Aeons before the likes of Michael, Jason, Freddy or even Norman there was Ursula Georgi (Myrna Loy).Thirteen Women is one of the earliest prototypes of the slasher film (made at a time when most horror movies featured supernatural creatures) in which the half-Hindu, half-Javanese Ursula (even though Georgi is a name of European origin) seeks revenge on her former high school peers due to their racist mistreatment through the use of horoscopes which don't predict a happy or successful future. Whether or not Loy actually enjoyed doing exotic roles such as this during her early career, she remains professional and doesn't phone it in. I delight at that stoic dialogue she delivers and when she gives you that blank stare you know you're done for, not to mention she goes through many a memorable costume change throughout the film's short runtime.
Throughout the picture Ursula has control over her victims, leading them to commit suicide. However, the film does not make it clear if she has supernatural mind control abilities ("I was his brain as I am yours") or simply can just manipulate her victims though psychological means as the film's opening prologue appears to imply:
"Suggestion is a very common occurrence in the life of every normal individual...
...waves of certain types of crime, waves of suicide are to be explained by the power of suggestion upon certain types of mind."
Pages 94 and 105 of Applied Psychology by Professors Hollingsworth and Hoffenberger, Columbia University.
The extent of the mistreatment towards Ursula is not made clear. In her final monologue at the film's climax, Ursula speaks of she tried to become white and it was almost in her hands when the sorority of girls wouldn't let her "cross the colour line", subsequently followed by the sorority's leader Laura Stanhope (Irene Dunne) acknowledging their cruel treatment. The film's racial subject matter was frank for the time - this was after all when screen star Merle Oberon was hiding her mixed-race origins from the public.
Thirteen Women is an oddity in the career of Irene Dunne, being her only macabre picture in a filmography of generally light-hearted fare. Laura is the only woman in the sorority who attempts not to act so gullible and take superstitions seriously (not to mention she has one fine Beverly Hills Home). Thirteen Women is an example of a female ensemble film yet oddly all the women in the picture are comprised of divorced and single mums - there are no husbands insight and even the one who is married shoots her hubby at the beginning of the film.
Thirteen Women doesn't disappoint with those to be expected pre-code shocker moments from the circus acrobat accident in the film's beginning to Ursula going as far as to send poisonous chocolate and later a bomb disguised as a birthday present to kill Laura's child. The film's atmosphere is also aided with an exotic score by Max Steiner (topped with plenty of gongs thrown in there for good measure) at a time when most movies seldomly used scored music. Steiner would go onto compose King Kong the following year at RKO and the rest is history.
Thirteen Women's biggest claim to fame is the film being the only on-screen appearance of the elusive Peg Entwistle, who committed suicide by hanging herself on the Hollywood sign, shortly before the Thirteen Women was released - ironically the only film she appeared in had suicide as a major theme. According to the book Peg Entwistle and the Hollywood Sign Suicide, Entwistle's role as Mrs Hazel Cousins was central to the first 22 minutes of the film in which she was involved in a lesbian love affair leading to the murder of her jealous husband. In the 59 minute cut of the film, Entwistle is only on screen for a few minutes in which during that time she locks arms with another woman (her love affair?) and later shoots her husband and then screams at what she has just done. Thirteen Women originally ran at 73 minutes however the likely watered-down 59-minute cut is the only version currently known to exist. Perhaps somewhere out there exists a 73 minute print of Thirteen Women, regardless of what we are left with is still an entertaining hour. Perhaps future cult classic status is still in the waiting for Thirteen Women.
Grand Prix may be the best Howard Hawks film he didn't make - a loosely plotted film following four Formula 1 drivers with the theme of male bonding. There is even a Hawksian woman in the form of Eva Marie Saint as Louise Frederickson in a role similar to that of Jean Arthur in Only Angels Have Wings, an onlooker who is taken back by this subculture and the reaction or lack thereof the drivers have to death and injury. The loosely plotted structure avoids the cliché of many sports films in which the drama hinges on whether or not the protagonist or team wins the final bout. Rather Grand Prix is an examination of these stoic modern gladiators and the women who come to reject their men's participation in the sport.
Grand Prix was John Frankenheimer's first picture in colour and while something is lost when compared to his earlier films which are some of the most visually astounding black & white films of the era, Grand Prix is one colourful and eye-popping film. Grand Prix is one of the best examples of a movie which offers such a vibrant slice of exotic, European flavor; complete with beautiful locations, gorgeous women, an exquisite score by Maurice Jarre and the full glitz and glamour of the sport. It plays like a not so cynical tourism commercial complete with early use of film product placement (the first of two Frankenheimer films to make use of the Good Year brand).
The 1960's, when every movie was over three hours long, complete with an overture, intermission and entr'acte. Filmed in Super Panavision for display on a Cinerama screen, Grand Prix was a movie designed for the theatrical experience with its astounding racing sequences - no further proof is required that Frankenheimer is one of the screen's greatest directors of action. During the film's three major race sequences there are no instances of cars being filmed slowly with footage sped up in post production as seen in many older films - no, this is the real deal. Grand Prix was filmed during the 1966 racing season with the actual actors in the film performing their own driving (bar Brian Bedford).
The location shots during the film's opening race at the Monaco Grand Prix are a thing of beauty to look at with the winding roads, palm trees and glorious architecture. Combine that with extensive use of shot types and transitions and you have an unforgettable feast for the senses. Right from the Saul Bass opening credits with the extreme use of close-ups and use of checkered frames to the fast-moving ariel footage, POVs, split-screen and quick cuts - Grand Prix is a marvel of editing. In relation to the sound design, just like the sound of galloping horses during the chariot race from Ben-Hur, the sound of Formula 1 engines ramps up the suspense without the aid of music - rather it creates a rhythm of its own. One race in Grand Prix is however scored by Jarre's music in a surprisingly relaxing and dreamlike montage of overlapping footage of F1 cars which the sounds of their engines subtly in the background. I wonder if Grand Prix played an influence on George Lucas for the pod race sequence in Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Well guess who was a young camera operator on Grand Prix back in 1966?
Among the glamour of Grand Prix, things do u-turn on several instances during the film's bloody and graphic injury scenes of various drivers, not to mention a very upsetting scene involving two young boys who should not have entered the race track as and when they did. With the comparable lack of safety back in 1966, one has to ask does this make the sport more exciting for both the drivers and spectators? There is even one scene in which James Garner is recklessly driving on a country road and no one in the car is wearing a seatbelt.
James Garner headlines Grand Prix as American racer Pete Aron, a bit of jackass but one who has a sympathetic streak to him. Toshiro Mifune makes his Hollywood debut as Japanese automobile magnet Izo Yamura. I've read many reviews complaining that Mifune's English dubbing is on par with a Godzilla film but I beg to ask what copy of the film are they watching? - I can't see any issue with the quality of the dub. Yves Montand however in the role of Jean-Pierre Sarti brings the highest level of gravitas from the film's cast. He questions his participation in the sport and has wanted to quit after witnessing many an accident ("Maybe to do something that brings you so close to the possibility of death and to survive it is to feel life and living so much more intensely"). In a sign of mutual respect and good sportsmanship, he even stops in the middle of a race when Pete Aron is trying to escape a burning vehicle. Montand's character appears to be a stereotype for French existential angst, a man wearied by the absurdity of his existence. This is backed up by the fact that his name is similar to that of French, existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre.
Grand Prix hits its emotional peak with the tragic ending in which Sarti's body comes flying out of a vehicle and only to lie mangled on a tree, all because he drove into a pipe which came loose from another vehicle. The irony of the character who contemplated most on retiring would see such a bloody end and not to mention the emotional breakdown in which Louise Frederickson screams at the press, while her hands are covered in Sarti's blood - it leaves much food for thought. Grand Prix is as much a tribute to Formula 1 as it is a reminder of how dangerous it once was - for better or worse.
Mulan is one of my favourite films in the Disney animated canon. A movie which is rich in layers and characterisation topped with brilliant songs and great action, there's barely a single minute that doesn't leave me enthralled. The titular heroine herself is a unique specimen in the canon of female Disney protagonists. For one she actually has living parents and contrary to the likes of Belle or Ariel, Mulan is not a free spirit. She is a clumsy, unpunctual, clutz, and a bit of a tomboy who doesn't fit the gender norms society would have expected of her at the time as she tries to find her place in the world. She is also an adult who still possesses some childlike tendencies, perhaps most memorably and heart-warmingly when she unexpectedly hugs the Emperor of China. Mulan is also under the Disney princess brand even though she has no royal lineage? - Money talks.
Mulan is one of many examples throughout history of women disguised as men in combat roles, albeit in the case of Hua Mulan being one of disputed historicity. For many western children, a film like this would be their first introduction to Chinese culture and history beyond what they would see in a Chinese takeaway. I'm not Chinese so I can't atone for well the film represents the culture. From a historical accuracy perspective, however, the film presents the Huns being a threat during the film's setting of 600AD (Tang Dynasty) when they were actually active several centuries prior to that. Likewise, fireworks and gun powder wouldn't come along until the 9th century (also Mulan's family owns a pet dog?). - Embrace it in a charmingly inaccurate Cecil B. DeMille way.
Mulan is a classic heroes' journey as she begins the film within the familiarity of her village but soon has a call to adventure into the unknown, only to eventually return to her village, a transformed individual. Disney films often being at the ire of snooty left-wing academics due to their highly archetypal nature rooted in the conventions of storytelling which are often dismissed as passé and cliché formulas of storytelling in favour of the deconstruction of myths. Thus I have no desire to see a live-action remake of Mulan in the age of woke Hollywood. In relation to the dreaded "F" word of feminism, I'll reference an unlikely source in the form of Knuckles the Echidna:
"You know Amy, any time someone brings attention to the breaking of gender roles, it ultimately undermines the concept of gender equality by implying that this is an exception and not the status quo."
Ok, Mulan is a film which is guilty of this itself with irony-laden songs such as Honour To Us All and A Girl Worth Fighting For which would normally lead one to groan with their intentionally un-pc lyrics and little visual accompaniments such as Mulan unintentionally wielding the umbrella like a sword during Honour To us All, but I'm never left with the impression the film is propagating an agenda. Mulan's journey was never some feminist quest to prove a woman can do anything a man can do and stick it to the patriarchy - rather it was to preserve her father's and by extension her family's honour. Mulan doesn't want to change how her society works, but rather just cheat its conformist rules.
