holdencopywriting

Intriguing film. Kept me guessing as to what would happen next. Ben Kingsley gives an excellent performance. I was struck by the scene in the country when an old woman seemingly ignores Kingsley, but just touches the side of his face as she passes him. Great moment. Not a perfect film, but definitely worth seeing.

Usually, Gilbert & Sullivan operettas are supposed to be light, funny, witty, ironic, and entertaining. But this production is none of those things. Even Vincent Price can't save it. There's a lot of bad singing, heavy-footed dancing, and people sort of standing around doing nothing. The costumes are uninteresting. The sets are dull. Characters that should be fun and silly and memorable are flat and tired.

There's a lack of joy and fun. Plodding, that's the word. Plodding. I couldn't wait for it to be over. If you showed this DVD to someone unfamiliar with Gilbert & Sullivan, they would never go see another operetta during the whole rest of their lives.

Dream Job is a pleasant little show. Vincent Price is charming and does a slight southern accent that makes you just sort of want to curl up with him. He's so charming that he makes the rather unbelievable plot believable. I loved the premise that Joan Leslie is an annoyance to her temp agency for giving up jobs because she's got the notion that there's a perfect job out there with easy hours, perks, and a charming boss (wedding bells someday?). And then he shows up. I enjoyed Dream Job. It's a fluff, but Vincent Price always is so good you don't notice the plot holes until later, and then you don't care. I saw it on youtube.com.

Fun comedy. A bit labored in parts, but enjoyable. Mischa Auer as a Russian chef who talks to his spirit guide and threatens at a crisis moment to return to his job at the Sara Goode Waffle Shop is a hoot. Constance Bennett is rather bland and forgettable, but it's fun to see Vincent Price six years before the classic "Laura". He looks much you would expect a young Vincent Price to look, but he sounds quite different. It's before he started doing the "Mid-Atlantic" accent that many actors affected in the 1930s and 1940s. Unfortunately, the great Helen Broderick isn't given enough to do in this film and the bland Constance Bennett is given too much.

Bad acting, bad writing, bad lighting, bad camera work, and lots of fake humping moments. Ugh! I think this is, perhaps, the worst film I've ever seen and that's saying a lot considering that I am a big Roddy McDowall fan which means that I have sat through a lot of schlock in my time waiting him to show up in the many, many bad movies he made during his later career. I wish McDowall had been in this film, at least I would have some excuse for having sat through it besides the fact that the dog was snoozing on my arm so I didn't like to disturb him by searching in the cushions of the couch for the remote control. Can you tell that I'm just typing away trying to get to the 10, (wait, spell it out, that's more characters) ten required lines for an IMDb review when I really said all I had to say about this film in the first two sentences of this review?

I love The Road to Hong Kong. It's my favorite Road picture. I don't know why so many people dislike it. So Bing and Bob are older than they used to be. Who isn't?

My favorite scene is the boys' Fly-It-Yourself scam. The "native pilot" is a no-show (can't blame him) so, of course, Bing bamboozles Bob into taking over and nearly getting himself killed. I love the bit of dialogue when Bing is helping Bob into his ridiculous flying gear. It goes something like:

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Bob: Why do I always have to do the dangerous stuff?

Bing: It's the nature of the relationship. Just like one of us is brawn and the other is flab.

Bob: Have you got a program? So far I don't recognize anyone.

Bing: Well, don't get sore at me. It's just a plot point.

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I've always been a Bing Crosby fan, but I've never thought he was particularly attractive. However, I think he's really quite cute in his silly love scene with Joan Collins. He could warble a love song at me, anytime.

Although I enjoyed the earlier Road films, The Road to Hong Kong is the only one I've bought on DVD. It was that good. I've watched it umpteen times and it always makes me laugh.

Oh, and yeah, and then there's Bob Hope's perfectly timed line after Robert Morley delivers an impassioned I'll-take-over-the-world-speech: "I think he rolls his own."

William Powell is, as always, wonderful. His acting is beautifully understated. I wish you could say the same for Henry Fonda and Jack Lemmon. Such overacting and theatrics. And they don't seem to know how to talk in a normal tone of voice. Perhaps they could have shut up for a few moments and listened to how William Powell does it. There are so many boo-boos and ridiculous set-ups in this film. For example, everyone gathers around to hear Mr. Roberts' letter to Pulver. But they continue to crouch around when he moves on to read a letter from his friend. Why would they care? Well, because the letter from the friend contains big dramatic news, so they have to be all clustered around so we can see them look shocked and grieved. So phony.

