Tag Archives: Michael York

Logan’s Run (1976, Michael Anderson)

I wouldn’t say everyone does their best in Logan’s Run, but everyone does try. Farrah Fawcett does try in her scenes. You can see she’s trying. And for some reason director Anderson wants to make it painfully clear no matter how hard she tries, Fawcett’s going to be terrible. But at least Fawcett’s big moment comes right before Run finally gets interesting. Only takes it an hour.

In the 23rd century, the world is an irradiated wasteland. Within it lies a domed mega-city. Outside the dome, a cursed earth. Inside the dome, a paradise; every need is met, every desire granted; the only catch? No one lives past thirty. A master computer controls the civilization with population control and eugenics. It is not called execution, it is called renewal. Most people submit to this fate willingly, those who do not run a place called Sanctuary. Only one thing trying to keep them to fulfill their civic duty: the Sandmen.

Hopefully you enjoyed that paragraph because it’s basically better than everything in Logan’s Run except Peter Ustinov. Just mentioning Peter Ustinov in Logan’s Run ought to be a spoiler, but it’s not because he’s in the opening credits with an “as Old Man” character description too. Movie about no one living past thirty and we know “Old Man” Ustinov is going to play a part. We also think Roscoe Lee Browne is going to play a part, which is strange since he too is over thirty but he’s not actually in the movie because he’s Black and there aren’t any Black people who get lines in Logan’s Run. They don’t even show up until the last shot. It’s all White people. And they’re all idiots—it’s a shock when they can read; Run does a terrible job making the future seem possible for the kept humans. Everything’s perfect, but no one’s running it. Like the orgy place in the mall, who’s in charge of cleaning up the orgy place and hiring the custodial staff. Far more interesting story potential.

But one thing the future people understand pretty well is consent; it’s a big plot point when lead (and Sandman) Michael York orders up a booty call on “The Circuit” and gets Jenny Agutter, who was looking to hook up but not with a Sandman because a Sandman killed one of her friends early that night. It was, of course, York. But that detail doesn’t trouble Agutter for long because she’s kind of dumb. Just like everyone, even York and his best pal (and fellow Sandman), Richard Jordan. Until Ustinov shows up, Jordan gives the film’s best performance. He’s at least able to acknowledge his character. York can never acknowledge he’s playing a sadist. Jordan and York torture Agutter’s friend. They terrorize him and then murder him. And they have a great time doing it—Jordan’s a great sadist and York’s smiles are a lot more genuine than when he’s making kissy-face with Agutter.

So Run sets up its “hero” as this sadist himbo who accidentally gets assigned the most important case in the history of the Sandmen. It’s top secret—he’s got to try to run. And, wouldn’t you know it, Agutter knows all about the secret underground running network. She wants to help York because she thinks he’s swell, but will she ever want to hook up with him? And how would anyone tell when she made the decision one way or the other because Agutter and York have no chemistry. York’s okay playing the future executioner cop, but once he gets challenged with all Agutter’s hippie stuff, he dumbs down a lot, which makes no sense because the movie introduces all the hippie stuff when York’s talking to Jordan about it and Jordan tell’s York to shut up and stop thinking. Apparently York’s not really interested in the hippie stuff and gets scared and upset when Agutter talks about it.

Until his big assignment. Then it’s his job to know the hippie stuff. Logan’s Run has a really overly complicated first act for what just ends up being a chase movie. Jordan after the fugitives. All the future stuff is completely unimportant to the plot, even though director Anderson and screenwriter David Zelag Goodman pretend it’s going to factor into the plot. It doesn’t. Nothing figures into the plot. Except, eventually, Ustinov.

Ustinov’s awesome. He ought to make Logan’s Run worth watching. But not even he can manage that task.

Because even though everyone is trying, it’s not working. Anderson’s terrible with the special effects, which are sometimes less competent than other times. Ernest Laszlo’s bad at shooting the effects. Bob Wyman’s bad at editing them. York’s got this silly “future” gun, but it’s a crappy flare gun. Dale Hennesy’s production design is… wanting. But the sets are kind of great. They’re impressively rendered, anyway. Only the matte paintings are all godawful. Because Anderson doesn’t know how important they are. Or how to shoot them.

