CP'S CLASSICAL GAS

The Golden Era of the Good Script: Some Notes on "Isle of the Dead"

2012-10-24T14:38:00.000+11:00

We will never know if Val Lewton was being self-referential or not, when he referred to Isle of the Dead as being “an unholy mess of a film”. The phrase ‘unholy mess’ was originally presumed to refer to a number of detrimental incidents connected to the making of the film. The worst of these was that Boris Karloff had a serious back condition and was forced to have an operation, which held up production for a considerable time. According to most sources it was not an easy film to make for all persons concerned, hence Lewton’s (apparently) dismissive remark. But I think that it needs a little more elucidation than that.

The phrase “unholy mess” I think tells us more about the artistic pre-occupations of Val Lewton himself, than it does about Isle of the Dead’s troubled gestation. This seemingly off-the-cuff remark could also reflect Lewton’s sense of frustration at his status as a B-picture producer, with the concurrent pressures of getting a picture made on time with very little rehearsal, and even less money to spend on making it look (and sound) respectable.

Maybe Lewton was (unconsciously) acknowledging a primary theme of his movie by his use of the word ‘unholy’, and the particular theme I am refering to is the seeming incompatibility between folk belief and organised religion in primitive cultures. Isle of the Dead, whilst not exactly in the same league as Cat People or I Walked With a Zombie is a doom-laden saga about the inevitability of death, with a few effective scares thrown in for good measure. As a counterpoint to the 'action', there is also some interesting and somewhat provocative discussion between the characters about the nature of religion, and the decline of superstitious belief that, will certainly enthrall you if you find these issues to be important.

A bizarre publicity still for "Isle of the Dead"

Keeping in mind that Lewton may have said it was "unholy mess of a film" at a time when he was obviously unhappy with the finished product, we should also remember the number of artists who have ever, in history, denigrated their work as being unfinished, unsatisfactory or just plain bad, ie ‘an unholy mess’ (I haven’t sat down to make a list, but I’m sure there’s lot). I’d like to made the case that the power of the phrase ‘unholy mess’ is unfortunate, in that it turns potential viewers away from sitting down to watch the film to judge for themselves, and makes it more difficult for those of us who actually like Isle of the Dead, from explaining exactly why it is we do like it.

Recently I sat down to watch Isle of the Dead for the umpteenth time, in order to nail down exactly why it was that I liked it on first viewing, and still do. I can think of no other way to do this, than basically ignore all aspersions against it, and concentrate instead on giving the reader some kind of idea as to why it works for me, personally. To do this, I sat down to make a Cliff’s Note analysis of the plot, made out of all due respect, and hopefully without any spoilers. What I love most about the film is that it’s a fine example of the kind of literate script that most movie moguls of the golden era would kill for. Or for that matter, move moguls of any era, including our own. If this gives the readers of this blog an indication of the quality of Isle of the Dead, then I should be very glad and not a little grateful. I include stills and posters in order to illustrate the main points, and to break the monotony for the reader.

The screenplay is credited to Ardell Wray, but was most likely unofficially revised by Lewton. This was Lewton’s approach to the screenplay, as with all of the films he made at RKO. Whilst some performances are of varying quality, I think that Boris Karloff acquits himself better than the supporting players. I can only discern two of Lewton’s stock company Skelton Knaggs and Alan Napier in minor roles. Director Mark Robson seems to have concentrated on keeping Karloff’s character if not on-camera constantly, then at least being talked about by the other characters.

The cinematography by Jack Mackenzie is atmospheric and striking, and the music by Leigh Harline is apparently taken from the Rachmaninoff Symphony of the same name. It is stunningly suitable for such lugubrious subject matter. Both film and symphony were suggested by the painting ‘Isle of the Dead’ by Austrian artist Arnold Boecklin. There’s an interesting web page about the artist here. Despite what I’ve read elsewhere, I think that Boris Karloff gives a good performance as General Pherides, a handsome and distinguished Greek officer obviously troubled as a direct result of his experiences in the Balkan war of 1912 .

OPENING SCENE

Boris Karloff (General Pherides) orders one of his men to commit a self-destructive act over a minor infraction. Marc Cramer (Oliver Davis) is a journalist who looks on as the harsh judgment of the General is carried out.

SINGING IN A CEMETERY

The General takes Davis to visit a cemetery on an island away from the fighting of the Balkan war of 1912. A mysterious voice emanates from far away. Afterwards they take refuge at an inn on the island. Other people staying at the inn include Mr St. Aubyn (Alan Napier), his invalid wife (Katherine Emery) and her housemaid Thea (Ellen Drew). Thea is introduced to the General but is aware of his reputation for cruelty.

THE CANDLE GOES OUT

Thea attends to her mistress and asks Mr St Aubyn for his wife's medicine. She runs into the General and they exchange angry words. Thea accuses the General of being a cruel martinet and not a true Greek nationalist.

A GRAVE MATTER/WE WILL FIGHT THE PLAGUE

Staying at the inn also is Londoner Mr Robbins (Skelton Knaggs). He is mysteriously found dead and the General suspects an outbreak of plague. The General declares martial law, and allows nobody to leave the island, as he holds grave concerns about the health of his troops and what will happen if they are infected and unable to fight.

YOU CANNOT WASH AWAY EVIL

A vorvolaka is an evil spirit. Madame Kera (Helene Themig) is an old woman who believes the ancient superstitious folk beliefs of her people. Kera accuses Thea for being an evil spirit reincarnated, whose presence is the cause of the outbreak of plague. It appears that Mrs St Aubyn's husband has been infected but Mrs St Aubyn refuses to believe that he will die.

WATCHING THE WIND CHANGE

Mrs St Aubyn explains her fear of premature burial, as an invalid who often goes into a trance-like state where it appears she is no longer alive.

A PRAYER TO HERMES

The Doctor (Ernst Dorian) surrenders his belief in science in deference to the Greek god Hermes, He fears he is infected by the plague.

I'M NOT AFRAID OF DYING

Cerberus, the three headed dog guarding the gates to Hell

Mrs St Aubyn nurses the doctor. Other characters pray to Hermes but the General does not. The General explains he is an atheist. Oliver believes the General is a good man who is attempting to protect them.

FEEDING THE FIRES OF AN OLD GOD

Kera explains her beliefs in evil spirits to the General. During sleep, the spirit spends its time with demons.

ARE MY THOUGHTS DIFFERENT TO OTHER MEN?

Oliver sympathises with the General, realising he is fighting something bigger than the plague. Thea calls Kera's superstitions 'stupid'. The General threatens Thea with his knowledge of evil spirits and accuses her of causing the decline of Mrs St Aubun who is becoming weaker.

COULD IT BE MY SPIRIT

Mrs St Aubyn explains that she trusts Thea. The General confronts Thea and Oliver. Oliver defends Thea from the General's accusations. The General becomes unhinged and plots so that Oliver and Thea will not be able to leave the island.

I CANNOT SEE THROUGH STONE AND MORTAR...LIKE SOME I KNOW

Thea informs Mrs St Aubyn of the General's threats. Mrs St Aubyn accuses the General of persecution and tyranny. Oliver tells the General he has no rights over any of them.

A CROSS OF ASHES ON THE DOOR

Mrs St Aubyn collapses and Thea fears she will be blamed for being a vorvolaka. The General forces his way into Mrs St Aubyn's room, and the General accuses Thea. Oliver tells Thea to avoid the General.