And Navy enlisted personnel who break into the colonial governor's mansion and damage property would not just be escorted back to their ship. That's just silly.

Christopher Plummer is always worth watching, so I sat through this whole production Not for the first time, I kept wishing that "On Golden Pond" was less of a glossed over, wishy-washy, happy-ending sort of show. Both the play and the film, and this version, too, gloss over the fact that Norman Thayer is truly a cruel person who was deliberately unkind to his daughter all her life. He seems to have been unkind, sarcastic, and verbally abusive to a great many people. I wouldn't want to be his daughter and I wouldn't want to be his wife. He's embittered and negative, and there seems to be no reason for his embitteredness as his life, as we are shown it, seems to have been a fortunate one. He and his wife appear to have no money troubles, he was successful in his career, his wife sticks by him and loves him -- what the he** is his problem? Every version of On Golden Pond presents Norman as a sort of curmudgeon, an old "poop." But he's not just an old curmudgeon. He's nasty. He hurt Chelsea. There's no reason to believe he won't continue to hurt Chelsea, even after their little confrontation/reconciliation. Consider how he refuses to tell her on the phone that he and Ethel will visit Chelsea and Bill in January? He later says it to the boy. But not to Chelsea. No, he's got to leave her hanging. He can't say they'll come. He can't give her that satisfaction or even allow her to plan. It's creepy.

I've never understood why On Golden Pond is considered a sweet, love story. I just don't get it.

This TV version is okay. Just okay. Plummer and Andrews turn in professional performances. They have chemistry together, that's obvious. Headly, playing the daughter, is less believable and seems nervous even when Norman isn't in the room. Sam Robards as Bill seems twitchy, too. The boy's role is downplayed in this version and he doesn't really get a chance to register. The set is excellent. There's some strikingly bad camera work here and there, more than I think is acceptable, even in a live production.

The best part of the whole production is the promo at the beginning when the camera zooms in on Plummer and Andrews in a private room. They're supposedly rehearsing, but are actually playing Go Fish. It was cute. If you listen, you can hear the difference between Plummer's actual, strong voice in that promo, and his strained, weaker voice as Norman.

I also love the bit when Plummer is on the phone with the boy, and says that Dumas, author of The Three Musketeers, is not pronounced Dumb-A**. Whenever I see Alexandre Dumas' name from now on, I'm going to think of that :-).

I enjoyed this movie. It's got all the right moves. Humor, drama, action scenes, unexpected twists, charming actors. There probably are holes in the story, but it's such a fun, fast-acting movie that I was too busy enjoying it to care. Christopher Plummer is the lead in this film, and he gets a chance to be more than charming. He's downright sexy. And then there's Yul Brynner in breeches and jack boots. Yowwwww! I had a good time watching this film. I have no idea if the uniforms, the planes, the story, or any of it, is accurate to the period. And I don't care. Christopher Plummer with his shirt undone. Demolition experts demonstrating how to detonate things with a mixture of sugar and saltpeter. The great Trevor Howard wearing the world's worst beard. Yul Brynner in jackboots. Just what a war movie ought to be. Triple Cross is available in a Region 2 DVD, but not, as of 1/21/12, in a Region 1. If it were available in Region 1 format, I would snap up a copy so I could watch it often. I hope Christopher Plummer's recent Golden Globe and possible Oscar nomination for "Beginners" might stimulate folks to put out more of his films on DVDs, especially on Region 1 DVDs.

I'm a big Adolphe Menjou family, but I didn't find this Never to Love/A Bill of Divorcement an interesting film. Everyone is so terribly overwrought and exaggerated. I lose interest in them. They don't seem like real people. I don't care anything about them. When blank-faced, monotone Herbert Marshall shows up as the lover and he seems to practically vibrate with suppressed emotion...well, I could barely watch the rest. I feel the same about the 1932 Katharine Hepburn/John Barrymore version, although, thankfully, Maureen O'Hara as the daughter does not have the awful, strident, harsh voice in this version that makes listening to the 1932 film so painful.

Okay, it's not the best show you'll ever see. The lead actress is mannered and phony. The supporting cast is pretty bad, especially the actress and the blue jean ad guy. The script is bland. However, I suggest you fast forward past all that to get to the Christopher Plummer scenes. As always, he turns in a solid performance. And he's very attractive in this film. Very. I mean very. Yum. Who cares about the supporting actor who is said to be so attractive in his blue jean ad. I didn't even notice him, except how bad his acting was. It was Christopher Plummer I noticed. I did a screen capture of him from the DVD and I have it as my desktop wallpaper. Yum.