Hollywood has a modern tendency to portray female characters whom are just women acting like aggressive men who can beat up hordes of bad guys and lack any sense of femininity. Mulan is not like that and film demonstrates her lack of physical strength and demonstrates how she has to rely on her mental capabilities to survive. Mulan figures out how to climb the pole and retrieve the arrow with the stone slabs of strength and discipline not with physical strength but with ingenuity, by wrapping the ropes attached to the slabs around the pole as an aid to climb it. Some suspension of disbelief is required that no one in the boot camp isn't more suspicious that Mulan's alias Ping is not a man, even as an effeminate one at that (one way the animators got around this is by having Mulan's face shape change when she is dressed as Ping). To use a symbol of ancient Chinese philosophy, Mulan's balancing of masculine and feminine is akin to the balancing of the yin and yang.
From the opening shot of The Great Wall, Mulan captures an epic scope on par with some of the best live-action epics. The colour scheme throughout the film is a thing of beauty complete with many a fantastic shot or creative transition. Mulan was the first time a Disney movie dealt with warfare with the sequence involving the soldiers discovering the village following a genocide (after such a joyous upbeat song) being one of the darkest Disney moments. Likewise, the beginning of the battle sequence on the mountain as Shan-Yu and his men appear over the hill is reminiscent to the film Zulu (that avalanche sequence breaks many laws of physics but no less exciting). The film's scope reaches a peak with the film's climactic money shot of Mulan jumping of the palace roof in the Forbidden City with fireworks behind her. The only criticism I have for the animation is the repetition of very similar character models in the Chinese and Hun armies as well as in the Forbidden City. Although the appearance of these models on screen is very limited it's a bit odd whenever I took notice of it.
Jerry Goldsmith's East Asian influenced score is among the strongest of his career. The track titled Haircut is a piece of synth to die for! How does a piece of music from 1998 sound like it was recorded for a movie made in 1985? None of the musical numbers in Mulan fail in their grand, sweeping nature. The film's classic Disney "I desire more" ballad in the form of Reflection (how did she wipe away all that makeup with on rub of her sleeve?) helps to signify Mulan's vulnerability. Yet Mulan's greatest musical accomplishment is the hair raising I'll Make a Man Out of You, the militaristic training montage ballad with its larger than life lyrics and memorable one-liners from the supporting characters - it can proudly stand among the likes of the Rocky IV soundtrack as motivational music to get you out of any rut.
The other area where Mulan surprisingly exceeds is the comedy as one of the funnier Disney animated films, managing to balance the laughs with the high stakes drama. Eddie Murphy as Mushu doesn't surpass Robin Williams in Aladdin but his antics and many memorable quotes give him one of his best career roles. However I find the film's funniest moments come from Mulan's attempts to act manly - it's not a body swap comedy without a scene in which the character's cover is almost blown when they are out of costume (underwear with hearts on it, anachronism much?). The only tonal criticism I would levy at the film is the end credits song True To Your Heart, an upbeat pop song which comes out of left field after Mulan's heartfelt reunion with her father and family. A good Stevie Wonder jam but it feels out of place.
The film's villain Shan-Yu is a two-dimensional bad guy but is still quite entertaining from how overtly evil he and his falcon companion are, with Shan-Yu himself being complete with fangs and muted colours. I also love how his scenes end with him delivering a spine chilling message ("How many men does it take to deliver a message?" - oh, badass!). He's not the main source of conflict in the film so his two-dimensional personality doesn't interfere with the film. However, he does display one revealing character moment during the film's climax in which upon discovering Mulan was the solider from the battlefield who took out his army, in an ironic twist he is the only character in the film who does not belittle Mulan for being a woman.
Mulan's world is populated with many great characters from the badass, no-nonsense general and love interest to Mulan, Li Shang (those abs are body goals) of whom it turns out is a bit socially awkward when it comes to women. Mulan's dignified father Fa Zhou on the other hand is best summed up in the powerful shot of his attempt to walk without his aid and disguise his limp to accept his conscription assignment. Although absent for most of the film, he is at the film's heart as the instigator of Mulan's journey ("I know my place! It is time you learned yours!"). The question does have to be raised if the military would actually have this old, physically weak man on the battlefield but rather to act as a general due to the fact that he appears to be a well-known figure at the boot camp and thus likely respected and held in high esteem. I do also adore the trio of soldiers - the fiery voiced Yao (thank you Harvey Feinstein), the childlike Ling and the pacifist Chein with their camaraderie and failure to act like tough guys and lady killers. Then there is the slimy pencil pusher Chi-Fu, the film's love to hate character. I like how he is given some humanising moments like his picture with the Emperor on his desk and his claim that he apparently has "a girl back home who's not like any other". Even The Emperor of China himself is full of wisdom and memorable quotations worthy of Confucius himself.
"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all"
Melsa Manton (Barbara Stanwyck) and her ilk of rich, bored socialites use Manhattan as their playground similarly to the wealthy socialites in My Man Godfrey, using the city for bizarre escapades such as sleuthing in the middle of the night and all while still dressing to impress at the same time in The Mad Miss Manton. Stanwyck's enthusiasm alone is infectious and the quick-fire interactions of the girls are one of the film's highlights ("I was never much of an individualist, if the upstairs has to be searched we search it together - why that's communism!"). They even partake in a number of Scooby-Doo like moments, in particular actions reminiscent of the character Shaggy, i.e. making a sandwich in the kitchen when sleuthing in a trespassed apartment. The other memorable addition to the cast is the sarcastic, wisecracking Hattie McDaniel who takes no nonsense from anyone and has a comeback to everything despite her socio-economic status ("Comes a revolution and we'll start being exploited by our help").
Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda - one true pair if there ever was one. Their chemistry makes it more believable that Peter Ames (Fonda) with his dorky bow tie would fall head over heels for this spoiled Park Avenue princess who is trying to sue him for a million dollars over an editorial. He is even driven to the point in which he casually imposes marriage on her. Henry Fonda isn't given enough credit for his comic abilities, in particular, the scene in which he fakes his own deathbed in order to extract information from Miss Manton. In one scene Fonda is even seen holding a knife, in the same manner he would years later in 12 Angry Men.
The Mad Miss Manton was one of many films throughout the 1930's which attempted to get a piece of that Thin Man pie. The formula of the 1934 comedy-mystery romp was an effective one and could easily be recreated with low budgets. It doesn't matter that the mystery in The Mad Miss Manton is incomprehensible. The comedy and the atmosphere are what makes the movie, of which the picture succeeds in creating with the high contrast, film noir-like lighting during the sleuthing sequences (especially with the sequence in the subway) even though the film is visibly a low budget production.
"I think I'll be a big help to your business" says Mary "Dwight" Strauber (Bette Davis) as she foreshadows to Johnny Vanning (Eduardo Ciannelli) the new owner of the clip joint known as Club Intimate. Mary is the alpha female with a mother instinct among her group of friends who all work as nightclub hostesses for Mr Vanning. None of them think highly of the work they do (but state it's still better and more profitable than working in a factory for 12 and a half per week) as they accompany male patrons until the early hours of the morning (also that piece of music which plays 18 minutes into the film during a montage in the nightclub, it sounds similar to Raymond Scott's Powerhouse). The theme of female solidarity runs throughout Marked Woman as the group console over the fear of getting old and are seen walking down the street in unison several times in the film. Mary also attempts to keep her sibling Betty (Jane Bryan) away from the gangster world and on track to a more respectable life. This plot element would be recycled in another Warner gangster picture from the same year, Kid Galahad and also involving the same cast member, Jane Bryan.
Marked Woman gave Humphrey Bogart an early career opportunity to play a hero during this pre-stardom period in his career (of when he could look oddly boyish) in which he was often cast as the villain. Bogart plays David Graham, the young, idealistic lawyer who "can't be bought" and like Elliot Ness and the Untouchables are determined to bring down the cities top crime boss. Despite the disclaimer, at the beginning of Marked Woman which asserts that the story is fictitious, Marked Woman is loosely based on the real-life crime-fighting exploits of Thomas E. Dewey, in particular, his conviction of New York crime boss Lucky Luciano (of whom Eduardo Ciannelli bears a resemblance to) via the testimony of numerous call girls in Luciano's prostitution rings. - I've said it before and I'll say it again, Hollywood makes being a lawyer look like one of the coolest professions ever.
Marked Woman is criminal justice 101. Everyone and their mother know Johnny Vanning commits every crime and murder in the city and they can't do anything about it without any witnesses to come forward and testify in court. Witnesses are either threatened or killed off, politicians are bought out and unscrupulous lawyers take advantage of every technicality in the law. A later Bogart film, The Enforcer (1951) explored similar subject manner but Marked Woman does it in a superior manner. Following the conviction of Vanning, Marked Woman concludes with the group of friends walking down the courthouse steps and into the mist, once again walking in unison as they did throughout the film. The lawyer gets all the praise and attention from the press whereas those who risked the most are forgotten about and walk into the night with no personal gain or future prospects.
The plot of Kid Galahad is routine fare in this gangster/sports picture but is executed with the top-notch craftsmanship. With Michael Curtiz directing (complete with one of his trademark shadows) and three cinematic icons carrying the picture, you know you're in safe hands. Kid Galahad is one of the better early attempts to capture boxing in a film, there's no sped-up footage although the fight scenes are quickly edited and the knockout during the titular character's first fight occurs off-screen. It wasn't until Gentleman Jim that cinematic boxing was filmed to a more realistic degree.
Edward G. Robinson and Humphrey Bogart would play foes a total of five times, with Bogart getting the short end of the stick in four out of five of these pictures. In these pairings Robinson would play the redemptive character while Bogart would be a plain old scumbag. There's a fun rivalry dynamic with the two as competing boxing managers but along with their other pairings, this is by no means a complex role for Bogart. His part as the not so threateningly named Turkey Morgan is a two-dimensional bad guy but with Bogart, it's no less engaging. Likewise, I much prefer this more endearing and playful Bette Davis to high end, sophisticated melodrama Bette Davis she would go onto to portray starting with Jezebel. I also have to ask where the studio trying to make a sex symbol out of Davis in this film? I can't recall another film in which she exposed this much skin.
Kid Galahad was made three years into the production code and it is interesting to consider how gangster films from this late 30's period would have differed had they been made a few years earlier. The aesthetics are much cleaner than if the movie had come out during the code but more significantly is the film's moral content. Although a gangster picture, Kid Galahad is somewhat of a Middle America morality tale. The film highlights a clear divide between the urban world of the mob and its lavish parties to the innocent and simple world of the countryside. Despite his path in life, Nick (Edward G. Robinson) tries to keep his sister ( a much more wholesome relationship than that featured in Scarface) and mother far away from gangsters (or mugs as he calls them) by housing his mother in the country and sending his sister away to a convent. Even the boy-scout bellhop turned prizefighter (Wayne Morris) desires to become a farmer when he leaves the prizefighting world behind. I suspect much of this stems an effort to disown the gangster lifestyle in favour of a more conservative one to fall in line with the production code.