THIS ACCURSED ISLAND

The General fears he has been infected with the plague. A slow drip of water in an empty tomb suggests that maybe a vorvolaka exists amongst them after all.

I HEAR IT

The General hallucinates on his deathbed about Thea. Thea hears a singing bird and looks for it in the forest, but fears for her safety and seeks refuge in a stone tomb, She escapes from an apparition who is hardly seen. The General recovers to find out he has been unable to protect Kira.

WAIT MRS ST AUBYN!

Thea makes her peace with the General who thinks he saws the vorvolaka. Oliver and Thea are free to leave the island.

Breaking News: The Internet Makes You More Literate:

2012-08-30T09:36:00.000+10:00

Last week I made the not-so-momentous decision to buy an eReader. Since I'm not exactly rich at the moment, my choice was made simple: a device not linked to any book store or retail outlet. A straight-out vanilla reader where I wasn't expected to link up to any outlet which requested me to buy anything. Very luckily for me, I received 40 free text files already on the device, along with a carry case and a memory card, which seems kind of useless because it doesn't seem to fit anywhere. But with a massive 4 gigabytes of space to download whatever I want including music and videos, I'm not complaining.

I'm trying to imagine what it would be like if I was sixteen years old, and on the verge of discovering great works of literature. I'm certain I could be a big threat to the status quo. Just think, some of the greatest writers in the history of civilisation all on my personal eReader for free! Shakespeare, Dickens, and the great Russian novelists and short-story writers like Dostoyevsky, Tolstsoy and Turgenev. Not to mention the paragons of American social realism like Upton Sinclair and Jack London to name just two off the top of my head.

Many of these writers works are available as public domain files at the Project Gutenberg site and other sites specialising in free e-books, which, at the moment, are probably too numerous to mention. Pardon my cynicism, but I don't believe that the elites who think they are running things, would like to have it be known, that reading is actually beneficial in that it greatly assists individual thought. It's hardly a novel concept after all. Reading can be a downright incendiary act, especially if you are young, open-minded and eager to know and understand the world. At least that's what I was taught, and I think that the people who taught me were right.

If the internet is allowed to follow its natural course, and become the free, open and world-wide source of information we all would like it to be,I think the world is going to be in for a big shake-up, something like what happened when Martin Luther nailed his theses on the door of a German church in 1517. And books like "The Iron Heel", "The Jungle" and "Crime and Punishment" for example, will not be merely the privilege of the few who believe they possess the intellect to understand what the authors intended. Canonised books such as these will be reinvented by the public imagination, away from the musty halls of university libraries and into the hearts and minds of those of us who believe in equality of information and access for every person on the globe no mater who they may be.

I believe that the copyright laws we have at the moment are antiquated and need to be reformed if the internet is permitted by new and more enlightened statutes to progress further down the road of accessibility and inclusiveness.

With nothing to divide us, we can accomplish anything.

Manufacturing the West: Some Interesting Revisionist Westerns

2012-07-26T19:03:00.002+10:00

Monument Valley, where many John Ford westerns were filmed

The western was once a popular genre, and reached its apotheosis at a time when the United States could claim to be the most powerful country in the world. For Americans, the western personified what they themselves claimed to be, a country of heroic and rugged individuals who had successfully conquered the wilderness by using the virtues of European civilisation they believed their ancestors had left long behind. This is supposedly what made the settlers of the frontier so unique. The importance of the frontier in the American mind is attributable to the work of Frederick Jackson Turner, a nineteenth century historian. Enlightenment thinking was fused with a restless psychological reading of American character that emphasised the Victorian virtues of hard work, economic prosperity and the rigid outlinings of class and gender. In the guise of entertainment, Hollywood presented to the world a genre which purported to celebrate the rise of America and her economic domination of the world stage, especially in the decades leading up to 1939.

Historian Frederick Jackson Turner

By August 1945 however, the war seemed to be a hollow victory, and the prospect of another breaking out a distinct possibility. American confidence took a turn for the worse, and the western became more of an elegy to past glories, rather than an acclamation of what was current, or possible.

Political correctness assisted in the decline of the western as an instrument of, if not propaganda, then at least a respectable way for Hollywood to make a profit. The sparse scenery of the west was populated only by white males; Indians were the enemy and women kept house whilst they waited for their cowboy husbands to return home from the range. In post-Vietnam America for example, audiences were disturbed by images of heroism that seemed to be no longer heroic. Instead, they seemed bullying, misogynistic and a blatant attack on the rights of other people.

There is that moment for every viewer in “The Searchers”, when it dawns that what John Wayne wants to do when he finds his lost niece, is not to rescue her from her Indian captives, but instead to kill her as punishment for betraying her race. Our hearts sink. We become concerned, but finally resigned and then relieved, as Wayne relents, and decides to spare her. It’s a moment that transmogrifies the entire genre and sends it off into another direction. Manifest destiny is only achieved at the expense of others not defined as ‘us.’ The frontier is no longer boundless when there are others who were there first, and define themselves as part of that land, and how that land belongs to ‘them’ and not to ‘us’. The notion of purity of race, most prevalent in nineteenth century European thought, begins to smack of repressed Freudian sexuality as the white man attempts to tame nature by pre-supposing that other races and peoples are too weak to stand in his way.

The most famous western star of them all, John Wayne

Ironically, the ethos of the western frontier embraces certain beliefs that political correctness professes to denounce: a deeply embedded embrace of conformity, alongside the hope that a certain belief system will hopefully make people treat each other with something vaguely labelled as ‘respect’. This is actually a brand of fatalistic populism which shuns difference, and encourages outsiderism toward those not included in a narrow-minded definition of who exactly is meant to be part of the status quo. A deep distrust and intolerance of others who do not appear to share the beliefs of the majority. A so-called tolerance of rogue opinion and unconventional behaviour so long as it is demonised, and labelled as anything from merely anti-social and unhelpful, to bordering on pathological or psychotic. The purpose is to encourage hostility towards enlightenment, or deliberate attempts at intellectual life or thought within the confines of an untutored empathy with order. (1)

The “wild” west, as it was known was filled with iconic characters and outlaws who thumbed their noses at authority, like Billy the Kid, Wild Bill Hickock and Buffalo Bill. Alongside this championing of the underdog there is also a parallel sub-text of the urge for revenge, and the forcible retention of civil order by the acceptance of violence as a mandatory form of justice. How close this may be to historical reality is open to question, and in the words of director John Ford, “when there’s a choice between reality and legend, always print the legend”. Despite its decline in popularity in recent times, the western in popular imagination still retains its power to nostalgically (and mistakenly) bring to mind a time when there was no indecisiveness. That is, how the period of the rise of the American frontier was a simpler era, when moral imperatives and calls to action were easier to implement than they seem to be in the every-day present of modern ideas of civilised negotiation and compromise.

Alan Ladd was the idol of kids in the fifties as Shane

Another irony seems to be how the western in its decline as a cultural imperative, actually increased in power when it turned in on itself and questioned the nature and purpose of the American frontier. How in the complex character studies within the work of Sam Peckinpah for instance, the idealism of the west as a unifying idea becomes corrupted by its dependence upon opportunism and an unrelenting oppression, leading to irrational outbreaks of violence. But Peckinpah comes after the four films I would like to discuss, which act unifyingly as a transitional instance of the western beginning to lost confidence in itself as either a narrative of relevance or device of truth-telling.