There's one bit I liked in this film A Feather in Her Hat. Rathbone's character and his whiskey flask have spent the night on a park bench. In the morning, Pauline Lord wakes him up and, with barely a how-do-you-do, invites him back to her house with the enticement of a hooker of brandy. Rathbone's character, a drunken WWI vet traumatized by what he describes as "the shrieking of shells, and the bleeding of things," naturally says yes to her offer and links arms with her. He introduces himself and asks her name. He then asks "Miss or Mrs?" She says her husband is dead. Rathbone asks "The war?" Pauline Lord's character answers "Plumbing." Rathbone looks inquiringly at her and she explains "Someone hit him up the head with a lead pipe." It's a good bit of dialogue. Unfortunately, this exchange is the only good bit of dialogue in the film, which is mawkish, sappy, and full of unbelievable plot twists of which my favorite is that the quick sale of a corner newspaper/cigarettes-type shop not only finances an entire West End play production previously turned down by a bigwig as "too expensive." but it also buys a nearby rowhouse AND a house with land in the country. Still, it's always good to see Basil Rathbone. If I found him on a park bench I'd invite him home, too. I should buy a bottle of brandy and keep it in the cupboard in case I come across him in a park someday.

This 1929 version has all the tight pacing and wit that the 1937 film lacks. It also doesn't have the tacked-on moralizing ending that so blights the 1937 version. Basil Rathbone (so young!) is charming and funny with that hint of edge that he could do so well. The two-part scene in which he invites Norma Shearer for a little supper at his apartment and is then verbally rebuffed by the "butler," only to return to kiss the hem of Norma's garment is priceless. I watched it four times. Basil Rathbone is believable as an English lord in ways that Robert Montgomery in the 1937 version is so painfully not believable. George Barraud as Charles effaces himself effectively in the beginning scenes as the butler, and his scenes with Rathbone are not marred by the hint of effeminacy Montgomery brings to his fraternization scenes with the butler when that is not called for in the script. As much as I love William Powell, and I think he's the only reason to see the 1937 version, he can't manage to efface himself effectively in the beginning scenes as the butler. He's always William Powell. As enjoyable as Powell is, when you see George Barraud move from effacement to boldness, you really see how it should be done.

Yes, I agree with other reviewers that Hepburn is screechy and everyone talks too fast for believability. It's not a well-done production overall. But I've watched this show several times just to see Sam Waterston as the adult son. He is strikingly beautiful in this version of Glass Menagerie, and he conveys such an air of deep sadness. You can really see the young writer trapped in the box factory or the young man loaded down with the mother, sister, and only the memory of a father. You can almost smell the factory on him, and the discouragement. I find him mesmerizing. His performance reminds me of Dean Stockwell in Long Day's Journey Into Night.

I enjoyed Cast a Giant Shadow.

Like so many films of its type, it has the obligatory love angles that only slow the film down. Angie Dickinson and Senta Berger are much better actors than their silly parts allow them to be. When Dickinson's characters says to Douglas: "Don't hate me for loving you so much," I wanted to scream. Oh, wait, I think I did scream. After that silliness, I fast-forwarded through the rest of the "love" scenes. As a result, I have no idea what happened in the last scene between Douglas and Berger; somehow I'll still be able to sleep at night.

Another reviewer thinks the scene with John Wayne at the concentration camp is ridiculous and hard to believe. I actually thought it very believable and a remarkably directed and acted scene. Douglas's character has been there before. But Wayne as the general hasn't seen the camps first-hand and seems to think the stories have been exaggerated. Wayne and Douglas walk into the camp but the camera remains in a tight shot on them. So instead of showing us the scenes in the recently liberated camp, the camera shows us Wayne and Douglas's reactions to what they're seeing. It's only a short scene, but the few seconds of the look on Wayne's face register powerfully. It's subtle. He doesn't overplay it with a look of obvious horror, disgust, etc. Instead, there's a sort of confused, muffled pain in his eyes. John Wayne was a much better actor than he's usually given credit for. When Wayne turns to his right and goes over to lean on a fencepost with his head down (trying to compose himself? trying not to puke?), well, that was a powerful moment for me. There was something about seeing that tall, broad-shouldered man have to walk away, shut his eyes, and hang his head. I forgot it was John Wayne for a few minutes, and that's a big compliment to any star actor. I won't forget any part of that scene.