The Black Watch marked John Ford's first venture into talking pictures and as expected with talkies from 1929, the film's dialogue is delivered at a snail's pace as one actor will wait over a second for the other to finish before they themselves start speaking, creating many long gaps in the dialogue and making the film's pace slower than it needs to be. This gives The Black Watch a disjointed feel while the film still uses title cards over establishing shots - a silent era holdover. Visually speaking, however, the production values do not let the film down with the craftsmanship to be expected from a John Ford picture. The sets and costumes are lush and there are plenty of grand and expressionistic visuals - ultimately the film succeeds in creating that sense of adventure.
The Black Watch is a loose adaptation of Talbot Mundy's novel The King of the Khyber Rifles. The Heart of Darkness style story sees Captain King (Victor MacLaglen) of the Black Watch, 3rd Battalion, Royal Regiment of Scotland ("the descendants of highland chieftains who rallied behind Wallace and conquered under Bruce") sent on a military mission during World War I to take out a cult leader in a territory not under British rule ahead of the northern frontier of British India near the Khyber Pass. The first portion of The Black Watch features a heavy emphasizes on military tradition with plenty of thundering bagpipe action to show off that sound technology, plus nothing beats some Auld Lyne Sang regardless of the movie. The Black Watch holds a number of parallels to the adventure film Gunga Din which was released 10 years later and also starring Victor MacLaglen in an Indian setting.
One of the main draws of The Black Watch is Myrna Loy in the spotlight role of Yasmani - Goddess to the natives ("others have been sent to take her out but never returned"). Observe the theatrical manner in which Loy moves her body alongside her hammed up pompous speech delivery, all while cloaked out in lavish costumes and surrounded in splendour and opulence. Yasmani claims to be a white woman descended from Alexander the Great, with Aryan blood running through her veins as she puts it. When she delivers a sermon in the cave of echoes she speaks of the prophecy that a woman of Alexander's line shall find a mate and are destined to rule these tribesmen.
The identity of the cult in the film is not made clear. The film gives many indications the cult are Islamic extremists (there is no mention of the words Muslim or Islam) from members praying to Allah to proclaiming the murder of infidels and even the appearance of a flag with the Islamic Star and Crescent. However, in Islam you wouldn't have a woman, let alone one of western origin at the head of a traditional Islamic movement. Likewise wouldn't referring to Yasmani as a Goddess not go against Islam's (and Abrahamic religions' as a whole) monotheism? Not to mention the cult's racial undertones raises many questions. I can't deceiver if The Black Watch is a poorly researched movie or was intentioned to be deliberately vague?
Madigan is my kind of cop movie. Everything about it feels so quintessentially classic. All the tropes are there from the officer who doesn't play by the book, police corruption, guys in suits who show off their identification, one-liners galore and all this aided by the aura of cool which film-noir icon Richard Widmark brings to the screen - plus is there a more cop name than Madigan?
Many of the men in Madigan wear suits and fedoras with this being the late 60's and the final days in which it was common for working men to do so; although there is a sense of New Hollywood creeping in with the film's villain appearing in that 1970's mould along with various snippets of once-taboo subject matter. Madigan is also one of the best uses of location in film; I haven't seen another film in which the grit and grime of the New York streets have been captured so vividly in this neo-realistic record of NYC in the late 1960's.
The opening credits of Madigan are a fantastic montage of New York in the early hours of the morning. This should come as no surprise as director Don Siegel had been a montage editor before becoming a director. I could happily have this movie playing in the background just to listen to the music as the score by Don Costa itself is one of the most underrated film scores I've heard; it's so motivating and makes you want to go and kick some ass.
Much of my appreciation of Madigan is due to the film's aesthetics. The film's main plot and many subplots are good if not entirely exception, primarily the tension between Henry Fonda as the commissioner who "likes the book" and spends his day at superficial social events to promote the image of the force and works from behind a desk versus the unethical Madigan trying the catch crooks on the street. Siegel would go on to do better in Dirty Harry three years later but dam does Madigan have some fine aesthetics.
The opening credits of Don Juan self proclaim the film to be "A Warner Brothers Classic of the Screen". Well this self-gratification didn't aid the film over time as Don Juan has gone down in history more so for its technical achievements over artistic merit, being the first film with a synchronized pre-recorded soundtrack with additional sound effects using the Vitaphone sound-on-disc system (likewise some film fans might recognize Don Juan for footage used in the opening credits of Start the Revolution Without Me from 1970). As a result, viewers can watch the film with the same soundtrack as heard by audiences back in 1926 - not a new score or modern re-recording of the original. The synchronized sound effects themselves don't add much to the film, nor are they well synced although this was new technology in 1926 so I can't blame them.
Don Juan is, however, a good swashbuckling romp in John Barrymore's attempt to out-Fairbanks Fairbanks. Barrymore is a magnificent figure of a man, pausing every now and then to let everyone get a good look at his iconic profile. Contrary to the likes of Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn, the titular character is less of an escapist fantasy but more of a tragedy in the classic tale of a man whose lust for women is his undoing; arousing from his own mother's infidelity and his father's response to such - there's more implied sex than you can shake a stick at. But this is still a romantic swashbuckler at the end of the day (reportedly with the highest kiss count in film history at a whopping 127), and the film ends with the most classic of romantic images, the man and woman riding off into the sunset, perhaps not as cliché or worn out in 1926?
In classic Cecil B DeMille style, Don Juan is a film of biblical morality but is never a preachy one at that. At the beginning of the film, Juan is courted by sultry women amongst displays of decadence when he is still a child. However in adulthood, Juan eventually comes to find redemption in Adriana della Varnese (Mary Astor) as the first woman he legitimately falls in love with and must rescue from the clutches of history's infamous, sadistic Borgia family. The wide-eyed Mary Astor is the face of innocence and virginal purity if there ever was one, as we even see her unconscious body laid down next to a statue of the Virgin Mary just to hammer the point home.
Among the film's supporting players includes Willard Louis as Juan's amusingly effeminate and theatrical attendant Pedrillo. It would make sense to have a gay attendant guide his many affairs when they arrive at Juan's residence and reassuring each one that she is "the love of his life". Don Juan also features Myrna Loy in one of her earliest screen appearances. There's no real meat to her role as Mai, Lady In Waiting as she part takes in background scheming, but it's great to see her at such an early stage in her career in a number of close-ups and lingering shots as well as many costume changes.
My one major downside to Don Juan is that I'm left wishing for more action, only getting some in the final 20 minutes with a sword duel and a Conte of Monte Cristo style prison escape. At least the film's money shot does not disappoint, Don Juan's dive on top of the stairs and onto his foe. It's filmed in one take with no editing trickery nor does a stunt double appear to be used.
Don Juan is an example of the excess and opulence present in many silent-era films from the grandiose sets to the never-ending wardrobe of costumes (even all the women still have contemporary 1920's makeup despite its 15th century setting). In the words of John Hammond - "We spared no expense". Watching these movies on a TV at home (or dare I say from a dodgy corner of the internet) really doesn't do them justice.
In my estimation, The Navigator is Buster Keaton's funniest film and the finest example of his use of physical space as he treats the film frame as his theatrical stage. Gags such as his "long walk" home or the intimidating painting of director Donald Crisp waving back and forth at the ship window are immaculately timed and staged. Or take my favourite gag in the picture in which Keaton is attacked by a swordfish while deep-sea diving and then proceeds to use it as a sword against another oncoming swordfish. It's such innocent humour and the obviously fake swordfish props plus the fact that he even goes to the effort of bringing down a "Men At Work" sign with him just makes it funnier - It's images like these which tickle my funny bone even thinking about it.
The Navigator was filmed on board the USAT Buford, a former warship which Keaton and his crew had free reign to use during the production of The Navigator, and take advantage of it they did, making the boat a character in itself. With rear projection yet to be a thing in 1924, all the nautical antics are filmed onboard the vessel.
The Navigator was one of the several films in which Keaton plays a spoiled, entitled brat who can't do anything for himself in the role of Rollo Treadway. After Rollo observes a happy, newlywed couple (in an early example of black casting in which race is irrelevant), he proposes to Betsy O'Brien (Kathryn McGuire) out of the blue only to be unsurprisingly turned down. A series of mishaps later finds the two alone at sea onboard The Navigator. Betsy is on an equal footing with Rollo, with her character also coming from the same, privileged, sheltered upbringing as Rollo, contributing to the survival of the helpless duo.
The cinematography in The Navigator is some of the finest in the Keaton filmography with its evocative lighting and some gorgeous shots. One such shot and one of the film's blink and you'll miss it gags, in the first scene which features Rollo and Betsy in their sailor costumes, notice how their shadows on the wall emanating from the candles they're holding creates a silhouette of Betsy giving Rollo a kiss on the cheek with his arms around her, even though they're not engaged in any such action. Likewise during the sequence in which Keaton and McGuire are running through the ship in parallel tandem, notice the smile on McGuire's face as she comes close to the camera. One the film's of odder gags however involves a gramophone playing Wilfred Green's Asleep In the Deep. With this being a silent movie, the lyrics appear on screen rather than being audible to the viewer in a gag which would have been better suited to a talkie.
When the seafaring duo approach the island of cannibals, it's the closest a Keaton film actually comes to being scary in a horror sense, with Noble Johnson playing the chief cannibal - always a striking screen presence. This encounter leads to one of the greatest and most suspenseful endings in film history - well in this viewer's most humble of opinions anyway. I don't know if it would work for me if I saw the film the first time now, as when I initially watched The Navigator I was naïve enough in my film-watching experience for it to take me by surprise - and I will never forget it.
As Hollywood was making its transition from silent pictures to talkies, 1929 is left as a year full of oddities and curios. The Squall is a 100% talking picture and is one of the more watchable talkies from 1929. While watching The Squall or any other talkie from 1929 one must take into account the movie was presumably filmed with a camera in a soundproof box. It's evident the actors in The Squall have been heavily coached by diction experts and instructed to say their line as clearly and enunciated as possible - a scenario which anyone who has watched Singin' In the Rain will be familiar with. Likewise, none of the actors turn their heads when speaking to avoid going off-mike nor at any point do any of the cast simultaneously walk and talk.