Gary Cooper man of the west

In Man of the West, Gary Cooper stars as an ex-gun-slinger forced to confront his past. He is travelling on a train that is robbed. He gets left behind in the wilderness with two other passengers, but is actually in familiar territory, and falls back in with the leader of his former gang, killer Doc Tobin, played by Lee J Cobb. Tobin is a Lear-like patriarch who has seen better days. He attempts to reinstate Cooper back into the gang, but Cooper will not abide by his rules any longer and after five years of living an upright life, secretly despises Tobin, but has to consider the situation of the other two people who have accompanied him. Cooper’s innate goodness is used to perfection as he is cast as almost an innocent man who refuses to succumb to the evil of his previous existence. His reticence to commit any kind of violence is contrasted to the cut-throat Tobin and his gang who systematically kill anything and anyone who stand in their way, which they rationalise as purely a matter of survival. In this film, the use of violence as a means of justice in the old west is scrutinised and found wanting. As in High Noon, Cooper is the hero precisely because he hardly appears to be the gun-slinging type. The film appears to be brutal, but it’s not so much what the viewer sees, as to what he is put through by director Anthony Mann. The violence is not shattering but only feels that way because of the tension that the director creates between the characters. Mann seems to be critical of the notion that violence should be seen an acceptable fact of the wild west, especially when it is primarily directed at the weak who are unable to stand up for themselves.

In The Unforgiven Burt Lancaster, Audrey Hepburn and Lillian Gish star as a family living in the west, eking out a living as farmers. Gish, as their mother knows the secret of her daughter’s race, since she adopted her as a baby. When Lancaster leaves the homestead on business, Hepburn comes across an itinerant crazy man on a horse who seems to know who she is and where she came from. Indian raids are common and the family’s neighbours fear the Indians and show them no mercy. When it’s revealed that Hepburn is not in fact Gish’s natural-born daughter, the family is reviled by their neighbours and left to defend themselves against a deadly Kiowa raid. As directed by John Huston, The Unforgiven attempts to make a statement against racial prejudice as it must have been practised by the ‘folks’ of the new frontier. The family’s fellow homesteaders are transformed from loveable yokels into dangerous, hate-spewing racists when Hepburn’s true identity is revealed. The fact that it’s been kept a secret for so long further exacerbates problems between family members as Hepburn and Lancaster heave a sigh of relief they are no longer related. This is not one of Huston’s better known films, and apparently it was not one he was at all satisfied with, citing interference from the producers. But like Man of the West it attempts to redress certain issues like rogue justice and racial intolerance that the idealisation of the frontier left open to question.

Burt Lancaster again stars in Vera Cruz, a western directed by Robert Aldrich, which also stars Gary Cooper in another of his reluctant hero roles. Both ride to Mexico as the Mexicans are attempting to rid themselves of the Habsburg emperor Maximilian, who hires both men to take a cache of gold to the port of Vera Cruz. This is a gun-toting action adventure that could collapse if put under too much scrutiny. However, it is interesting in that it takes on the issue, if obliquely, of European imperialism in the Americas. The American heroes, whilst not exactly idealistic freedom-fighters come to sympathise with the plight of the Mexicans and by the conclusion of the film, are somewhat less myopic about American exceptionalism and the myth of the new frontier.

Whilst The Magnificent Seven may not immediately come to mind when discussing revisionist westerns, I think that it is a good example. It presents itself as a straightforward action adventure, which I guess it is. But in its portrayal of the hopelessness of the Mexican villagers who desperately need the Seven to defend them, director John Sturges is definitely wearing his heart on his sleeve, whatever the colour of his heart may be. The heroism and idealism The Magnificent Seven portrays does not come from some rote recitation of the virtues of the new frontier. Rather it seems very heartfelt, that Americans can come riding to assistance over the border when it is most needed. In that respect whilst not overly critical of anything in particular, the film seems to have an honest regard for its Mexican characters and is not patronising toward them. Whilst the notion of America coming to the rescue seems almost child-like today, this does not detract from the entertainment value of the film, nor its efforts to maybe put to rest the more morally unsettling notions about American imperialism, and settler mentality. The Seven can leave with a clear conscience: their mission is accomplished and their honour is untarnished by anything resembling compromise. Whilst hardly intellectually challenging, the film is an honest and heartfelt testament to the pure idea of the virtues of the American frontier, frozen in time before it turned ugly, and had to be revised in the first place.

(1) See David Thomson's essay on cracker barrel philosopher Will Rogers, who helped define what the West meant to Americans in the Great Depression, Biographical Dictionary of Film, London, 2002, p. 751.

The Power of the Commentary: Some Excellent DVD Audio Commentaries

2012-07-09T17:20:00.000+10:00

As the title suggests, this is a list of my favourite audio commentaries. It's the quality of the DVD package that I'm refering to, rather than the overall quality of the film concerned and whether I like it or not. If you're interested in criticism, or just a casual observer, the special features that DVDs provide are invaluable. You can listen to a commentary as often as you want, or only just once and never again if you've got a good memory. It's there on the disc for the asking, and whilst the films themselves are certainly good, the commentaries were terribly important to my understanding and enjoyment of them. Of course this is all highly subjective.

I should add with a certain amount of frustration, that a number of titles available in Region 4 are released without their special features, but I don't know why this is so. Instead of opining about what I've missed, the purpose of this post is to alert people to an almost endless stream of high-quality commentaries that are out there. Sadly, it's impossible to say how much longer this will last, with the upheaval caused by digital technology and the film industry's struggle to keep a hold on Hollywood's preponderance, which appears to be precarious at best. But that's just my humble opinion. Anyway, here's the list with my favourite title The Magnificent Seven, coming in at last position:

There's always a catch

10. Catch-22 (1970), directed by Mike Nichols; audio commentary by Mike Nichols and Steven Soderbergh, Paramount. This isn't one of my favourite movies, but what I understand of it is mainly due to the informative commentary by director Nichols with assistance from Steven Soderbergh. Being in the minority for not having read Joseph Heller's book, I thought it would be convenient for me to watch the film. I was 20 minutes into the film on first sitting, but honestly, did not have a clue what it was about. So, I started to watch the DVD over again with the commentary track turned on. It can be a schizoid experience dividing your concentration between the commentary and the movie but I was determined to know what was happening. Nichols is known for his erudition and he takes the viewer on an informative and entertaining ride explaining the difficulties of film making and casting (with some good vignettes about Orson Welles), and how difficult in today's Hollywood it would be to make a film of this kind. For viewers either familiar with the book or not, the commentary is a superior and informative experience, but I leave it up to you if you are as silly as me, and you need to listen to the commentary before you see the film.

9. Ryan's Daughter (1970) directed by David Lean; audio commentary by Lady Sandra Lean, Petrine Day Mitchum, Sarah Miles, Michael Stevens, Roy Stevens and a number of others; Warner Home Video. This is one of those films that's been re-appraised down the years. It was badly treated by the critics who attacked David Lean to the extent that he only made one other, "A Passage to India" which was sadly his last. Some commentaries that are cobbled together with a lot of participants can be confusing when it seems they have no idea what the person before or after them is going to say, but this is seamless. All the participants worked on "Ryan's Daughter" and they are quick to point out its virtues, and the technicians who worked behind the camera are touching in their obvious affection for David Lean. Sarah Miles is funny, and loyal to her late husband Robert Bolt, Lean's long-time collaborator and has some good stories about working with Robert Mitchum in a role in which he seemed to be miscast. Leans' widow Lady Sandra Lean is respectful and informative throughout. This commentary is a real pleasure and enhances the movie greatly. I think it's really a beautiful film, and the commentary assists no end in convincing me of that opinion.