I agree with another reviewer. Douglas' part has too many wisecracks. It gets old. Still, there are some quite funny lines in this film, and not only spoken by Douglas. My favorite is when Douglas is telling the weapons- and manpower-strapped Haganah commander and the others that they have to attack, hit the enemy hard. And Yul Brynner deadpans: "With what? Noodle soup?" Cast a Giant Shadow is not the greatest film ever made, but it's an enjoyable one. Just fast forward through the romantic scenes and you'll be okay.

If you want to watch Christopher Plummer beat up and kill women, then this is the film for you.

There are a couple of interesting plot twists, but they can't make up for the lackluster acting of Elliott Gould and Susannah York. He's completely unbelievable as the clerk who is more devious than he seems to be--he's just walking through the role. And it's ridiculous that these gorgeous women would be falling all over him. Susannah York says she's unhappy with her life but you'd never know it from her flat affect and flat delivery. In fact, everyone in this film seems to be on Valium except Christopher Plummer's character, who should be force-fed large amounts of it. A nasty little film. I'm sorry I watched it.

The film itself has an interesting plot and is well-acted by most in the cast. Baker is enjoyable to watch, although I don't think this film lets you in on why Baker was considered so talented in her day. She does a sort of athletic Charleston and a couple of shimmies, but I didn't see what the fuss was about. Perhaps she was someone you needed to see live. Also, this is her debut film, so perhaps it is not a great showcase for her dancing talent. Still, the plot is followable, and Baker has some funny bits including pushing her way into a boat ticket line by using her fanny.

The musical accompaniment, new for this DVD, is excellent. If it were available on CD, I'd buy it.

There's some interesting extra footage in the Extras section on the DVD, but skip the so-called documentary with the dance experts. Instead of showing clips of what the talking heads are nattering on about, the camera focuses on the talking heads as if we care what they look like. Dull, dull, dull. And they're the kind of talking heads that refer to their subject by her first name as if they all knew her intimately.

I knew that Sex and the Single Girl was going to be one of those 1950s-1960s films that depict a woman with a professional career or a business as an incompetent, unfeminine woman who just needs to find a husband and give up this silly career idea. But I didn't know that Sex and the Single Girl was going to be such a lamely done, poorly acted example of such a film.

There are three things worth seeing in this film. The first is the great Edward Everett Horton as the fourth-generation publisher of STOP magazine. The bit where he congratulates his staff for turning the genteel magazine his great-grandmother founded into a sleazy, vulgar, highly profitable tabloid is a hoot. The second thing worth seeing also takes place at STOP headquarters. There's a running gag that shows that everything in the office has a coin meter attached, including the drinking fountain, the sink faucets, the mirrors and the paper towel dispensers in the men's room, etc. Also, during the much too long chase scene/slapstick silliness that is the last quarter of the film, munching on pretzels becomes a great running sight gag.

Otherwise, the film is bad. Henry Fonda and Lauren Bacall's supporting roles could have been delights, but their parts are poorly scripted and badly realized. The slapstick chase scene at the end goes on and on, flattening every laugh the situation might have generated.

Supporting players Marjorie Main, Alice Pierce and Keenan Wynn do their best, but the script is no help to them. I've heard Vera-Ellen described as a wonderful dancer, but she seems frozen and mechanical here. It would be nice if she changed the expression on her face once or twice during a movie. Vera-Ellen angry, Vera-Ellen concerned, Vera-Ellen in love...same difference. There are too many songs (or is it that they're such lame, forgettable songs?). The only reason to see this film is near the end when Astaire, in a white suit with trousers slightly too short in order to show off colored socks, dances on a sandy stage to "A Dancin' Man." That's worth the rental of the DVD right there.

Also, the DVD I watched had a clip of a discarded version of "Dancin' Man." It was interesting to see this much inferior take.

I enjoyed Adolph Menjou's performance in this film, and there's quite a bit of enjoyable, witty dialogue. But I found Hepburn's performance annoying. A certain amount of the affectedness in her performance is appropriate--she's playing a girl enamored with the "idea" of being a great star. But Hepburn is so over the top. And her awful screechy voice. The "drunk" scene when she does bits of Hamlet and Romeo & Juliet and so impresses the audience -- well, she's laughable. I'm amazed that she won Best Actress for this. Amazed.

As contrast to Hepburn's exaggerated performance, Fairbanks seems strangely subdued. And a subdued Fairbanks is just a fairly attractive face and not much else to him.