Then there’s Jerry Goldsmith’s “future groovy” score. It’s fairly godawful too.

But he’s trying something with it. Failing, but trying.

More than anything else, the movie hinges on York and Agutter and they’re terrible together. He’s mediocre, she’s bad, together they’re terrible. Kills the movie’s chances, awesome Ustinov or not, enthusiastic Jordan or not. Plus the third act is terrible.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Michael Anderson; screenplay by David Zelag Goodman, based on the novel by William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson; director of photography, Ernest Laszlo; edited by Bob Wyman; music by Jerry Goldsmith; production designer, Dale Hennesy; produced by Saul David; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring Michael York (Logan), Jenny Agutter (Jessica), Richard Jordan (Francis), Roscoe Lee Browne (Box), Farrah Fawcett (Holly), Michael Anderson Jr. (Doc), and Peter Ustinov (Old Man).


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The Three Musketeers (1973, Richard Lester)

The Three Musketeers is so much fun, you barely notice when the film takes a turn in the last thirty or so minutes. The Musketeers are on a mission—they’ve got to deliver a letter to England to save at least one lady’s honor, possibly two—and just as the film reunites them all with the promise of action… it starts shedding them. They get in individual fights or duels, leaving Michael York to go on alone. Well, he brings faithful servant Roy Kinnear along, but Kinnear’s just there for the (very good) laughs. It’s not like he’s going to tell York the important things, like how to get off England since it’s an island.

York’s the film’s protagonist, though George MacDonald Fraser’s script isn’t great about treating him like it once all the “guest stars,” not to mention Raquel Welch’s cleavage (once Welch’s cleavage arrives, it’s all anyone present gives any attention, cast and crew alike), come into the film. York’s D’Artagnan, would-be Musketeer, who happens across a trio of real Musketeers who could always use another partner in literal crime. See, the Musketeers work for the King, meaning they brawl (sword brawl) with the Cardinal’s guards. The film never bothers explaining why there’s the animosity between the groups or why, although loyal to the King (Jean-Pierre Cassel), his Musketeers fight with the Cardinal’s men, even though the King is allied with the Cardinal. Charlton Heston, with what appears to be a fake goatee, is the Cardinal.

Doesn’t matter, the guys in red are bad, the guys in (mostly) black are good. The good guys are Oliver Reed (Athos), Frank Finlay (Porthos), and Richard Chamberlain (Aramis). Reed’s the drunk pensive but heroic one, Finlay’s the vaguely inept dandy, Chamberlain’s the adept dandy as well as the trio’s Don Juan. Chamberlain, we’re told, likes the married ladies. So does York, as Welch is married, and the film gets a lot of laughs out of mocking her cuckold (a fantastic Spike Milligan).

The first half of the film introduces York, the Musketeers, evil (he’s eye-patched so there’s no mistaking it) Christopher Lee, and the political ground situation. See, Cassel is useless fop who’s going to let Heston do whatever Heston wants to do, so long as Heston at least pretends Cassel isn’t a useless fop. The film shot on location—in Spain, not France, but still in palaces and such—so you’re seeing the intrigue play out with these impeccably costumed (Yvonne Blake’s costuming is magnificent) “royals” lounge around palaces and deserve a Revolution more by the minute. It adds a wonderful subtext to the film, which showcases and romances the grand opulence of historical royalty without being able to not show it also as, you know, utterly pointless and a really bad way for society to function. Because the Musketeers are alcoholic gambling addicts who end up stealing from the commoners. Arguably, the Cardinal’s guards are “better” civil servants. Though—again, Fraser doesn’t dwell—the Musketeers are mercenaries between wars; adventurers in the sense drunken carousing is adventuring.