8.Blackboard Jungle (1955) directed by Richard Brooks; audio commentary by Peter Ford, Paul Mazursky, Jamie Farr and Joel Freeman; Warner Home Video. I discovered this recently, the movie itself which I had briefly seen years ago on television. The commentary is neat, informal and very entertaining. Peter Ford is the son of Glenn Ford who had a successful career in Hollywood playing parts like this, a teacher in a deprived neighbourhood trying to make a difference to the lives of his students. The film is frank for the period in its depiction of juvenile delinquency and it seems that racial issues were as much of a problem then as they ever have been. Peter Ford speaks with affection about his father, and Mazursky who became a reasonably famous director has some anecdotes about his friends and acquaintances from New York and their efforts to break into the movies. Jamie Farr had an on-going role in the MASH TV series and seems grateful for "Blackboard Jungle" and how it helped his career. Also note Peter Ford's modest attribution concerning "Rock Around the Clock" the film's signature tune, as well as numerous other insights into the careers of other cast members and director Richard Brooks.

"those glorious people out there in the dark..."

7. Sunset Boulevarde (1950) directed by Billy Wilder; audio commentary by Ed Sikov; Paramount. This is probably my favourite film on the list, and I'm glad the commentary chores were given to Ed Sikov, the author of a brilliant book on the career of Billy Wilder, called, appropriately enough, On Sunset Boulevarde. Mr Sikov turns out to be a brilliant raconteur as well as analyst, as he discusses the making of the film, the genesis of the script (as Wilder was a stickler for the written word) and the tone of the film itself, which one could only describe as ironic and bizarre. Most of the iconic stories about the film are for the taking on this wonderful commentary, as well as some others you may not be familiar with, including the (original) bizarre opening sequence that flopped with preview audiences. Suffice to say, the replacement sequence, with William Holden face down in a swimming pool was a hit, as Wilder skillfully manipulates us into a world of Hollywood shysters and has-beens. The commentary is almost as essential as the movie.

Baby! Baby!

6. The Hills Have Eyes (1977) directed by Wes Craven; audio commentary by West Craven and Peter Locke. Umbrella Entertainment. Better known today for his 'Scream' franchise, director Wes Craven is responsible for some touchstone horror films that have become vastly popular on DVD. This is one of those, which I first found on ex-rental video. Waiting for a DVD release was worth it, and the special features are awesome including a chatty and informative commentary by Craven and producer Peter Locke, as well as an enteraining look-back documentary with many members of the cast. As the film was shot on location in the desert, there are many funny and interesting stories about the gruelling conditions the cast and crew had to endure in their efforts to make it big in Hollywood, as most were young and unknown. Craven's other films including 'Scream' and 'Nightmare on Elm Street' also have excellent commentaries, but this package stands out as being the last word on the subject, packed as it is, the advertising states, 'with a bounty of bloody extras.' No truer words were never spoken.

5. Days of Wine and Roses (1962) directed by Blake Edwards; audio commentary by Blake Edwards. Warner Video. This is one of the most off-the-cuff commentaries you are likely to hear, but this only enhances Edwards' sincerity and lack of affectation. Based on a successful television play, Days of Wine and Roses is a harrowing portrayal of a married couple trapped in a loving but dysfunctional relationship that unfortunately includes alcohol as a third party. Edwards candidly discusses his own problems, and what you get is a riveting dialogue about Hollywood and its possible dangers. As well, Edwards has stories about stars Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick and what it was like to make movies in a Hollywood that no longer exists. The beautiful title song written by long-time collaborator Henry Mancini also gets a nod. I have to say this is a terribly sad, but ultimately touching commentary that should not be missed. There's nothing self-aggrandising about it, Edwards just talks, and you have to listen. But it is great talk, and gives you an enormous amount of appreciation for the film you may not have had before.

watch Harper like girls

4. Harper (1966) directed by Jack Smight; audio commentary by William Goldman; Warner Home Video. William Goldman is a legendary Hollywood screenwriter and 'Harper' was one of his early writing successes. Based upon the Ross McDonald novel 'The Moving Target', the script caught the attention of Paul Newman as he was riding a wave of success in the mid-sixties, when it seemed he could do no wrong in the eyes of the audience. Goldman's audio commentary is fascinating as he alerts the audience to any number of difficulties that had to be overcome to getting Harper onto the screen, as cheaply and in as little time as possible, which apparently was the way they did things in Hollywood in the sixties. I also like William Goldman's audio commentary for 'Misery', directed by Rob Reiner in which he possesses the same amused irony of an ordinary bloke who wouldn't dare dream of being accepted into Hollywood's inner sanctum. Goldman doesn't have a bad word to say about anyone, but he still seems baffled by the process of making a film and this is what makes this audio commentary so insightful and amusing for any attentive listener.

3. The Conversation (1974) directed by Francis Ford Coppola; audio commentary by Francis Ford Coppola; Universal Studios. This is the film Coppola made between the two Godfather movies, and it's indicative of the director's desire to make more personal films without pressure from any studio to make it their way. The Conversation is one of a kind, and the audio commentary brings this home to the listener. Shot on location in San Francisco, The Conversation is a frightening look at a paranoid wire-tapper who overhears (and tapes), a benign conversation between two people. The fact that the conversation has been overheard has tragic ramifications, despite the wire-tappers efforts to withdraw himself from the consequences of his actions. Like a lot of great films when you attempt to encapsulate the plot, this hardly seems riveting, but it is. And the commentary is obviously the product of a talented filmmaker who knows exactly what he wants and how to achieve it. A lot of exciting extrapolation of plot and character, Coppola sounds like a born writer, and his stories of some grappling with the studio in order to make this film to the best of his ability, make for great listening. This is a fantastic film, and Coppola has done himself proud by contributing a fantastic commentary.

She's alive!

2. Bride of Frankenstein (1935) directed by James Whale; audio commentary by Scott MacQueen. Universal Studios. The work put into making the Classic Monster Collection is awesome (and still is), and it was difficult to decide which title deserved to be on my list. I was a hold-out of the Bride, despite its reputation as the best Universal horror film. But after several watches and listening to the audio commentary, I was finally convinced. Scott MacQueen's commentary is thorough and exhaustive, especially relating to the censorship problems the film had in 1935. The means in which film makers got round the prohibitive censorship laws make for some informative commentary, and MacQueen explains with great clarity and interest how James Whale thumbed his nose at the censors by being outrageous in ways that were undetectable, and irreversible once the film had been released. I should also note the excellent documentary with contributions from notables who regularly pop up in the special features of other titles in the Classic Monster Collection such as Greg Mank and Rudy Behlmer.

The 7 in action

1. The Magnificent Seven (1960) directed by John Sturges; audio commentary by James Coburn, Eli Wallach, Walter Mirisch and Robert Reylea. MGM DVD. I first saw this film on television and was taken in by its confidence in its ability to entertain an audience, as deliberately naive as that may sound today. Gun-slingers from north of the border defend a small Mexican town from a corrupt bandit and his bloodthirsty gang. A rousing adventure, the audio commentary of The Magnificent Seven reflects the film's sense of fun and adventure. James Coburn explains how the actors were cast, and basically how much fun they all had. There was a famous feud between Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen which involved the entire set whilst they were shooting in Mexico. Director John Sturges championed a young unknown German actor that nobody liked, but he stood his ground and made a mark for himself. There's a swag of information in this commentary with a lot of laughter and good times thrown in, explaining what The Magnificent Seven meant to those who made it, as well as to those who are its fans, with an excellent documentary thrown in for good measure. Enjoy!