Adolph Menjou is sexy, worldly-wise, and off-handedly kind in this film. Unlike other reviewers here on IMDb.com, I can see why Hepburn's character falls for him. I would have, too. When you're feeling vulnerable, an attractive daddy figure can sweep you off your feet.

C. Aubrey Smith, as always, is charming. I also enjoy seeing his name in the credits. He did a million films, played the same role in almost all of them, and never turned in a bad performance.

For Heaven's Sake has a number of witty lines and an interesting premise. If you charted this movie you would see a dip into sentimentality every time Edmund Gwenn shows up. He's such a joke killer in this film. Luckily, he doesn't show up too often. Robert Cummings, never an outstanding presence, turns in a forgettable performance as the theatrical husband and the proximity of his mediocrity somehow manages to suck the life out of the wife, played by Joan Bennett who is usually better than she comes across here. Clifton Webb, sans mustache, is a hoot. In my favorite scene he plays bebop on the harp. It's worth sitting through the whole film just to see that scene.

The songs and much of the dialogue in My Fair Lady seem to have been recorded in a well. And none of the cast knows how to pretend to sing to the pre-recorded tracks. Marni Nixon's rich and wonderful voice does not seem to fit the skinny Audrey Hepburn, plus Hepburn does an exceptionally poor job of matching facial and body gestures to Nixon's singing. Overall, the film seems forced, phoney, and lacks humor. Scenes that should be raucous and funny are sad and painful to watch (see the mediocre delivery, poor lip syncing, and limp staging of "Get Me to the Church on Time"). It's quite conceivable that the vulnerable Eliza should mix up father, mentor and lover, and so fall in love with the older Professor Higgins. But Rex Harrison with his concave chest and paunch is unattractive, seems asexual, and appears to be about 200 years older than Hepburn, and any romantic feelings between the two of them are unbelievable. I recommend sticking with the Broadway cast album with Julie Andrews as Eliza. That cast has all the verve and vitality that the movie production of My Fair Lady lacks.

P.S. This movie also wastes the wonderful Mona Washbourne by focusing away from her during almost all of her screen time. That's some sort of sin.

Royal Bed is watchable, but only just. I think it was intended to be a farce, but it doesn't have the pacing or the wit necessary for good farce. It's a one-joke film that goes on much, much too long. None of the actors stands out, and many of them fade right into the woodwork. The set and set decoration are mediocre and lack the necessary pomp and circumstance for a film set in a palace. The costume designer succeeds in providing overblown and farcical costumes for the men (many with baggy jackets topping ridiculously tight pegleg trousers). However, the costume designer fails to provide the right farcical tone with the women's costumes. Astor wears a cute riding outfit complete with jodhpurs in the early part of the film, and then later a gorgeous wedding dress. The queen (who is supposed to be that stock character of farce--an interfering busybody) wears several wonderful outfits including a half-length fur stole over a classic walking dress, and a taffeta gown with a gloriously regal train. Overall, I give Royal Bed a 4 out of 10.

I have mixed feelings about The Last of Mrs. Cheyney. There is the wonderful performance by Jessie Ralph as the Duchess. There are charming bits and moments that are subtly humorous. But The Last of Mrs. Cheyney, given its cast and budget, should be better, snappier, wittier, more fun, more deliciously wicked and...it isn't. Instead of a showcase for a large cast of talented stars and supporting actors who each get his/her striking moments, the film just seems jammed and jumbled with characters. It's unbalanced. For instance, a film with two male leads needs to balance those two leads. In The Last of Mrs. Cheyney, there's too much Robert Montgomery and not enough William Powell. To continue on the subject of balance, there's no reason why any film shouldn't be enhanced by having the support of two well-known scene stealers, Frank Morgan and Nigel Bruce (think of the joys of both Edward Everett Horton and Eric Blore in the Fred and Ginger movies). But in The Last of Mrs. Cheyney Morgan and Bruce seem too much. Finally, the film is marred by a truly bad ending.

The essential plot is as old as the hills: Director wants to create art but in order to do so he must triumph over the crass money people. So there's really nothing new here. The lead actors give uneven performances and often descend into posturing and pathos, but the folks who play the backbone of the theater: Assistants, the dressers, the security guard, the bit actors, the stagehands, are all given opportunities to shine in small, but authentic roles. In fact, the supporting performances make this series. There are some witty lines, but the show veers strangely from drama to slapstick and back again. Several unpleasantly graphic sex scenes that are downright ugly seem patched into the show for the shock value. Overall, I would say that the series is okay, but not great. I fast-forwarded through a certain amount of it in order to get past the scenery-chewing.