews has to fly the jet, Darnell’s in the co-pilot’s chair, and it seems like there’s going to be the couple teaming up to solve their problem.
No, not at all. However, that sequence features Andrews’s best acting in the film, when he successfully intensely stares straight ahead in static panic. However, Andrews isn’t the worst performance. Thanks to Hour’s casting choices, the bloated screenplay, and director Bartlett’s failings… every performance in Hour is eventually bad except maybe Jerry Paris, who plays flight attendant Peggy King’s boyfriend. Sorry, misspoke—stewardess, and not just stewardess, but “Stewardess,” most of the characters refuse to acknowledge she may have a name. Paris is bland, but he’s consistent. For a while, it seems like King might turn in a good turn, but then no. She also can’t stop looking into the camera in the third act, which just makes the whole picture seem more embarrassing.
Geoffrey Toone plays the doctor, who luckily didn’t have the fish. He’s absolutely flat and delivers mouthfuls of exposition. Hour’s script is pretty sure all you have to do to convince people it’s legit is use enough jargon. But Toone’s not forceful enough. Hayden’s arguably worse—heck, he’s arguably the worst performance, and Hour also stars former pro-football star Elroy ‘Crazylegs’ Hirsch, and Hirsch is a very, very bad actor. But Hayden’s a phenomenon, chain-smoking, yelling at thin air, staring into space. It’s a masterclass in how not to do a solo performance.
Though he’s not solo, he’s got a bunch of yes-men around to look worried (and get coffee). Charles Quinlivan plays the main yes-man. And until the third act, Quinlivan seems like he will get through Hour unscathed. He does not, but he gives that impression the longest of anyone in the cast.
The special effects are ambitious—except the lousy stock footage (including when the Canadian jet becomes an American Airlines one). They’re not good, but they’re ambitious. The sets are either too big, or Bartlett doesn’t know how to shoot them.
Skip Zero Hour! and watch the remake.
This post is part of the 2nd Annual “Favorite Stars in B Movies” Blogathon hosted by Brian of Films From Beyond The Time Barrier.
Posted on
Posted in
Tagged
-
Rebecca (1940, Alfred Hitchcock)
Rebecca opens with protagonist Joan Fontaine narrating, establishing the present action as a flashback—which is kind of important considering how much danger Fontaine will be in throughout. She’s got to make it since there’s the narration. Some of that danger is in Fontaine’s head. Or, at least, she sometimes apprehensive of the wrong person. Sort of.
Rebecca is a passionate romance, a suspenseful thriller, and a reluctant character study. Fontaine’s nameless protagonist isn’t the one being studied, but rather her new husband, played by Laurence Olivier. Olivier’s a little older and a lot richer. He’s a relatively recent widower (Rebecca is the first wife), and he sweeps naive Fontaine off her feet.
The narration establishes the eventual setting—Olivier’s seaside estate—before heading to Fontaine and Olivier’s version of a meet-cute. They’re in Monte Carlo; she’s out sketching and comes across him on a cliff. She’s sure he’s going to jump. So, technically, maybe not a meet cute.
They soon meet again under formal circumstances. Fontaine is a paid companion to obnoxious rich lady Florence Bates. Bates knows Olivier socially, but he can’t stand her. However, once Bates gets a bug, Olivier and Fontaine become vacation buddies. Fontaine’s performance during these sequences is fantastic; the various emotions play out on her face as she observes Olivier, trying to figure out what’s happening.
What’s happening is a whirlwind romance; they leave Monte married. They’ll go on a honeymoon, which we see later on in home movies, but the action cuts from vacation to the estate. In the opening, director Hitchcock does what he can to make it not look too much like a miniature, but… it looks like a miniature. When Fontaine and Olivier arrive home, however, there’s this great composite shot of them driving up. The estate is a miniature, we won’t get any significant, closer exterior shots, but with that composite shot, Hitchcock makes sure the audience knows not to hold that kind of status against the film.
The film quickly introduces the new supporting cast—Judith Anderson as the imposing housekeeper who loved Rebecca, Reginald Denny as the estate manager, Gladys Cooper as Olivier’s sister, and Nigel Bruce as her comic relief husband. Olivier looses Fontaine to figure out how to run the house with Anderson’s help.