Body Count of "Prometheus" Not High Enough? Try "Alien" Instead

2012-06-14T09:38:00.000+10:00

I was pleased yesterday to get the chance to see Prometheus, the Ridley Scott film that has been much anticipated as the prequel to Alien. There was a lot of hype involved on the net concerning its development and eventual production, and with good reason. If "Alien" is not Scott's best known film, then at least it's the one that is thought of as some kind of a benchmark of his collected work to date. "Alien" was a monster hit when it was released in 1978-79, and I'm not trying to be funny; its's just a fact. (Also, I confess to becoming vague about release dates. So I will include both years, to bow to such things as confusion over when it was exactly released in Australia, when I actually saw it myself, and any possible time lag between when it was released in other parts of the world. That is if there was one. Which I don't remember).

In space no one can hear you scream. But not so the audience.

Audiences were enthralled by the story of a alien life-form running rampant and killing off members of the crew of a space ship. It possessed a primordial desire to survive, alongside an evolutionary resistance to all man-made efforts to have it destroyed. Audiences and critics alike praised what seemed to be Scott's originality, and his unique approach to the material which was less interested in the metaphysics of space travel as was the case of 2001: A Space Odyssey, and more interested in scaring the viewer out of his comfort zone, as well as his seat. Not that I knew much about Hitchcock back then, but this kind of approach may very well have been used by Hitchcock if he had ever gotten around to making a science fiction film, which we all know sadly that he never did.

Veronica Cartwright, John Hurt, and Tom Skerritt in "Alien".

Scott's collaborators on the project included artists and designers such as H.R. Geiger, Moebius as well as many others who contributed to the interpretation of a straight-forward story of a horror in deep space too dreadful to contemplate. Horror was piled upon horror as every member of the crew was harrassed by the alien, hunted down, and then slaughtered in all manner of horrific and terrifying ways. Three crew members are eventually left, but only one survives, the heroine Ellen Ripley. Sigourney Weaver made this part her own, and it's her best known role. The story goes she initially turned the part down when it was offered to her, because she thought that being in a science fiction movie was a tad beneath her abilties as a serious performer.

Detail of interior of spaceship with Veronica Cartwright and John Hurt

Thanks to these talents involved, "Alien" had a distinctive look, a unique kind of production design (if you like), that nobody had really seen before. The compelling interior of the space-ship Nostromo, an oil refinery ship in which the travellers were trapped and seemed to have no way of escaping; a mysterious and uninhabitable planet enshrouded in perpetual fog, that wakes the travelers out of their sleep in order to investigate a possible SOS; an alien spaceship that somehow exists for the precise reason of sealing the traveller's doom, and a dripping-acid monster that once seen, is never forgotten and was the stuff that nightmares are made of. "Alien" was an instant triumph for director Ridley Scott, who had previously worked in advertising and had only made one other movie, The Duellists which had only received a limited release in the United States. Despite some rumblings about the lack of a plot, a controversy concerning the soundtrack, and a group of actors taking part in an ensemble cast who were not widely known, "Alien" became immediately iconic and I think it's fair to say will always have its pride of place in the pantheon of great science fiction movies.

Publicity shot of the cast of "Alien". The gang's all here

Now we cut to the chase, 34 years down the track. (My God, has it been that long?) When the original was released, there was no such thing as the internet; video tapes began to be marketed domestically; there were no such things as CDs. As I said, it was a long time ago -- the world has changed, and, I must admit, so have I.

There have been a number of sequels to "Alien", but I have only seen one of them, Alien Resurrection. Frankly, the other two were of no interest to me, which doesn't mean they didn't make money. By 1982, I had discovered The Thing, John Carpenter's own interpretation of an unfriendly alien. "The Thing"'s box office was indifferent when first released, but I loved it almost as much, if not more, than "Alien". Fans howled about more sequels, and Hollywood provided the necessary finance and a number of directors to keep a profitable franchise going. About twelve months ago it was announced that there was a 'prequel' underway -- that is a 'backstory' which would be an illumination of the original, as well as a narrative that would stand on its own. I had no idea how it would turn out, but knew that I would go see it which I did.

I was taken to see this when I was 12 years old.

I have to say, that I liked "Prometheus", and quite a bit at that. It is entertaining in a totally undemanding way, and that's not a bad thing. Nor I am attempting to be patronising. This is not to report I didn't notice its shortcomings, only that I was prepared to forgive them. With the fullness of time between my loyalty to the original and the release of its prequel, I was not prepared to have my expectations rise to such an extent that I would suffer disappointment. I had too many fond memories of the original to expect that "Prometheus" would exceed them, and in hindsight I am glad to have attained such sage wisdom at least in my movie-going habits. For example, I wouldn't say that "Prometheus" is dreary -- it is instead "workmanlike"; I wouldn't call it visionary -- it is "conventional"; nor would I call it thrilling because it is "philosophical", or at least tries to be. It doesn't hit the mark of something like Soderbergh's "Solaris", but it isn't for lack of trying and this should be acknowledged out of respect for the original which was about as unphilosophical as you can get. And since we were all grateful enough not to have noticed, we didn't care.

What is saddest about "Prometheus" and what makes it pale in my estimation in comparison to the original, is what I would call the "bad faith" inherent in its conception. Everything about it seems to point to Scott's insecurities about the original, how he may have made it differently, and the things he would have changed if he'd been given the chance. I find this a puzzling undertaking for an esteemed director (in his middle years), who has piled success upon success with most if not all of his ventures, an artist who has the respect of the public and his peers for his flair, and the tackling of material that may be off-beat, but is always entertaining. I am refering to my (other) favourite Ridley Scott movies, namely Thelma and Louise, Blade Runner, Someone To Watch Over Me and "The Duellists".

Scene from "Prometheus" with Charlize Theron

The most glaring shortcomings of "Prometheus", at least to me, are the following:

*We are introduced to another crew. Fair enough, but they seem to bicker with each other for no particular reason and do the silliest things. Like not co-operate when they're supposed to be running a space-ship. Nobody much stands out, unlike the crew in the original "Alien", who seemed to be authentic human beings, where the ensemble cast works superbly. Nobody emerges as a leader, and they all run backwards and forwards from the mother ship to the alien's site and back again in an effort to keep audience interest because there is no alien per se, and therefore the danger has to be coming from some other source.

*Any kind of suspense appears to be disposed of, and is replaced instead with a large amount of philosophical rumination about the nature of mans' origins. Unfortunately it compares unfavourably with something like Steven Soderbergh's Solaris, which is a re-make of Andrei Tarkovsky's Russian film of the same name. If you've read Dostoyevsky, you would know that the Russians are big on religious philosophy and probably do it better than anyone else. This is juxtaposed with lots of pointless action, presumably in order to satisfy the audience demographic of 18-25 years old males who go to the movies on Friday and Saturday nights and who Scott and the producers hope will turn their movie into blockbuster fodder. (Something, that in any director's early hunger days would send him into fits of fury concerning his artistic integrity and purity of vision. Not to say disbelief)
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*Some have praised the production design. I found it haphazard and unimaginative.