So while none of the performances in The Squall bar one certain screen siren are anything to write home about, the production values are surprisingly very high. The Squall was directed by famed Hungarian-British producer and director Alexander Korda. I can only speculate if the director's heritage is the reason why the film takes place in Hungary whereas the play the film is based on is set in Granada, Spain. The sets and costumes are very detailed in this upper, middle-class Hungarian farm from what I assume is around the turn of the century. Complete with grand windmills, herds of animals, farm equipment and some nice miniature work, the film succeeds in creating an atmosphere. Just as significant in an unusual move for films right up until the early 1930s, is the use of a music score throughout the entire picture, suitably a heightened and melodramatic one to accommodate the sound effects of blustering storms.
However, the real reason to watch The Squall and the film's saving grace is the one and only Myrna Loy in the overacting triumph of her long and varied career as the scruffy, barefooted gypsy girl Nubi. The gloriously, melodramatic performance sees this seductress manipulate three men in the same household as she tears the once idyllic Lajos family apart. Particularly pathetic is the son Paul (Carroll Nye), an utter simp who buys jewellery for Nubi from money he stole from his parents. I can watch Myrna Loy in just about anything thus I can easily buy into the destructive charm of Nubi as she over emotes in broken English and always referring to herself in the third person - even in one early scene as Nubi proclaims "no more!", it appears as if Myrna Loy is trying to hold back her laughter. The contrast to the vampish Myrna Loy is the purity and innocence of a wide-eyed Loretta Young as Irma, a mere 16 years old at the time.
It should come as no surprise for a film as melodramatic at The Squall to play big with its use of symbolism and metaphor. The film's opening shot features a Christian cross overlooking the farm and during a dinner the family has near the film's beginning, the grandfather states that squalls are the work of God that he "gives us shadows that we may know light. He gives us sorrow that we may know joy. And perhaps he sends the squall that we may learn the beauty of a limpid sky". Nubi, of whom arrives at the family home during the midst of a storm, takes advantage of the Christian principle of sheltering the poor and homeless only to wreak havoc - an evil spirit if there ever was one.
1929 would see Buster Keaton's last silent hurrah in the form of Spite Marriage, bringing to an end a decade of astonishing creativity for the great stone face - creativity that one would never be seen again.
Spite Marriage sees Keaton playing a character who is less naïve and more dumb. While this doesn't hurt the movie in any way you can see how Keaton's creative control was being watered down at the hands of MGM. Near the end of the film an insert shot of a newspaper article reveals the full name of Buster's character in Spite Marriage to be Elmer Gantry - why he shares the same name at the titular character from the famous Sinclair Lewis novel is unclear. The object of affection for Elmer in Spite Marriage is the mean and manipulative Trilby Drew (Dorothy Sebastian,) who has a role which is less passive than Keaton's other girls as she uses the dim-witted Elmer to her advantage. Keaton and Sebastian were reportedly having an affair at the time thus to question how genuine their on-screen interaction is.
The playhouse at the centre of the film's first half is putting on a Civil War lost cause melodrama, humorously complete with courageous, noble Confederate soldiers and overtly evil yanks. According to the DVD commentary, the play presented may be inspired by the 1895 play The Heart of Maryland by David Belasco. This assertion is also backed up by backdrops in the playhouse being printed with the words "Bosco Stock Company".
Spite Marriage is more Chaplinesque than Keaton during the film's first half from Elmer's poor attempt to apply makeup to the mayhem he causes on stage during the stage play. The film's most celebrated sequence is that of Elmer attempting to put knocked out Trilby to bed (good enough to inspire the film Roman Holiday some 24 years later). The sexy scene takes as much physical work on Dorothy Sebastian as it does Keaton, handling it like a pro as Keaton carries her like a ragdoll - I can only imagine how rehearsals for such a scene must have gone. Likewise, I feel the film's synchronized sound effects do enhance the comedy from the cartoonish sound of Keaton walking to the squeak when Keaton is about to cut his ear with scissors when attempting to apply the fake facial hair.
The film's second half is more familiar Keaton territory in a section which harkens back to The Navigator. Sadly Spite Marriage is disappointingly light on stunt work. It's clear MGM did not want to take risks on their contract star and the film commits the sin of having a stunt man take the place of Keaton. As a result Spite Marriage misses out on being top tier Keaton but the film is still a very pleasurable slice of comedy to bring film's silent era to a close.
The Best Man can be boiled down to one simple reality; politics is a phoney sham in which image matters over actual policy - I mean who knew right? The Best Man is a look at what goes on behind closed doors away from the pomp and flair of the convention arena. This stands in ironic comparison to the dignified slideshow of all then 36 US presidents over the opening credits.
The Best Man is a film which doesn't hold much appeal beyond the politics geeks like myself, although does offer a lot of insight to sink your political teeth into. Writer Gore Vidal clearly knew his political insight and this really comes through in the writing. Every other line of dialogue brings up thought-provoking talking points of political insight ("No girls in the white house" - did Vidal know something about JFK?) as two presidential candidates fight for the endorsement of a former president (Lee Tracy) in this dirty game of chess.
No party is mentioned in the film although it is more than likely the party featured are the Democrats due Vidal's ties to the party and with the play in which the film was based on being widely recognised as a parallel to the 1960 Democratic convention. Another hint this is the Democratic Party is the southern influence present at the convention (Democrats still dominated the south in the 1960s) from the brief shot of a woman in the convention waving a confederate flag to the former President positively referencing the confederacy.
Joe Cantwell (Cliff Robertson) is a more conservative democrat running on an anti-communist platform from the days when conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans existed. The man wants to lower taxes, increase military spending and is for state's rights. Reportedly the ethically dubious and ruthless character was based on Richard Nixon - he even goes as far blackmailing the former president for the endorsement.
The liberal counterpoint to the conservative and strong-minded Cantwell is the liberal William Russell (Henry Fonda); a candidate tainted by extramarital affairs, a nervous breakdown and a demonstrated inability to take decisive action. It is even hinted that Russell may be an atheist based upon his comment regarding human's animal descent only for one of his advisors to state, "No mention of Darwin, before The Garden of Eden was the world". The Best Man does offer some comic relief however in the form of Ann Southern as Mrs Gamage, a loud-mouthed, feminist type, pestering Russell that he doesn't appeal to the female vote.
Eventually, Russell, against his will blackmails Cantwell with info outing him as a homosexual. The word homosexual is not used as first but it's more than apparent that's the accusation levelled against Cantwell ("What we called when I was a boy, a degenerate"). The film does, however, drop the word homosexual later on, surely one of the earliest films to do so. The Best Man was itself released on an election year and one of several political movies to be essential viewing for anyone running who is for office.
Hey There Blimpy Boy, Flying Through The Sky So Fancy-Free!
Black Sunday is another addition to the "They couldn't make that nowadays club". Unsurprisingly in a post 9/11 world, no studio would want to touch a film about a terrorist attack at the Super Bowl, nor would any company or brand want to be associated with it. Yet in 1977, a mainstream film was released about such an attack with cooperation from the National Football League and the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company - now I can't look at a Good Year blimp and not think of Black Sunday. Likewise looking at the film from a political point of view, it's highly unlikely modern, left-wing Hollywood would make a film which is pro-Zionist and features Palestinians as terrorists. The terror group in Black Sunday is the real-life Black September of whom were behind the 1972 Munich Massacre - this was the basis for the inspiration behind Black Sunday.
Black Sunday was one of several high profile underperformers to be released in 1977 including Sorcerer, Cross of Iron, New York, New York and Twilight's Last Gleaming. These films may be able to attribute their lack of success at least in part due to the release of Star Wars. Although Black Sunday's timing was also compromised by another film about terrorism at a football game which was released months earlier in the form of Two Minute Warning starring Charlton Heston - a poor man's version of Black Sunday. As of writing this review in 2020, Black Sunday can be viewed in high definition online but has yet to receive a Blu-ray release in any region. I can only speculate if corporate or political reasoning has any part to play in this.
Black Sunday is led by a trio of performers at the top of their game. Marthe Keller has a sinister presence as Black September member Dahlia Iyad. The Arab Mata Hari is no more unsettling than during the sequence in a hospital in which she disguises herself as a nurse to poison Israeli agent David Kabakov (Robert Shaw) in this very Terminator-like scenario. Dahlia is married to the mentally unhinged, Vietnam veteran and former prisoner of war, Michael Lander (Bruce Dern). Lander is s divorcee who doesn't get to see his children; the background behind Michael and Dahlia's relationship is never revealed but is fascinating on the surface. There appears to be legitimate heartfelt feeling towards the two yet their bond is ultimately over ideology. Michael romanticizes himself and his wife's martyrdom and in one scene basks in sheer euphoria with her after they have a successful weapons test which kills an innocent bystander - a disturbing look into the mind of a terrorist.
Through Michael, Black Sunday also comments on the treatment of Vietnam veterans back home. In one scene Michael is not treated with respect by the rude receptionist at the Veterans Administration Hospital and made to wait amongst a crowded waiting area before seeing a psychiatrist. Yet during the film, he is still seen wearing his military uniform and taking pride in the medals he earned even though he plans to commit terror against the United States. When he flies the blimp prior to the execution of the terror plot, you can see the pain on his face as the Star-Spangled Banner is sung at the stadium.
Rounding out this trio is Robert Shaw as the total mad lad Major David Kabakov - an Israeli counter-terrorist agent and all-round unethical badass. A Dirty Harry type who play by the FBI's rules ("In your own operational circle in Israel, I understand behind your own back they call you The Final Solution. A man who takes things to their ultimate conclusion and beyond "). At the beginning of Black Sunday, Kabakov had the opportunity to kill Dahlia but allows her to live. Why doesn't he kill Dahlia when he had the chance just 15 minutes into the movie? Well aside from the fact that the movie would have ended, Kabakov comes to regret this action and reject the notion of seeing both sides of the question ("The trouble is, Dave, you've come to see both sides of the question"). Also notice that he has a concentration camp tattoo on his arm which can be seen as he sits in the hospital bed - Kabakov being a Holocaust survivor goes unmentioned throughout the film.
The Long Beach boat chase and the Miami chase sequence are an appetizer to what comes later (despite some dubious sped up shots during the boat chase). Once the film reaches its final act on the Super Bowl date of January 9th, the final 40 minutes of Black Sunday is some of the most exhilarating action I've ever seen in a movie. Featuring chases on foot, car and then by helicopter, the phrase "Edge of your seat" doesn't do it justice. The film's advertising including the poser and the trailer (which is classic trailer fashion summarizes the entire plot of the film) focuses on the end of the film as the blimp reaches the audience at the football stadium, leaving the viewer to wonder how we get to that point and what happens next? The film never actually outlines the planned terror plot until we actually see it in action.