At this point, Olivier will orbit further and further away from Fontaine until they have their big second-act blowout. He’s busy being back but also actively neglecting to tell Fontaine anything about the house itself and how Rebecca liked it to be run. Much of the film during the second act is just Fontaine finding out more and more details Olivier really should’ve told her about. Why did he ever bring her there if Rebecca was so amazing? Since Olivier doesn’t confide in anyone, all the characters have a different impression of how Fontaine is supposed to function as the new lady of the estate. And since they all assume Olivier’s told Fontaine, no one gives her any context, with that lack knocking her between bewildered, overwhelmed, and frightened without any rest.
Hitchcock mounts whole set pieces just to showcase Fontaine’s discomfort and possible danger. There’s lots of beautiful work from Hitchcock, photographer George Barnes, and editor W. Donn Hayes. Fontaine acts the heck out of the scenes—and she’s the one who continues the character arc after the scenes forebodingly fade to black—but they’re technical marvels. Rebecca’s a great-looking (and sounding) film.
Just as Fontaine starts feeling like she should exert some agency, she tries to bond with Anderson over a favor—George Sanders, Rebecca’s favorite cousin, visits one day when OIivier’s out of town, and Fontaine promises to keep it a secret. Assuming she and Anderson share any kind of bond will be one of Fontaine’s worst mistakes.
Sanders is an abject delight. Rebecca’s got lots of great performances—while Fontaine gets a great showcase for the first three-quarters, Olivier then gets to play leading man for a bit and overshadows her—but Sanders is always a reliable scene stealer. He appears, takes over, then returns control on exit. It’s a fabulous balance. The three share a particularly great scene together.
The film has two major plot reveals to answer all the questions, tie up all the loose ends—one comes before the third act, one finishes off the film. In between those two reveals, Rebecca metamorphizes.
What follows is a very different film—still a romance and thriller, but with a different pace and narrative distance. Hitchcock changes things up for the finish, turning it into a race against time, then another, then another, all while bounding along the razor’s edge of melodrama. It’s a phenomenal success, delivering on many last-minute promises and giving the cast even further ranges to essay.
Hitchcock relies on a special effects set piece to close things out (did we forget there’s a narration safety net?), which has the added benefit of calling a draw on the performances. Fontaine has the most character development, while Olivier gets to do a great reveal and then excel further. Sanders and Anderson also have their singular qualities. Maybe it’s right no one can overshadow anyone else… they (and we) are all trapped in Rebeccas magnificent grasp.
This post is part of the Second Master Of Suspense Blogathon hosted by Maddy of Classic Film and TV Corner.
Posted on
Posted in
Tagged
-
The Odd Couple (1968, Gene Saks)
Even when The Odd Couple plods, it never feels stagey, which is impressive since it’s from a stage play (Neil Simon adapted his own play), it mostly takes place in the same location, and many of those sequences are just stars Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon following each other around and bickering. The one thing director Saks can do—the one thing he can reliably do—is not make the movie stagey.
Thank goodness.
While Saks doesn’t bring much to the film, his hands-off direction isn’t really a problem. Couple just doesn’t have a story. It’s got a setup—the film opens with a suicidal Lemmon roaming the streets of New York, trying to work up the courage to kill himself. He then ends up at poker bestie Matthau’s Friday night game, where all the fellows (Matthau, John Fielder, Herb Edelman, David Sheiner, Larry Haines) know Lemmon’s marriage has broken up, and he’s at least told the wife he’s going to kill himself. So it’s a lengthy first act, with lots of laughs (once we’re in the apartment, anyway).
Matthau offers to take Lemmon in, and we’ve got a movie. Matthau is a slob with a broken refrigerator and mold, while Lemmon is a neat freak who loves to cook. They’re perfect for one another. Then, they spend the movie getting on one another’s nerves.
Sort of.
Lemmon gets on Matthau’s nerves, and we hear in exposition about how Matthau gets on Lemmon’s nerves, but it’s not until Lemmon screws up Matthau’s double date night things start getting really bad. The film ostensibly takes place over three weeks, starting with the opening night, except all the days in the second and third acts are consecutive. And they’re not a week. Also there seem to be two Fridays very close to one another (the poker game is every Friday).
Since Lemmon’s the nuisance in the film, even with his top-billing, Matthau’s the star. They share the scenes together well, but Matthau’s the one who wants to meet girls (Monica Evans and Carole Shelley are two British divorcees who just happen to like much older American men), has work subplots, divorced dad subplots. Lemmon just cooks, cleans, and whines. His estranged wife and children don’t appear, though (especially given some details in the second act) they should; he doesn’t go to work (we don’t even find out his job until late second act). Lemmon’s just there to set up jokes and gags. At times, Matthau seems overwhelmed and frustrated to be the only one with anything to do—even when he’s processing his separation, Lemmon’s just got bits, no substance. Simon isn’t doing a character study or juxtaposition of divorced late-sixties men; he’s doing a situation comedy without many situations.