*The opening sequence seemed tacked on, and does nothing much to explain the subsequent events in the movie, but I admit the ending instead, does a lot to explain what has been going on, and is designed I am sure for further sequels, which depending on your opinion of "Prometheus" may be either a good, or not so good thing.

*There are a couple of thrill set-pieces, in so-called homage to the original, but these come off as a bit tepid and unconvincing. What could ever live up to the 'chest burster scene'? Or the death of Ash the android? Or the other memorable scenes from the original? To me the chest burster scene is better than the shower scene in Psycho. Sadly nothing comes close to this, but if it did, this would be an entirely different movie, in other words, something that Scott would be making in good faith and not in an attempt to re-think the first movie for a new audience who hadn't been born yet when it was originally released.

*The character of the 'Old Man' seems to have been stolen directly from the last section of 2001: A Space Odyssey. But here, he's being taken along for the ride, rather than being tacked onto the end of the movie. And his make-up reminded me of Andy Garcia's shrivelled facial features as a dying man who refuses to give up smoking in Dead Again (1990), a homage to Hollywood film noir directed by Kenneth Branagh, but other than this has no obvious connection to either "Prometheus" or "Alien".

*And finally, there isn't any ship's cat, especially one as adorable as Jonesy who has a lot to do in "Alien" as an extra character in the original film. Jonesy is a fellow traveller, who helplessly watches as his friends are picked off one by one. But he is wise and doesn't say anything, going about his own business instead. But I suppose this point is nitpicking, and goes too far in exhibiting my one-sided and perhaps unfair preference for "Alien".

Despite these reservations, and after all is said and done, I still found "Prometheus" to be a perfectly acceptable entertainment. What raises it above a certain pedestrian quality is the ending, which no doubt is meant to spawn a sequel or two. There's nothing wrong with that -- George Lucas had great success with his prequels to "Star Wars:" -- which I usually refer to 'star bores'. But enough of my humour at the expense of the great unwashed. He's entitled to his glory, and the movie business is just that, a business. Comparing one thing, to something else that you have always loved is probably a silly activity in any case. It's like asking a man whether he loves his girlfriend, or the woman he's been married to for the past fifty years. What could he possibly say, without at least having a good word for them both? This is exactly how I feel. I have no right to feel disappointed, as I can always go back to the original.

I have my memories.

The 40th anniversary of the Watergate scandal

2012-06-12T10:04:00.002+10:00

Television Made Them: Iconic Performers of A Bygone Era

2012-05-26T22:37:00.000+10:00

This is a post devoted to my favourite performers who became known for their roles in successful television series of the 60s and 70s. Even today, though they may have been working steadily for years after their shows were cancelled, the roles in these particular shows are still what they may be best known for. (But this is not always the case.) Some were so famous, it was difficult to avoid typecasting, they may have wondered if fame was a double-edged sword for their careers. But. we loved them, and sat riveted in our living rooms, as if this one-sided love affair would never end.

The ratings wars were treacherous and if shows didn't make money for their American advertisers they faced the axe and our favourites would have to look for employment elsewhere. As far as I'm concerned, even after all this time, John Travolta is still Vinnie Barbarino; and Farrah Fawcett will always be one of the Angels. They had their ups and downs but will always be remembered for the shows that gave them, if not a start, then at least their requisite ten minutes of fame in the spotlight.

MARY TYLER MOORE in THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW

Mary Tyler Moore played Laura Petrie in the comedy series that originally aired from 1961-1966. I was just a slip of a girl, but was enchanted by the graceful Mary and her more er, angular partner Dick Van Dyke as they manouvered their way around their new suburban house, and the post-war opportunities offered them by a booming American economy. Like the Beatles, it was a class act that made everybody happy. A running gag I've never forgotten is how in the opening sequence in the first series, Dick opens the front door, walks into the couple's living room and promptly trips over a foot couch that he doesn't see and falls over. The self-referential gag in later series is that Dick walks through the door and sees the foot couch. He laughs, and promptly walks around it without tripping. It's really very funny. When I saw Mary Tyler Moore playing a dramatic part in 'Ordinary People', I was lost. She played a woman who was cold, ungiving and thoughtless, and she did it perfectly. But to me, she'll always be Laura.

BARBARA FELDON in GET SMART

Barbara Feldon played the part of '99' -- partner of bumbling secret agent Maxwell Smart (Don Adams) in the comedy series "Get Smart" which was first aired 1965-1970. After being cancelled, the show had numerous re-runs and I remember it best when it was shown in Sydney in an afternoon time slot, so I could see it between coming home from school and having my dinner where I had to be at the table and not in front of a television set. Agent 99 is level headed, attractive and competent at her job, while Max is a failure and entirely out of his depth as a secret agent. Everyone is in on the joke, but 99 protects Max from the consequences of his own silliness in a way that is supportive and obviously the cause of 99 being in love with Max. Max, however, fails to notice 99, at least for the first couple of series. 99 plays it straight but Max mugs a lot. They work perfectly together, and looking back on it, I didn't realise that the Cold War was as funny as this.

ROY THINNES in THE INVADERS

This show is the dark horse of the group. "The Invaders" was beaten in the ratings by "Mission Impossible" and only lasted two seasons before being cancelled by its network. It never received a subsequent re-screening in the United States, but has achieved cult status in many other countries such as France, where it was shown on cable television for many years. I first came across "The Invaders" as an inquisitive little girl but was not allowed to watch much of it because of a scheduling difficulty with the elders of my household who wanted to watch something else. I got to see all of the first series and the second series is just waiting for me, so I guess all is forgiven.

This show is so intelligently written and its concept was so original at the time, that after retirement, writer/producer Alan Armer was awarded a university post in English at a southern California university for his trouble. I don't really know if the show had anything to do with it. But the concept of an alien invasion is adhered to in one episode after another, and it builds audience interest as the concept becomes the cornerstone of the show itself. Roy Thinnes is wonderful, as a man on the run with forbidden information only he possesses. A virtual swag of well-know guest stars are in the offing, as David Vincent attempts to alert the world that aliens have arrived in secret and are making their plans to take us over. If only we will believe him! I did. Long before X-Files. I did.

Does anybody believe me? Paranoia, as David Vincent sees no way of escaping "The Invaders".

And now....it's sock-it-to-me time! But Goldie didn't say that...

GOLDIE HAWN in LAUGH IN

While our parents were getting a nightly dose of the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war on the six o'clock news, we were watching this hilarious TV show that was scheduled after the news, and that mirrored the anarchy and liberalism of the sixties counter-culture which those events spawned. Rowan and Martin's Laugh In was phenomenally popular for no particular reason, other than it was funny. Goldie Hawn got her start on this show and became an overnight sensation. She fluffed her lines all the time and made everyone laugh, but somehow we also detected a brain that was only trying to fool us into thinking she was silly. Not long after, Goldie won an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress in "Cactus Flower' but no one remembers that much. Goldie Hawn will always be remembered instead, for "Laugh In".