So how did the studio receive permission from Good Year to use their blimps and logo in the film? Director John Frankenheimer had already established good relationship with Good Year head Robert Lane as a result of working with the company in Frankenheimer's previous film Grand Prix (1966). Lane granted Frankenheimer use of Goodyear's blimps on four conditions: the film had to make clear that the villainous pilot did not work directly for Goodyear, but for a contractor; the final explosion could not come out of the word Goodyear on the blimp's side as well as the blimp itself not being part of any violence, for example, nobody was to be churned up in its propellers. Lastly, the Good Year logo could not appear on the film's poster or on any other such marketing materials, hence why the poster and home video releases the blimp simply has the words "Super Bowl" imprinted on its side.
The grand spectacle of a finale during the Super Bowl X on January 18th, 1976 at the Miami Orange Bowl with the production returning to the same location film additional scenes on January 29th (I wonder how people present reacted to seeing Robert Shaw running about like a madman?). You get a real incoming sense of dread as the large crowds congregate and people are having a good time amongst the appearance of NFL players, coaches, sports announcers and CBS news crews. Likewise, the President who appears at the Super Bowl in two brief shots resembles then POTUS Jimmy Carter. Carter was sworn into office on January 20th 1977, which means the earliest date if the movie's timeline would be late 1977 to early 1978 at the earliest (the film indicates it takes place after January 1974). If the film takes place during the 1977 Superbowl then the President should resemble Gerald Ford during his last days in office but it's only politics geeks like myself who get caught up over this sort of thing.
The score by John Williams is not one of his standout works as there's no incentive to listen to it after watching the film, although it does succeed in creating suspense and you can hear shades of Star Wars from time to time. Likewise, the editing holds onto certain shots for just long enough not to notice imperfections in the special effects. My only minor criticism would be the very cheesy explosion shot once the blimp finally explodes.
Watching Black Sunday for the first time I was legitimately wondering if the blimp and its attached weapon would cause mass death and destruction and if Kabakov would live or will we get a Hollywood ending in which the day is saved - in the end, we get a bit of both. It's clear some people are injured and killed once the blimp reaches the stadium but Kabakov being the chad he is, gets that thing away from the crowd and to a safe distance which it explodes, in a manner in which I can't help but notice parallels the climax of The Dark Knight Rises. Some films once they end leave you that exhilarated, you're dying to just tell someone about it - Black Sunday is one such film.
The Manchurian Candidate is one of few films to really portray communism as a sinister force, compared to many other films which even if they don't portray communism in a favourable light, they fail to go the whole hog. In the director's commentary for The Manchurian Candidate, director John Frankenheimer states the film is a response to Joseph McCarthy but goes into no details regarding this or any of the political themes present in the film but rather talking about the technical aspects of the film. With all due respect to the highly talented director, this leads me to believe he is not fully aware or interested in the thematic significance of this film he directed.
From one angle it appears The Manchurian Candidate, whether intentionally or not is a validation of McCarthy and the Hollywood blacklist. The Manchurian Candidate shows communism infiltrating the higher echelons of US society, all the way up to brainwashing a candidate for the US Presidency and his wife while at the same time making anti-communists look like a bunch of paranoid loons. However, one of the major characters in the film, Senator Johnny Iselin (James Gregory) is a cartoon-like version of Joseph McCarthy - a puppet of his wife Eleanor Iselin Is of whom is secretly a communist infiltrator (as revealed in a twist near the film's end) passing as a rabid anti-communist. Not the brightest tool in the shed, Senator Iselin keeps giving the media different numbers on how many communists are in the Defence Department and eventually settles on 57 - being the only number he can remember in a clever reference to Heinz tomato ketchup. At the end of the day, it appears The Manchurian Candidate is trying to have its cake and eat it too in taking down both communism and McCarthyism all at once.
Well in the interest of advancing an agenda one is hamstrung by the fact that the communists in the film are using methods which are science fiction as brainwashing (mind control) does not actually exist in the real world. As Jon Mixon of Slate sums it up:
There is no scientific proof that brainwashing (a theoretical form of mind control) exists or is even possible. The term itself is no longer used by mental health professionals (well, reputable professionals, that is), and no peer-reviewed experiments or studies have been done that demonstrate that it is even possible.
Terrorist groups, cults, religions, and others seeking to influence people often look for those experiencing personal or professional setbacks and offer them sources of comfort, financial or moral support, or (at first) a nonjudgmental audience that will listen to their problems. As the person grows closer to the group, he becomes aware that to remain in the group he has to align his public statements, words, and actions with those of group. If he doesn't, then he is ostracized from the group or increased pressure is placed upon him to do so.
Many people don't do this and leave the group entirely. Some remain with the group and mimic the necessary public displays, words, and actions but don't really believe the group's core message. A relatively small number of people do believe the message, and they make up the backbone of the organization. They aren't "brainwashed"-they simply chose to believe that the group meets most or all of their wants and needs.
Protagonist Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey) does not fall under that category but really is an individual who's mind has been put under the control of others, making The Manchurian Candidate is a borderline science fiction movie. That said, if brainwashing was real is there any reason to believe The Soviet Union of Mao's China would have not taken advantage of it? You can decide.
It's Angela Lansbury who steals the show as quintessential highly controlling, domineering mother Eleanor Iselin, who has a tendency to call anyone she disagrees with a communist, even when they are a Republican (rings a bell in the modern-day culture war). The movie doesn't state if the Iselin's are Republicans or Democrats. The regular appearance of bust and portraits of Abraham Lincoln in their home as well as people (including Mr Iselin) dressed as Honest Abe at their party may hint to them being Republicans. However, there did exist a conservative, anti-communist wing of the Democratic Party back then so their party allegiance could go either way.
Laurence Harvey is an actor with a real dignified aura to him (and in comparison to Sinatra, it's clear who the superior actor is). Raymond Shaw is real a snob and sour puss, "not loveable" as he memorably describes himself. He even almost turns into Alan Rickman in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves when becoming drunk and ranting about Christmas with his mid-Atlantic accent. Likewise, I feel the casting of Janet Leigh as Sinatra's love interest Eugénie Rose Chaney to be a determent to the film, not out of any wrongdoing by the actress, but for a minor part which only has a small bearing on the plot, having a major actress cast in the part comes off a waste. Angela Lansbury and even the portly, comic-looking John McGiver play roles of far greater significance yet are billed lower - an unknown actress would have been better suited to the role. The Manchurian Candidate is also one of the earliest films to feature black actors in which their race has no bearing on the plot with the desegregated military present in the film and James Edwards in the small but memorable role of Cpl. Allen Melvin.
Frankenheimer directed some of the most visually striking black & white films ever made with Lionel Lindon providing the cinematography for The Manchurian Candidate. Those dreams sequences are a master class in editing and set design (not to mention the unease that comes from having a gun directly pointed at the audience). Also observe how the murder of Mr Gaines (Lloyd Corrigan), is very similar to the murder of Eldon Tyrell in Blade Runner. The scenes from both movies take place at night in the victim's bedroom as they are lying in bed reading. Both are wearing a robe, have a chessboard, statues of animals and candles next to their beds and both are about to be murdered. I can only guess this scene really stood out for Ridley Scott.
The Manchurian Candidate is fascinating if imperfect political thriller. One has to suspend their disbelief when watching the film, no more so than when Shaw just happens to be in a bar when the bartender in a conversation with patrons just happens to say the trigger phrase "play a little solitaire" - a remarkable coincidence to say the least. The film's climax is the blueprint for the political, conspiracy thriller in which a sniper plans to take out a candidate in a convention arena amongst all the electioneering apparel and giant posters and the candidates, and all this one year before the untimely demise of JFK.
The Conversation revolves around just that, a conversation between a man and a woman which is secretly recorded in San Francisco's Union Square by Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) and his team as a paid job for a private interest. Watching The Conversation decades after the fact, it's surprising to see that such long-range microphones which can record conversations from afar and even in crowded places existed, let alone were commercially available in 1974, while it's also of great interest to watch the process depicted in the film of editing together the audio from different sources without the aid of a computer screen. It goes without saying that in a post 9/11, post Edward Snowden world, The Conversation is more scarily relevant than ever.
Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) is the personification of a paranoid man in one of the most effective portrays of a crisis of conscience in film. If you're in the business of spying on people, it's difficult to believe people are not spying on you, even to the point that the man can't even bear one of his neighbours delivering him a present on his birthday. Unlike an Edward Snowden, Harry Caul does not work for the government but the movie hints that he has been hired by them before. Harry's assistant Stan (John Cazale) even speculates the tapes Harry is editing could be for the Justice Department or the Internal Revenue. However, the most "out there" moment in the film comes when Harry's associate Bernie (Allen Garfield) states: "Twelve years ago, I recorded every phone call made by the presidential nominee of a major political party...I'm not saying I elected the President of the United States, but you can draw your own conclusions." Francis Ford Coppola had been writing The Conversation since the late 1960's however it's not determined whether the Watergate scandal had any influence on the film's development, but you can draw your own conclusions.
Perhaps the most unsettling section in The Conversation is the surveillance convention - a convention where the subterranean world of wiretappers come together to showcase their Orwellian recording technology with the pomp and flair expected of any business expo. As Martin Stett (a certain young Harrison Ford) sinisterly sums it up, "It's a convention of wiretappers, ah excuse me, surveillance and security technicians".
Ah yes, let's talk about the young Harrison Ford in the supporting role of Martin Stett. Perhaps I may be biased being a huge Harrison Ford fan but he leaves a huge impression in this small but significant part in which he does have a surprising amount of screen time for this early stage in his career. According to Coppola on the director's commentary track, the character was Ford's own creation. Originally no more than a cameo, the character's role was expanded as much as possible when Ford fleshed it out, turning the character into an implied homosexual with his campy checkered tie and sweater, in an implied relationship with the company director played by Robert Duvall. Martin Stett is like a predecessor to the 1980's yuppie and is one scary looking dude when he lingers in the background - even his voice over the phone is unsettling. I'm unable to discover whether or not more footage of Ford ended up on the cutting room floor. However included on the Blu-ray release of The Conversation is an early screen test from 1972 in which a young and dashing Ford plays the role of Mark, which a part which would eventually be portrayed by Frederic Forrest.
Being a film about sound itself, The Conversation couldn't be a more ideal match for the editing and sound design talents of the great Walter Murch. Like his work in Apocalypse Now, the sound effects are as memorable as the music, particularly that audio distortion noise that repeats during the film's titular conversation. Likewise, the eerie, ragtime-esque music score courtesy of David Shire shows what you can do with just a piano - the ideal accompaniment to the gritty 70's look amongst the film's oppressive yet striking architecture and a slightly drab-looking winter San Francisco (The Conversation is one of those film's set during Christmas which has no bearing on the holiday). Even the camera acts as an eavesdropper with the film's use of voyeuristic shots.