The acting’s all more than solid. Matthau’s got some great moments, Lemmon some good ones (then others where he hits the ceiling on how far Simon’s taking the character development), and the supporting cast is fun. Fiedler, in particular.
Technically, it’s also solid. Robert B. Hauser’s photography is competent without ever being particularly impressive—though Odd Couple’s got a wide Panavision aspect ratio so Saks can fit all the actors in a full shot, which should make it stagey, but, again, never does. Maybe it’s Hauser.
Great theme from Neal Hefti.
The Odd Couple’s funny, charming, and only terribly dated a couple times. It just doesn’t really go anywhere.
This post is part of the Mismatched Couples Blogathon hosted by Barry of Cinematic Catharsis and Gill of Realweegiemidget Reviews.
Posted on
Posted in
Tagged
-
Briefly, Movies (Winter 2024)
American Fiction (2023) D: Cord Jefferson. S: Jeffrey Wright, John Ortiz, Erika Alexander, Leslie Uggams, Sterling K. Brown, Issa Rae, Tracee Ellis Ross. Sublime deconstruction of the American academia novel, as through the eyes of exhausted ultra-brow author Wright, who realizes maybe he is willing to sell out to get rich. Especially since he’s back home visiting mom Uggams, sister Ross, and brother Brown. Great performances—Wright’s fantastic–with just the right amount of big twists and little. Stellar feature debut from Jefferson, who adapted Percival Everett’s novel ERASURE.
Argylle (2024) D: Matthew Vaughn. S: Bryce Dallas Howard, Sam Rockwell, Bryan Cranston, Catherine O’Hara, Henry Cavill, John Cena, Samuel L. Jackson. Spy novel writer Howard finds her fictional hero (Cavill) has an unlikely real-life counterpart (Rockwell). Numerous good moments, but it’s always a little too desperate and too cheap. Lots of the cast seems checked out, with Howard doing the lion’s share. Bad special effects don’t help either.
Bruce Springsteen – The Promise – The Making of Darkness on the Edge of Town (2010) D: Thom Zimny. S: Bruce Springsteen, Mike Appel, Roy Bittan, Clarence Clemons, Jimmy Iovine, Nils Lofgren, Patti Smith. Okay assembled footage doc with the E Street Band recounting the creation of the DARKNESS album. Zimmy’s way too lazy when it comes to structure, but there’s some great Springsteen interviewing. It just needs about ten more minutes to contextualize. Alas, no. But for some Boss process insights? All good.
Drag Me to Hell (2009) D: Sam Raimi. S: Alison Lohman, Justin Long, Lorna Raver, Dileep Rao, David Paymer, Adriana Barraza, Reggie Lee. Bank loan manager Lohman pisses off old lady Raver, who puts a curse on her just as she’s up for a promotion and meeting boyfriend Long’s parents for the first time. Even worse… the curse is real. Often great direction, but the script’s a passively misogynist mess, Lohman’s barely okay, Long’s bad, and the end stinks.
The Evil Dead (1981) D: Sam Raimi. S: Bruce Campbell, Ellen Sandweiss, Richard DeManincor, Betsy Baker, Theresa Tilly. Now classic low-budget young adults in a haunted cabin gore-feast is a great debut for director Raimi and leading man Campbell. Great, gruesome special effects, terrifying sequences, and untold buckets of blood abound. Excellent production values for the money, with outstanding photography from Tim Philo and a perfect score by Joseph LoDuca. Edited by Joel Coen! For DVD, Raimi reframed the 4:3 16mm to an HD aspect radio SPECIAL EDITION, which was anything but. The reframing killed the timing, atmosphere, and almost everything else. Blu-ray and UHD restored the original aspect ratio, thank goodness. Followed by EVIL DEAD II.
Evita (1996) D: Alan Parker. S: Madonna, Antonio Banderas, Jonathan Pryce, Jimmy Nail, Victoria Sus, Julian Littman, Olga Merediz. Adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice musical about Argentine “Spirtual Leader” Eva Peron features an almost really good Banderas and a very blah Madonna. Director Parker does a bad job filming an otherwise handsome production. There are a handful of really good numbers, but Banderas can only compensate for so much.