LEONARD NIMOY in STAR TREK

"I find that highly illogical, Captain". So sayeth Mr Spock, in the original 'Star Trek' that captured our imaginations as the Starship Enterprise made its way across the universe. With his pointy ears and inscrutable demeanour, Mr Spock was always a good foil for other members of the Enterprise crew, if they became too fanciful in their celestial imaginings. Spock was the voice of reason, as the Enterprise was venturing where no man had gone before and therefore celestial imaginings became a necessity if they were to understand the different beings and planets that crossed their path. The subsequent big-screen movies lost my interest, as well as the later series. I missed the original members of the crew like Scotty and Mr Sulu, and didn't fancy following them into old age. Leonard Nimoy remained active after Mr Spock, but I've never seen him in anything else, which may not sound like I'm the greatest fan, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

FARRAH FAWCETT in CHARLIE'S ANGELS

It's a terrible thing to have to admit, but girls do notice other girls' hair-dos. And when I was growing up, my friends and I wanted to have a hair flip just like Farrah Fawcett in 'Charlie's Angels'.. Charlie's Angels made Farrah famous, the kind of 'famous' where we thought we knew her personally, by nature of the fact that we were watching her in our living rooms. After a few lacklustre movies like 'Sunburn' and 'Saturn 3', Farrah eventually won the respect of her peers with parts in excellent television movies like 'The Burning Bed' and 'Small Sacrifices.' She recently passed on, but will always be remembered.

PETER FALK in COLUMBO

I recently had a neighbour who shared my interest in 'Columbo' and she generously lent me some discs to watch of later series which I hadn't been aware of. They were surprisingly good, and when she moved I was kind of ashamed to admit that I was sad because now I wouldn't have her available if I wanted to re-watch the episodes. The loveable guy in the trenchcoat who, incidentally, has a mind like a steel trap, made us all think twice about venturing into a life of crime. With marvellous writing, and many interesting guest stars, 'Columbo' still keeps me on the edge of my seat no matter how many times I watch it.

Actually my favourite episode is 'A Stitch in Crime' which features Leonard Nimoy in a prominent guest role as a very crafty doctor who has committed a crime. But his even tempered demeanour infuriates Columbo because he knows that the doctor is too smart to slip up and be discovered. It says everything about Peter Falk's expert characterisation which made him a household name in the seventies, after acting on the stage in New York and adding some films to his list of credits. Columbo is unfailingly courteous, a bit of a slob, but has a mind that doesn't miss a thing in his quest to catch a criminal. There's also a very strong class element in the show, with most of the perpetrators being rich, cunning and deserving of punishment. Which is probably why so many people liked it.

JOHN TRAVOLTA in WELCOME BACK KOTTER

'Welcome Back Kotter' was our introduction to John Travolta in the mid seventies. A series about an idealistic teacher (Gabriel Kaplan) who returns to his native borough in New York, attempting to educate a foursome of misfits and keep his marriage together, this was a reasonably droll comedy that catapulted Travolta to fame, as well as his three friends played by Robert Hegyes, Laurence-Hilton Jacobs and Ron Palillo. The show captured a working class New York milieu, and whilst the humour was not that easily translatable, Travolta was a magnetic presence who held the show together and made it the success that it was, of course with help from the supporting players and the writing. He had an initial splash on the big screen with 'Grease' and 'Saturday Night Fever' but fell into a decline until he was rediscovered by Tarantino for 'Pulp Fiction' and has been going strong ever since. I guess you just can't hold a good talent down.

Giving Credit Where It's Due: A Rumination on the Life of A Character Actor, Credited and Uncredited

2012-05-19T11:37:00.001+10:00

Note Cary Grant's name on cast list

One of the pleasures of a movie collection is gaining an appreciation of the performers who play the parts that are not the leading roles in many of our favourite films. In old Hollywood studio movies the leads and supports seem reasonably well demarcated. With the exception of a few like Humphrey Bogart who made it big time after being cast in a string of supporting parts in mediocre films, the best looking actors usually got the lead roles in big budget prestige movies. Cary Grant was more conventionally handsome than Bogart, say, but he also did not become a star overnight, but managed an uncertain career through years of dogged persistence, and the emergence of a talent that may have taken an unsuspecting audience unawares, considering his looks.

Other performers, who were not so dependent upon their, -- shall we say 'presentation', were given the smaller parts which hopefully contributed to the narrative and a significant amount of audience attention. Character actors such as Thelma Ritter, Peter Lorre, Anthony Quinn and Claude Rains became performers of renown in their own right with a body of work that impresses us today, maybe more than ever before. It could be argued that character actors are the ones the audience want to actually know and remember for later, after the names of the performers in the leading parts have long escaped us. Which is maybe as it should be.

Bogart's name way down the list

I have my own list of favourite supporting players, and I am sure others do as well. The list of their credits may seem endless if like me, you enjoy using the IMDB to research the work of your favourite supporting players that may have escaped from under your personal radar. And because many golden age films only listed the minimum number of credits, I can say that the IMDB has insinuated itself into my psyche, for the purpose of identifying performers who have either not received a credit at all, or an acknowledgement of the part that they played at the film's conclusion. Most if not all old movies have performer credit listings before the movie begins. Some studios did not always feel the need to have them after the movie was over. 'The End' card was displayed and that meant literally the end of the movie. By the time you were thinking to yourself "that was good but I wonder who played so-and-so", the movie was finished and you were meant to get back to your life and forget about it.

But the reality is that not all of the films our favourite supporting actors made in the past are actually available for us to view today. Take Claude Rains for instance. Naturally, I am well aware of Rains' best known films such as "Casablanca", "Notorious" and "The Invisible Man", the first two at least made when Rains was at the peak of his career. However, I am also aware that "Lady With Red Hair" (1940); "White Tower" (1950); and the remake of "The Lost World" (1960) would be for Claude Rains completists only. To me, they're only listings on the IMDB which I am doubtful of ever seeing.

Now, who doesn't know for example, that Thelma Ritter plays the maid in "All About Eve", even if you're like me who. with some shame has to admit hasn't even seen the movie? The movie, and Thelma Ritter's presence in it, are that iconic. Then again, who has ever heard of "I'll Get By" (1950); "The Second Time Around" (1961); or "The Proud and the Profane" (1956), except for those hard core Thelma Ritter fans who are champing at the bit to see the complete output she made throughout her illustrious career no matter how good or bad it may be?

Robert Osterloh plays a convict in White heat

After a period of adjustment to that fact, I have found myself seeking out the identities of some character actors (two in particular), who never received a credit in the movies I first saw them in. Their bodies of work seem like an open book, compared to the iconic status of many supporting players from the classic era who are well known today, but whose best known work is probably the only opportunity we may ever have of seeing them. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I would like to point out that there are other performers just as deserving of our praise. We finally have the opportunity to discover who they might have been, the other work they did, and why we should give them, finally some attention.

One of my favourite unknown supporting players: Lawrence Dobkin

Two supporting actors have captured my attention over a number of years until I was so upset at not knowing who they were, I just had to look up the IMDB to make sure I wasn't hallucinating their presence(s). One is an actor by the name of Robert Osterloh (1918-2001), and the other is Lawrence Dobkin (1919-2002).

I first came across Robert Osterloh in "White Heat". This is one of James Cagney's best known films, an iconic Warners gangster film packed with a lot of action as well as a good helping of weird Freudian goings-on. Osterloh's name is not listed with the other performers at the beginning of the film, and there are no credits at the end. Osterloh plays Tommy Ryley, a small-time hood and Cagney's right-hand man when he admits to a relatively minor offence and has to do some time in prison. It's a great part that Osterloh has. It has a reasonable amount of screen time and he and Cagney make a great team.