"We know that you know, Mr. Caul. For your own sake, don't get involved any further. We'll be listening to you."
The Last Flight is one of the more unique movies to come out of 1930's Hollywood (possibly in part due to the film being directed by German newcomer to Hollywood, William Dieterle). It didn't hold my attention on first viewing with its surprising plotless structure but the odd nature of the movie made me want to give it another try. The Hemingway like Lost Generation film follows a group of Great War veterans leading a shallow and hopeless existence as they spend their nights drinking and partying in Paris while making no attempt to properly readjust to civilian life ("Well there they go, out to face life, and their whole training was in preparation for death") - A tale which would be repeated throughout cinema with various wars.
The film is entirely driven by the rapport between the characters and the listlessness that covers their lives. Along the way, they met a metaphorical representation of their damaged states in the form of Niki (Helen Chandler). The first scene with this character really confused me on first viewing as it sounds like she's saying she is holding a man's "tea" rather than his "teeth". Why the men would get so excited over this? It's not clear if Nikki is a ditsy dame, constantly inebriated or just nuts. She doesn't mind just standing and holding the teeth of a stranger who wants to go out back and fight and even keeps turtles in a hotel bathroom.
I do love the exquisite Paris nightlife circa 1919 as presented in the film with the suits and the drinks, you really get a sense of the all the good (if pathetic on a deeper level) times they have (even if it's never explained how they fund their drinking adventures). Allow me to express my inner grumpy old man when compared to modern nightlife.
Richard Barthelmess gave some of the most memorable performances of the pre-code era, having the ability to convey the look of a damaged man as seen in the role of Cary Lockwood, the most sensible one of the ecliptic group. Likewise, there's also Frink (Walter Byron) and his sexual misconduct ("He is a member of the wandering hands society and has a grouping good time"), in which the men are shockingly tolerant of his behaviour as they call him out and criticise his actions but never expelling him from the group. Even after an attempted rape on a train the men only tell him to apologise and to never get out of line again.
The Last Flight reuses footage at the beginning from Barthelmess' previous war film, The Dawn Patrol; both are based on stories from John Monk Sanders and make for a great double feature. - The Last Flight is a film for a patient viewer but one which holds many nihilistic rewards.
Teacher's Pet showcases that even by the late 1950s, Clark Gable still had a gift for comedy. His timing, facial gestures and body movements are all spot on (likewise the cartoon drawing of Gable in the opening credits is the spitting image of Gomez Adams). It's clear by this stage in his life Hollywood had gotten the better of him and he wasn't the sex symbol he once was but the animal magnetism is still there (despite what appears to have a missing tooth or a large gap between his teeth). Teacher's Pet is one of the few worthwhile endeavors of Gable's later days in which he plays working-class hero Jim Gannon; editor for a large city newspaper. Gannon is a man who never went to high school and has a dislike of colleges (says he can't even stand the smell of chalk) and a distrust of intellectuals. Gannon believes the only way to be trained for the world of journalism is through practical, hands-on experience and not in the classroom.
In the late 1950s, the majority of American newspapers still employed old school journalists and editors. However, a new post-war idea sprang up to help professionalize the news industry (among other fields) by requiring would-be journalists to get a university diploma in order to get hired as a news reporter; a field which had been traditionally more working class. This conflict between these differing world views is at the heart of Teacher's Pet in which Gannon pretends to be a newcomer to the profession in the journalism class of Dr. Erica Stone (Doris Day).
Stone is a representation of what we would now identify as the typical university-educated liberal with her butch haircut and concern for social issues ("Was it because he's the member of a minority group, struggling to solve the complex problem of assimilation? Did society at large create the climate for this tragedy?). She doesn't look highly upon Gannon's breed of journalist, describing them as the "unpressed gentlemen of the press", and a dying race. Teacher's Pet certainly saw the writing on the wall, as today journalism is seen as a profession of the university-educated class. It appears the movie is going to take a corny best of both world's view for its conclusion until Jim decides at the end that he can't change his perspective.
Part of what makes Teacher's Pet entertaining is Jim's epic, what we would refer to in the early 21st century as trolling in which Jim pretends to be a journalism newcomer to show Dr. Stone and her class to show "what a phony-baloney the whole thing is" (and yes this guy must have a lot of free time outside of work). He acts a pathetic nuisance to the class, only to then write an article to Dr. Stone's amazement which includes the key ingredients of any news story; who, what, where, when and why?
The cast of Teacher's Pet also includes Mamie Van Doran as a second rate Marilyn Monroe. She primarily starred in juvenile delinquency B movies in the late 1950s and even sings a number in Teacher's Pet which reflects this. Likewise, the always memorable Charles Lane plays a member of Jim's staff roll at the paper, portraying less of a sourpuss this time round. Many viewers appear to comment that Gable is too old to be a journalism prodigy, however, I believe his old age is central to the character; just like how Gannon represents a different age of journalism, Gable represents a different age of Hollywood to that of Doris Day. The first half of Teacher's Pet moves along at a brisk pace, although I find the film's second half doesn't flow quite as good, particularly when it pulls the dreaded lair revealed cliché. It slows down proceedings, leaving Teacher's Pet a good if not quite great comic outing, but a prophetic one at that.
SEX! Now That I Have Your Attention, Read My Review
The Seven Year Itch is often dismissed as a lesser Billy Wilder effort yet the film is far more than just the iconic image of Marilyn Monroe's skirt blowing up over a subway (an image which doesn't even appear in the film). There's always an ongoing debate over just how talented certain stars are who were better known for their status as icons rather than their acting ability (Greta Garbo, John Wayne, Arnold Schwarzenegger and yes, Marilyn Monroe). The Seven Year Itch is the ideal showcase for how gifted a comedienne Monroe was while also having the allure of the likes of Harlow or Garbo.
The Seven Year Itch is surely the most entertaining on-screen representation of repressed sexual urges. I'm sure many men can relate to Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) regardless of their age and the male fantasy of being alone with Marilyn Monroe. In one scene the movie displays a classic case of expectation vs reality in which Sherman imagines a melodramatic scene in which himself and a sultry Monroe wearing a tiger dress play classical music on a piano. This is soon followed by reality in which the two un-romantically play chopsticks on the piano.
Tom Ewell spends much of the film interacting with himself. His self monologuing is entertaining listening and helps carry the film in a part which could come off as creepy but Ewell avoids it from doing so - Ewell is charismatically dull if that makes sense. It's a shame Ewell never had more notable roles, he would have fit right at home in comedies which would have starred the likes Jack Lemmon or Walter Matthau (of whom originally screen-tested for Ewell's role).
Movies like this with a summery feel are great viewing any time of the year, to go along with the summer mood or the enlighten the dull winter, especially with the sultry music score courtesy of Alfred Newman. The Seven Year Itch also sees the advent of the intricate title sequence (by none other than Saul Bass), a step up from a stationary title of the movie and a list of cast names which had been seen in cinema up until that point. There is even a scene early in the film in which Sherman goes to a vegetarian restaurant, orders soy food and a waitress rants about how "if there was no clothes there would be no sickness and no war" - crazy leftists circa 1955.
The Seven Year Itch was limited by the Hays Code yet it's still interesting to see how far they could go within these confines with lines such as "when it's hot like this I keep my undies in the icebox". At the end of the day you can censor and restrict all you want but you can't stop someone from exuding natural sexuality. I'm sure moralists were outraged at the time yet the story is about a man overcoming his adulterous urges, avoiding temptation and remaining faithful to his wife, refusing to become a summer bachelor while his wife and son are away for the season.
So it's about time I finally got around to reviewing the big cheese itself, the towering achievement of American cinema, those four glorious syllables - Gone With The Wind.
Gone With the Wind testament to how much filmmaking had changed in just 10 years from the beginning to the talkie period. From the astounding cinematic shots such as the long take of the bodies of fallen soldiers lying in the streets of Atlanta to those red Technicolor skies which I could stare at all day and huge matte paintings which are hard to distinguish from real sets - it's a world to get lost in (I can even ignore the very clear continuity error at the beginning of the film when it goes from dusk back to early evening to dusk again). Even those opening titles themselves are breathtaking, let alone for a time when opening titles where a basic on-screen title card.
Gone With the Wind is a film with a fascinating history as it's backdrop. The pink elephant in the room however for many modern viewers is the troublesome historical image of the American South both pre and post-antebellum, whether just or unjust. The emphasis on the Wilkes family marrying their cousins doesn't help things but the real but the real point of contention is the dreaded "R" word, racism. To dismiss Gone With the Wind as a racist film is such a reductive argument, especially when certain commentators liken it to The Birth of a Nation, a film which shows black members of the House of Representatives eating fried chicken. To actually watch Gone With the Wind and study it closely, the way the film examines the racial issues is more 3 dimensional than popular critique contends.
Gone With the Wind is told from the point of view of slave owners who don't see anything wrong with owning slaves (nor is it ever made clear if the plantation owners start paying their former slaves following the end of the war). The slave owners are a product of their time which the movie doesn't pass judgment on. Only one line of dialogue in the film deals with the question of morality when it comes to slavery in which Ashley responds to Scarlett's use of prisoners for labour which implies Ashley sees nothing wrong with slavery providing the slaves are treated well;
"Scarlett, I will not make money out of the enforced labour and misery of others"
"You won't so particular about owning slaves"
"That was different; we didn't treat them that way"
I find by far the most interesting aspect the portrayal of race in Gone With The Wind is the stark contrast between the black carpetbaggers (northerners who came to the south following the war who were perceived to be exploiting the local populace) and the recently freed slaves who are still childlike, dim-witted and happy to help out their masters of whom they are dependent on. The first black carpetbagger seen in the film features a sharply dressed, liberated northern black man traveling with a white accomplish but more significantly, in a scene not long after this Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) sneers at a pair of African-American carpetbaggers who are wearing fancy suits, smoking cigars and laughing. Mammy, who just had to beg for money along with Scarlett, sneers at this black men having the time of their lives. While the phrase is not used in the movie, these individuals would be referred to in many quarters as "Uncle Toms", perceived sellouts to their black brethren. The appearance of independent, well to do black men from the North goes against the narrative of Gone With The Wind being a racist film. I'm not qualified to comment on the historical accuracy of Gone With the Wind or how well it portrayed the time and place it depicts but there's too much nuance within the film's depiction to simply shout "wasis!" rather than having a more productive conversation or what the film did or did not do right. To quote the late, great Roger Ebert, "A politically correct "GWTW" would not be worth making, and might largely be a lie."