Gimme Shelter (1970) D: David Maysles. S: Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts, Keith Richards, Mick Taylor. Singular documentary covering The Rolling Stones’s 1969 U.S. tour and the disaster of its last venue, the Altamont Free Concert. Phenomenal multi-layered document of tragedy, with artful control throughout. Absolutely devastating and, in hindsight, hopeless.
Knights of Badassdom (2013) D: Joe Lynch. S: Peter Dinklage, Summer Glau, Steve Zahn, Ryan Kwanten, Margarita Levieva, Jimmi Simpson, Brett Gipson. Nearly clever fantasy-horror-comedy about Live Action Role-Players (LARPers) unleashing a demon during a tournament. The acting’s never terrible just bland. Dinklage, Simpson, and Gipson are pretty good. The too bumpy third act does it in.
Moonage Daydream (2022) D: Brett Morgen. S: David Bowie. Way too long super-cut of extremely on television David Bowie with music video footage and interviews providing the career retrospective “narrative.” Bowie’s charisma carries the entire thing, though can’t stop the drag or the trite. The world’s best and worst greatest hits promo video.
Moulin Rouge! (2001) D: Baz Luhrmann. S: Nicole Kidman, Ewan McGregor, John Leguizamo, Jim Broadbent, Richard Roxburgh, Garry McDonald, Jacek Koman. Abjectly terrible tale of famous Paris nightspot and its star crossed denizens. Many levels of atrocious on display, whether it’s the writing (ha), choreography (bigger ha), or Kidman’s performance (biggest ha). Sadly, the joke’s on the viewer. Amusing–for a fraction of a second–to see McGregor act (in a bad part) while Kidman’s incapable of doing so.
Nanny (2022) D: Nikyatu Jusu. S: Anna Diop, Michelle Monaghan, Sinqua Walls, Morgan Spector, Rose Decker, Leslie Uggams, Olamide Candide Johnson. Real deal performance from Anna Diop as a nanny suffering shitty white people to the point it affects her mental health. Also, there’s maybe magic. Incredibly tense, nice support from everyone, great photography, real good direction. The second to third act transition is rocky, but the film comes through big.
One, Two, Three (1961) D: Billy Wilder. S: James Cagney, Liselotte Pulver, Horst Buchholz, Pamela Tiffin, Hanns Lothar, Arlene Francis, Leon Askin. Brisk but empty madcap comedy about Coca-Cola rep Cagney’s shockingly sexist (even for 1961) adventures in pre-Wall Berlin, trying to sell Coke to the Russians while cheating on wife Francis with secretary Pulver and keeping boss’s horny daughter Tiffin away from East Berliner Buchholz.Lots of wink-wink-nudge-nudge ex-Nazi jokes. Buccholz’s awful, Francis’s great; everyone else is in between.
Suitable Flesh (2023) D: Joe Lynch. S: Heather Graham, Judah Lewis, Bruce Davison, Johnathon Schaech, Barbara Crampton, Hunter Womack. Weird, icky homage to eighties Lovecraft adaptations with some creepy moments and wacky performances, particularly Graham and Lewis–with everyone having at least two great moments. Quirk overcomes the forecasted, predictable conclusion.
Summer of Soul (…Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) (2021) D: Questlove. S: Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, B.B. King, Mahalia Jackson, Sly Stone. Consistently awesome documentary about the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival (aka Black Woodstock). They filmed the whole thing and then couldn’t sell it. Fifty years later, SUMMER resurrects the memories. Some original footage was lost and it would’ve put things over the top. It could easily run twice as long without drag. So good.
Under Suspicion (1991) D: Simon Moore. S: Liam Neeson, Laura San Giacomo, Kenneth Cranham, Alphonsia Emmanuel, Maggie O’Neill, Stephen Moore, Malcolm Storry. Moody 1950s-set British thriller about man slut P.I. Neeson getting into trouble after rigging a divorce case and romancing client’s mistress San Giacomo. Director Moore’s script tries hard not to be predictable but eats its own tail. Neeson’s fine, San Giacomo’s not; Cranham’s good as Neeson’s sidekick.
Willy’s Wonderland (2021) D: Kevin Lewis. S: Nicolas Cage, Emily Tosta, Beth Grant, Ric Reitz, Chris Warner, Kai Kadlec, Caylee Cowan. Silent man with a muscle car Cage finds himself broken down in a tiny town, working off his repairs at a Chuckie Cheese-style joint. Only the animatronic animals are all killer monsters who eat people. Never quite good, never too bad; it tries and succeeds at being a gory lot.