And, arguably, the big mission at the end is against the King, though arguably for France. Musketeers is lightly bawdy adventure comedy for the whole family—though, unless she really, really, really likes Michael York, there’s nothing anywhere near approaching the male gaze equivalent of Raquel Welch—so no dwelling on politics, infidelity (klutzy Welch doesn’t even seem aware her husband might mind being cuckolded), or even its characters. See, one of the things you realize in the finale—besides how, outside a cat fight between Welch and bad lady Faye Dunaway in ball gowns (and what glorious gowns they are), the ball Welch and Dunaway are dressed for, and some solid sight gags, the finale’s action is rather uninspired and unenthusiastic—you also realize the titular Three Musketeers are totally unimportant to the film at this point. York getting the most to do makes sense, but the film goes so far as the make the other Musketeers comic relief. Brief comic relief.

It’d be fine if the sword fights were better, but they’re not. Three Musketeers starts with a gymnastic training sword fight scene between York and his father and then some more nonsense with York (he’s naive to the point of buffoonery, which is rather endearing as York plays it completely—and very Britishly—straight); it takes the film awhile to deliver a great sword fight, but then it does deliver a great one, with Lester’s best action direction, John Victor Smith’s best cuts, but also Dons Challis and Sharpe’s sound editing. Three Musketeers goes from being a “handsome” period piece to a considerable period action picture. And then the fight’s over and it’s back to handsome period piece, funny, active. But once Welch’s cleavage enters the literal frame, Lester and the film’s ambitions for an action picture disappear.

There’s a decent night time sword fight with the opponents using hand lanterns to see, but the finale’s fireworks-lighted long shot swordplay brawl isn’t anything special. The most impressive thing about a grand action picture’s third act shouldn’t be the awesomely ostentatious costume ball costumes but then you also wouldn’t think David Watkin’s photography would be so much better on the ball than the action sequences either. Three Musketeers goes into the third act somewhat soft and never really recovers.

At least solid performances from everyone. It’s hard with Welch because she’s got a lousy role and you almost wish she was bad so she wouldn’t work in the lousy role. But she’s not. She’s not a comedic genius but Lester’s not interested in her performance, he’s interested in her anatomy. York’s a good lead. Reed’s awesome. Chamberlain’s got like six lines. Finlay’s good. Supporting cast… Milligan and Kinnear are great, Cassel’s fine, Lee’s great, Dunaway’s okay (again, crappy part), Heston’s tolerable.

Of course, I’ve skipped mentioning the subplot about French Queen Geraldine Chaplin and British prime minister Simon Ward, somewhat unintentionally, but suffice to say, it’s an important subplot and both actors are good. Even if theirs is the far more interesting story than anything else going on in the picture. Especially the Welch cuckolding Milligan subplot, which is sometimes hilarious, usually funny, but not interesting. It’s cheap laughs. Chaplin and Ward… Fraser and Lester could’ve done something. They do not. Nice roles for both actors though. Thin but nice.

The Three Musketeers is glorious, gorgeous adventure. It has the pieces to be better but not the ambition. It’s easy; sometimes easy is good enough.

2.5/4★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Richard Lester; screenplay by George MacDonald Fraser, based on the novel by Alexandre Dumas; director of photography, David Watkin; edited by John Victor Smith; music by Michel Legrand; production designer, Brian Eatwell; produced by Alexander Salkind, Ilya Salkind, and Michael Salkind; released by CFDC-UGC.

Starring Michael York (D’Artagnan), Raquel Welch (Constance de Bonacieux), Oliver Reed (Athos), Richard Chamberlain (Aramis), Frank Finlay (Porthos), Christopher Lee (Rochefort), Geraldine Chaplin (Queen Anna), Jean-Pierre Cassel (King Louis XIII), Faye Dunaway (Milady), Spike Milligan (M. Bonacieux), Roy Kinnear (Planchet), Simon Ward (Duke of Buckingham), Georges Wilson (Treville), and Charlton Heston (Cardinal Richelieu).


This post is part of the Costume Drama Blogathon hosted by Debbie of Moon in Gemini.