The film's opening prologue and the scenic shots of Tara could be seen as Confederate propaganda with its Utopian presentation of a world alongside the opening prologue which reads;
"There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered, a Civilization gone with the wind."
Yet if there's any authorial or filmmaking intent to propagate Confederate lost cause mythology (historical revisionism that the Confederacy's cause during the civil war was a just and heroic one) is countered by much of the film's content. There's no explicit condemnation of slavery or the confederacy but does the movie have to do this? The biggest Uncle Tom in Gone With The Wind in Scarlet O'Hara herself for doing business with the northern carpetbaggers in order to save Tara and rise above poverty. What makes Scarlett O'Hara a character I can empathize with? By many accounts, I shouldn't as she's bratty, entitled and manipulative, yet you can't help but admire her desire to survive and make better of herself despite what onlookers might say (her gumption as Margret Mitchell describes it). Scarlet is shown to have little interest in the southern cause (as does Rhett Butler). This is memorably symbolized in the shot in which war has just been announced as everyone runs frantically through the foyer of Twelve Oaks and Scarlett angrily walks by them as if they aren't even there. Really the one cause Scarlett is dedicated to is that set of her family of Irish immigrants who came to America and accomplished the American Dream of owning land ("Land is the only thing in the world worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for").
Gone With The Wind is one of few films in which every character, no matter how minor is significant in their own way, with Star Wars or The Ten Commandments being one of few other films which achieve this. Now if only I could do without Prissy (Butterfly McQueen), one of the most cowardly, unlikeable characters ever - and that nails on chalkboard voice! Thankfully Scarlett gives her a good slap.
Then there's my boy, Rhett Butler; the cinematic embodiment alongside Han Solo and Indiana Jones of masculinity and individualism (and what an introductory shot!). Men want to be him and women want to be with him. A man out for himself and a realist doesn't really believe in the Confederate cause and is by far the most self-aware character in the film. In a defining scene Rhett points out how the south isn't equipped for war while the other southern gentlemen are blinded by illusions of grandeur and he's not afraid to call them out on it, while remaining a gentleman the whole time and removes himself from the meeting after the other gentlemen feel insulted by his comments. Even when Rhett joins the Confederate Army near the end of the war as he describes himself as having a weakness for lost causes, he's still self-aware of how foolish his actions are. Just before Rhett leaves Scarlet at the carriage after escaping from Atlanta, the film treats us to what I consider the greatest kiss in film history with its layers on intensity; melodramatic dialogue, sweeping music, and the blood-red sky.
Rhett's actions do however lead to one scene which gets many viewers in a tussle; Rhett's drunken marital rape of Scarlett after she refuses to have sex with him. Not to mention Scarlett is seen the following the morning have enjoyed the experience! I don't believe however the film at all rewards or gratifies Rhett for his actions and subtlety condemns it. Not only does Rhett show remorse for his actions the following morning, but the rape is also the final act which leads to the destruction of a marriage which was already on shaky ground.
Leslie Howard's Ashley Wilkes who is in many ways the counterpoint of Rhett Butler as the tender, effeminate, proud southerner (with a transatlantic accent, go figure). Ashley is a romantic who is crippled by his nostalgia for the old south. Ashley spends most of the film listlessly adrift through the harsher realities of the reconstruction era. Unlike Scarlett, he has no goals or ambitions for the future. All he can do is remember the elegance of his life as it once was and wish that he could return to those old days.
Rounding out the film's four main cast members is Olivia de Havilland in her undersung performance as Melanie Wilkes, crossing the line of being saintly without ever being sickly. Did she know about Scarlett and Ashley or not? Was she really a saint, or just naive, or perhaps exceptionally wise? Scarlet is the sister Melanie always wanted with each of them possessing qualities the other lacked, especially during their bond over joint survival during and after the war. Scarlett saved Melanie's life and Melanie kept her cool under fire in a way that earned Scarlett's private (though reluctant) admiration. She also did not hesitate to do hard work she never would have had to touch before the war. She was, therefore, more valuable to the family's survival than Scarlett's two sisters. The speculative question of whether Melanie knew about Scarlett's obsession with Ashley. Perhaps Melanie knew she could trust Ashley while seeing that Rhett was the right man for Scarlett by trying to promote their relationship.
Strange Interlude is a movie for the patient viewer. I had difficulty getting through it on first viewing but due to my amour of Clark Gable and a soft spot for old mental illness melodramas with stories of bad blood and insanity passed through genes (scientific validity?) plus that creaky charm you get from pre-code films, on rewatching I did find new appreciation for Strange Interlude. The original 1928 play by Eugene O'Neil was a staggering 6 hours long; the film condenses that to below two hours whether for better or worse. - I struggle myself to imagine watching a 6-hour version of this story.
The plot of Strange Interlude requires a bit of setting up but after Nina (Norma Shearer) marries the naive Sam (Alexander Kirkland) then the ball gets rolling and the tension escalates when she is told by Sam's mother (May Robson) that mental illness runs in her family and father's a child with Dr. Ned Darrell (Clark Gable) without her husband's knowledge. Also thrown into what makes a love square plot is the nihilistic, miserable excuse for a human being in the form of Charlie (Ralph Morgan). It's some quality melodrama full of classic hallmarks including a house by the sea with crashing waves, a pleasing New England aesthetic and some fine fashions by Adrian. One area where the production does go wrong is with the overdone aging makeup on the four main cast members, turning them geriatric in 10 years - At least Gable's drawn on mustache looks legit.
Granted I am a Gable die hard but I will passionately argue why the man is underrated as an actor. The role of Dr. Ned Darrell is one of his finest acting achievements; in particular when he interacts with his biological, spoiled brat of a child who doesn't know he is his real father. Norma Shearer likewise shows shades of a Garbo-esque drama queen, verging on over the top without crossing into laughable territory.
The unique selling point of Strange Interlude is the voice-overs in which the viewer can hear the character's thoughts in an attempt to replicate the original play's use of soliloquy - a technique in which characters speak their inner thoughts to the audience. This experiment is clearly a product of filmmakers trying to adapt to the early days of sound and the opening title explains the technique to the audience and even the first line delivered in this manner alludes to it ("Queer things, thoughts, our true selves, spoken words are just a mask, to disguise them"). It is necessary, however? - I can't say is. The body language of the actors and the cinematic form allow for this sort of information to be conveyed to the audience which Strange Interlude does anyway any many cases. None the less it doesn't ruin the film by means and is at least a commendable experiment.
Rocky Balboa really does feel like meeting up with an old friend. The character himself is just as honest and done to Earth as ever, showing Stallone understands his own creation better than anyone else. So how do we make a Rocky film emotionally engaging right off the bat 16 years after the last movie? Have it revealed that Adrian died at some unspecified point (before 1995 at least) and that he is emotionally distant from his son along with a sprinkle of nostalgia in showing that he still has pet turtles (so are they the same turtles from the first movie?). Rocky Balboa doesn't draw too heavily on little nods to the previous movies but a few are there. Rocky revisiting his old haunts really puts his journey in retrospect as he looks back on the ghosts of the past. More drastically however, Rocky Balboa breaks the series tradition and has no recap of the final fight from the previous movie, setting itself up as its own separate beast.
In Rocky Balboa, the titular character is doing well for himself at least in terms of his standing in the community and even operates a restaurant named after his late wife. The real difficulty Rocky currently has in his life is the strained relationship with his son Robert (Milo Ventimiglia). Robert is ultimately a bit of a snob who is more intellectual than his father and works in a modern, geometric building (the Cira Centre); a world where the street weary Rocky doesn't belong. Robert is clearly bothered by his father and doesn't want to live in his shadow and only get ahead because of his last name. There is even a reference to the father-son relationship in Rocky V when Rocky uses the phrase "Home Team" to his son. See Stallone, even you can't deny it exists (he actually gave the film a rating of "0" on a British talk show)
Like previous films in the series, Rocky Balboa draws comparisons to Stallone's own life. The scene in which Rocky tries to convince the boxing commission to grant him a license feels just like Stallone trying to pitch the movie itself to a group of Hollywood executives; and it's true that Stallone didn't have an easy time making Rocky VI. Even the reactions within the movie to the fight's announcement echo the reaction to the movie's announcement ("Rocky the President has labeled you a Balboasaurus"). I appreciate films about old age as they are few and far between (excluding Lifetime movies). - You can't teach an old dog new tricks? Nonsense!
One of the weakest aspects of Rocky Balboa in my book is the largely forgettable opponent Mason 'The Line' Dixon. He is not over the top like Rocky's previous foes and has no definable personality, memorable lines and has an RBF throughout the entire film. A more subdue villain could be interesting if done right but the script makes no attempt to do so. Honestly, his managers are far more interesting as a group of cynical, greedy boxing promoters. Although my biggest gripe with Rocky Balboa is the film's visual appearance. The cinematography is way too overexposed and there is way too much blue in the colour scheme; I had to adjust my eyes in order to get used to it. - I will say Creed is far more visually asserting movie.
Burt Young makes Paulie grouchy and grumpy as ever and gives his best performance as the character, well in a deleted scene that is in which Paulie breaks down after losing his job after 31 years and speaks of how much he misses his sister. This has me screaming, "why wasn't this left in the film?!" I get scenes have to be sacrificed for pacing but could they have not squeezed this scene in there? Oh well, that's all part of filmmaking. Bringing back the character of Marie on the other hand, a one scene character from the first film is one of the best aspects of Rocky Balboa. I actually was fortunate enough to not know this going into the film and her reveal was a huge gasp moment. Likewise, the relationship between Rocky and Marie's stepson named, well Steps presents an endearing generational difference. Rocky Balboa carries on what simply makes the Rocky films superb - great characters. Plus as with the rest of the series, there are many inspirational lines which I can add to my Rocky lexicon ("It ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you get hit"). Even Duke's "hurting bombs" monologue may be his greatest line ever, and that's saying a lot.
The final fight in Rocky Balboa (which itself was inspired by a 1994 bout between a 45-year-old George Forman and a 26-year-old Michael Moorer) comes about because of a computer fight on ESPN. A "what if" scenario in which a computer determines who would win a fight between two contenders from different time periods; the premise sounds ridiculous on paper but surprisingly it actually works. The fight is by far the most realistic in the series up until that point. Thankfully the strive for realism doesn't make the fight any less exciting than previous Rocky bouts. The fight is presented like it's the real thing; it's live on HBO, stats appear on the screen, its shot in HD and Michael Buffer is the presenter. The fight does transition from the live broadcast to a traditional movie presentation with some effective use of colouring in the black & white shots
Rocky Balboa is not my favourite film the series but how many franchises can say the 6th installment was this good. Where it certainly does succeed is in leaving the viewer with that uplifting Rocky feeling. In the final shot, Rocky visits Adrian's grave and walks into the background disappearing into thin air, implying he's passed on, or so we thought...
In the beginning of The Hatchet Man, the Chinese community ("Yellow residents" as the opening crawl refers to them as) of San Francisco circa 1918 are a parallel society to the majority of America. However, fast forward to 1932 and the community has moved beyond the Tong wars of the past to a more Americanized and western way of life in which many of the old ways are dismissed such as foot binding and women having less freedom. - Meanwhile, elders in the community hold onto their more old fashioned ways. Instead, we see a community which is becoming integrated into wider society and there are even signs of interracial relationships with mixed couples seen in the dance hall sequence in one of the more insightful films about the oriental to come from this era.
The Hatchet Man is another pre-code William Wellman gem in which the production values, extensive camerawork, and detail in the sets are second to none. The graphic ending is one of the best in pre-code cinema but the scene which I feel best shows of the craftsmanship present in The Hatchet Man is that early in the film in which Wong (Edward G. Robinson) has to kill his best friend and blood brother Sun Yat Ming (J Carroll Nash). At the beginning of this lengthy and slow-paced scene, Sun is finishing writing a will to Wong under the fear that he will be killed by a Tong ("The one I am expecting comes through doors without knocking"). Sun is leaving Wong all his worldly goods and his daughter to become his wife when she is of legal age. Soon Wong arrives and after many gaps in the slowly delivered dialogue with calming Chinese music in the background, the camera does an epic zoom on Robinson as he delivers the fatal line "I am the hatchet man of the Lem-Sing Tong".
The one drawback of The Hatchet Man is the casting of Edward G Robinson; he isn't fully convincing in the role of Wong Low Get. Sometimes he looks Asian which his epicanthic fold but not always, not to mention he doesn't sound particularly Asian which his Eastern European accent. That said if you can suspend your disbelief at Robinson playing an oriental, you're still left with a performance with the intensity you would expect from Robinson. Otherwise, it's hard to tell in the cast who is Asian and who is a white actor in makeup. Loretta Young is far more convincing in her role as Wong's adopted daughter Sun Toya San. Wong's romantic relationship with his adopted daughter raises many eyebrows from today's standards not is it ever made clear if she knows this is the man who killed her own father, but this just makes the odd relationship all the more fascinating. Leslie Fenton, on the other hand, is the film's big scene-stealer as the slim ball villain Harry while Toshia Mori (who was originally to play Loretta Young's role) as Wong's secretary is a very striking screen presence.
There is much less focus in Hollywood cinema of Chinese-American gangsters as opposed to Italian-American gangsters; a shame since it's a fascinating underworld with it prevalent theme of honor.
The Wet Parade is unusually long for a pre-code film at 2 hours resulting in a real mini-epic and an informative history lesson on the topic of the prohibition of alcohol in The United States by people who had just lived through it. Whereas most films on the topic focus on the criminal side of prohibition, The Wet Parade focuses on how it affected regular law abiding people.
The first act of The Wet Parade takes places in the American south and this portion of the film does meander a bit (also what is up with that cut made 19 minutes into the movie? - It couldn't have been less jarring if they tried). None the less it's worth patient wait for the shocking, pre-code melodramatics this act has to offer as Lewis Stone in the role of a southern gentleman succumbs to the bottle in the most over the top fashion. It's not enough that he ends up victim to alcoholism; he has to be found dead in a literal pigsty. After the proceeding funeral his daughter Maggie (Dorothy Jordan) offers a beautiful, histrionic breakdown after seeing her father's friends using whiskey have a toast to their departed friend ("And I only hope I live to see the day, that every bit that was ever made is poured into a cesspool where it belongs"). So yes, just blame the drink and not place any personal responsibility on her father's lack of self-control. - More on this later.
The remainder of The Wet Parade takes place in New York City in which Maggie is introduced to the hotel owning Tarleton family and their son Kip (Robert Young). Walter Houston as the father of the family couldn't ham it up more if he tried in the role of Pow Tarleton with his manly, Victorian demeanor. Pow is a hardcore Democrat and Woodrow Wilson fanboy as he drunkenly fawns over the commander in chief. Early in the film, he is seen giving a rousing political speech on the street which is contrast to a Republican elsewhere as it intercuts to both sides accusing the other of infringing on people's liberates. - Huston himself would go on to portray a fictional POTUS himself the following year in Gabriel Over the White House.
Films dealing with politics in Hollywood's golden age rarely would mention actual political parties and by extension not identify characters as being associated with actual real-life parties (at most they would imply party connections). The Wet Parade is an exception to this as various characters are identified as being either Republican or Democrat. There is no clear political alliance The Wet Parade sides with yet it is an interesting observation that all the identified Democrats in the film are rowdy men's men and heavy drinkers ("I never knew a Republican that could hold more than a pint") while the two identified Republicans are pretty boys who don't drink.
The Wet Parade provides an overview of the events which eventually leads to prohibition being enacted. This begins with the re-election of Woodrow Wilson in 1916 and immediately after the results come in on election night, a group of Democrats sing a loud isolationism chant which dissolves into stock footage of marching troops to George M. Cohen's 'Over There'. - Nice one. With the US involved in the Great War we see the food control act introduced which Pow refers to as "the hick towns of the Bible belt are behind this, a snide blue-nosed trick to force the county into prohibition". The Anti-Saloon League then begins pushing to get the Food Control Act into permanent, national law. This is followed by a scene in which we see the angry reaction from the soldiers in the trenches on whom it's supposed to benefit, frustrated that they won't be able to get a drink once they return home.
Following the introduction of prohibition, Pow's wife catches him with a drink in the basement and grabs the bottle off him before smashing it on the floor. Pow strangles her then proceeds to beat her up, killing the poor woman in one of the most shocking moments in pre-code cinema. As a result Kip and Maggie unite to crusade against the illegal alcohol trade, united by the damage and death alcohol has brought upon both their families. There is a historical analogy in this as long-time leader of the Anti-Saloon League Wayne Wheeler was himself was motivated by his disdain for alcohol due to a childhood incident in which an intoxicated hired hand accidentally stabbed Wheeler with a hayfork.
The Wet Parade showcases the negative effect alcohol can have on people's lives but more importantly demonstrates how prohibition caused more problems than it solves, removing the tool rather than going to the root of the problem. As one of the gangsters in the film describes the illegal trade, "An industry bigger than the one they abolished". The film even goes as far as acknowledging the government was behind the poisoning alcohol which made drinkers lose their sight. In one scene Kip and Maggie are given a good talking down by a friend (Neil Hamilton) in a line which best sums up the moral crusade which was prohibition; "People have been drinking for thousands of years, you can't keep liquor away from people that want it. The minute you tell them they can't have it more of them are going to stop drinking and get drunk instead."
Rounding out the large cast of The Wet Parade is Myrna Loy during her bad girl phase. Her character is based on actress and speakeasy owner Texas Guinan and she even utters Guinan's catchphrase "Give the little lady a big hand!". The movie does not let down in its Loy factor and she has a satisfying amount of screen time even if it takes an hour until she first appears.
The Wet Parade is directed by Victor Fleming, most famous for directing The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind both in the same year. I think The Wet Parade may be the most interesting film he's done outside of that. Outside of the film's opening act in the American south, the remainder of the picture moves at a very brisk pace and features a large number of long takes. The Wet Parade is one of the most informative films on this period of American history and makes for a great double feature with the James Cagney prohibition spanning gangster picture The Roaring Twenties.
Now I'll Choose Your Outfit. Robert Redford in Electric Horseman
The Electric Horseman is a very old fashioned movie for the 1970s; Its a return to the type of movie made during Hollywood's more innocent days and could have easily been a vehicle for an actor like Gary Cooper. There's something about the movie that's just very wholesome to it from the absence of sex, bad language and the innocent nature from the "that would never happen in real life" plot which hits all the emotional beats. A movie in which you're rooting for a horse is going to have something inherently innocent about it. Even the opening shot of a running horse is very similar to the opening shot of Sydney Pollack's earlier film They Shoot Horses Don't They but they are, tonally, completely different.
The opening montage catalogues the story of rodeo star Sonny Steele (Robert Redford); a rise and fall story which echoes Walter Matthau's final words in A Face in the Crowd. Sonny, a once legitimate figure is now nothing more than a mascot for a product he doesn't even use. He is trapped in a world of corporate superficiality; no surprise then that the movie is set in Las Vegas of all places. Even the villains of The Electric Horseman are two dimensional, slimy businessmen who don't have an ounce of empathy. They are about as cliché as it gets but in an enjoyable love-to-hate way.
Sonny's horse Rising Star is a metaphor for Sonny himself; the horse's story is essentially Sonny's. When he talks about what the horse has been through and its desire to be free, he is talking about himself - A former champion who is leading a pampered life and has become no more than a corporate icon. It's clear that Sonny has no sex or family, as evident from his recent divorcee just like how Rising Star has been sedated by drugs. Sonny is left with no choice but to try and break free from this existence and set Rising Star (and metaphorically himself) free because anything's better than the living hell he is currently experiencing.
Jane Fonda's role as Hallie is a throwback to the fast-talking, Hildy Johnson like news reporter. I also have to question if Fonda's hairstyle and glasses had any inspiration on the look of the titular character in Sydney Pollack's Tootsie three years later. The scenes between Redford and Fonda alone in the wilderness are reminiscent of classic screwball comedy in the age-old classic "they hate each other but love in love" scenario. Likewise one of my favourite scenes in the film involves Sonny giving passionate monologue to Hallie about the horses' mistreatment unaware he's being recorded. Once he thinks the recording has started he has nothing interesting to say ("He's one of the great animals...in the history...of animals"). A lesson to filmmakers of any stripe really.
I also imagine the inclusion of Dave Grusin's Disco Magic probably didn't help the move when it came out in December 1979; six months after the Disco Demolition Night. However, The Electric Horseman is part of Hollywood's urban cowboy phase the late '70s and early '80s. This oxymoronic combination does give the film one of the most unique action sequences I've ever seen as Sonny rides his horse against an onslaught of police cars and motorcycles through a small town (I'd like to see this in Grand Theft Auto).
The ending in which Sonny releases Rising Star into the wild is ridiculous. How long would a champion racehorse survive in the wilderness? It would probably die of starvation and loneliness and certainly not be immediately accepted by a wild herd. But at the end of the day, it still strikes an emotional heartbeat.