At the end of the film I was keen to know who played the part of 'Tommy Ryley', and why he wasn't given any credit for it was a mystery to me. Since I didn't know what his name was, I had to remember his face in case he popped up again in some of my other favourite titles. And he did. But I still didn't know his name! That came later. The clip I'm including below from White Heat is pertinent. Osterloh is sitting on Cagney's right-hand side as Cagney is about to do something pretty spectacular. Osterloh has to communicate to Cagney some bad news, and just watch what Cagney does when he finds out.

After some time, I also noticed Robert Osterloh in two more of my favourite . films, "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". They are only small roles, and both of these are also uncredited. If you think I'm only making this up you can check out his IMDB page here, where you can see that Robert Osterloh has a list of performances, both credited and uncredited, as long as your arm. These include, but are not limited to Rosemary's Baby (uncr); Inherit the Wind (uncr); Violent Saturday (uncr); The Wild One (credited); Pinky and Criss Cross (uncr); and Gun Crazy directed by Joseph Lewis (credited.) He also had an extensive presence on television, appearing in such successful shows as Perry Mason; Laramie; Wagon Train; and Ironside, all classic television shows that are still remembered today.So, if I wanted to be a Robert Osterloh completist, I would certainly have a long haul ahead of me. But I'll never forget him in 'White Heat', and my journey to find out his identity, for the simple reason I thought it wasn't fair that he should receive no credit.

The case of Lawrence Dobkin (aka Larry Dobkin), is not dissimilar. Lawrence Dobkin first came to my attention in 'Sweet Smell of Success', a classic 50s film about the doings of a famous columnist played by Burt Lancaster and his weasel of press agent played by Tony Curtis. Dobkin plays a rival press agent of Curtis' named Leo Bartha. Bartha gets embroiled in a scheme to separate Lancaster's sister (Susan Harrison) from her boyfriend (Martin Milner). Lawrence Dobkin is not credited at the beginning of the film with the other players, nor at the end, and it struck me as strange. It's a good part with its fair share of screen time; it is also well written so we don't know what to actually think of Bartha. The clip I'm including from 'Sweet Smell of Success' has a scene where Bartha is exposed to his wife as a heel, rather than a man of principle after years of kow-towing to others in order to keep on their good side. I think it's his best scene in the film and starts at 1:57.

I also discovered Lawrence Dobkin's participation in a few other films that I was acquainted with, most notably The Defiant Ones (credited); Them (uncr.) and North by Northwest (uncr). Other titles he appeared in include 'The Ten Commandments (credited); Twelve O'Clock High; Deadline USA; and Whirlpool (all uncr.). You can check out Lawrence Dobkins' IMDB page here to see his full list of credited and uncredited appearances. As well as working in front of the camera, Dobkin has 72 credits as a director of television series and these include but are not limited to Gilligan's Island; The Munsters; and 77 Sunset Strip. So if you just watched that clip from Sweet Smell of Success, you'll see what a talented actor Dobkin really was, and how, judging from his credits, we will probabaly never get to see everthing he ever did in front of, as well as behind the camera. I should also note that he may be best known in the United States as the narrator of the television series Naked City. He has a distinctive voice like most good actors, but since he wasn't seen, his actual appearances in front of the camera were not nearly as well known as they might have been.

Anyway, I should go back now and resume making my tenuous connections, and modest proposals for an extension of the canonical names in supporting history. Let's hope some performers become better known, as their work deserves to be credited as part of the history of film.

Let Me Introduce You to My Favourite Woody Allen Movie: It's Zelig (1983)

2012-04-19T14:50:00.001+10:00

'Zelig's ad campaign didn't give much away about the film

I've always been a big Woody Allen fan. I mean, who isn't? When I was nineteen years old, I attended a Woody Allen festival that started at 11pm on a Saturday night and ended at 6am the next morning, when his back catalogue consisted of Take the Money and Run, What's Up Tiger Lily, Sleeper and Love and Death which were made when he was a struggling actor, writer and comedian. At the time, Annie Hall and Manhattan were merely a twinkle in Woody's horn-rimmed glasses, as he may have only been dreaming about the great things ahead. His so-called early 'comedy' phase, which even I am too young to remember -- consisted of writing gags for other people, and doing stand-up comedy in person in his beloved New York for very little money, and even less recognition. But even geniuses have to start somewhere. I consider Zelig to be an almost perfect movie. It's a showcase for everything that I've always loved about movies directed by Woody Allen. From the success of 'Annie Hall' in 1976 to the scandale that broke in 1992 over the break-up with wife (or was it girlfriend?) Mia Farrow, it's not an exaggeration to state that Woody had his hard-core fans (like me) eating out of the the palm of his hand. Those days are sadly a thing of the past, and I sometimes ask myself: 'why don't you wait with the same anticipation for a new Woody Allen film when the director's name on the marquee used to mean something -- at least before 'Reservoir Dogs' and Quentin Tarantino?' And sadly, for me, the answer is, 'because, dearheart, in the words of Proust, 'you're not as young as you used to be.' And for once, Proust is right. Check out the opening scene:

I think that the best description of 'Zelig' is that it's a mockumentary. Yes, you did read that correctly. It's a documentary about an individual who never actually existed. It's a mockumentary made at a time when they still had their 'mock'. So to speak. I would further venture to suggest that "Zelig" was made before the advent of political correctness, when you could make fun of politicians and other public figures, without the fear of being arrested, and other such inconsequential activities which are frowned upon today, but were considered freedom of speech by those of us who indulged in such things. But I don't want to turn this into a bully pulpit against political correctness, as it would draw attention to myself and away from the film, and frankly, I don't think I could deal with that kind of competition. What was I saying again? Ah, yes: 'Zelig' is a mockumentary, which may not in itself be a harbinger of hilarity, but believe me, it's a pretty good start.

Spoilers coming so watch out!

Sight gags abound in this allegory of the chameleon man Zelig.

'Zelig' is the story of a seemingly inconsequential 'little' man, who, if he doesn't change the course of history, makes a darn good attempt at it. The problem is Leonard Zelig has a medical condition, in which he physically changes to accommodate the people to whom he is in communication with. Therefore, if he is within reasonable distance of a Dixieland jazz band, he turns black and starts to play the trumpet. If he is with a group of overweight men, he becomes overweight himself. If he's eating in a Chinese restaurant, he becomes Chinese along with the rest of the Chinese. He is eventually hospitalised and falls under the supervision of Dr Eudora Fletcher (Mia Farrow), a bright, young doctor who is appalled at the thought that Zelig may be turned into a circus freak and/or exploited by any number of shady Jewish relatives.

Happier times for Woody and Mia. As well as the audience.

Dr Fletcher is unable to keep Zelig at the hospital two times, once when he is kidnapped by a sister and her husband and made to perform for money, and twice, when he absconds from an impossible maelstrom of scandal and fraud in which everyone from the Catholic Legion of Decency to the Ku Klux Klan are asking for his head on a plate. Zelig and Dr Fletcher fall in love, and escape from Nazi Germany in an aeroplane. Dr. Fletcher is an aviatrix but passes out from fright, and Zelig, who's never flown a plane before, takes over the controls to get them to safety. He is promptly given the keys to the city of New York, with the immortal line, 'it just goes to show you what you can do when you're a complete psychotic'. All of this is interspersed with priceless commentary, set in the present day of real-life intellectuals like Irving Howe and Susan Sontag attempting to define the phenomenon that was 'Leonard Zelig' that took place in the twenties and Depression-era thirties in America.

This ability to change at will, causes Zelig a great deal of conflict, because he wants to be an individual who is not at the whim of others, and what arises is an amazingly deft satire about how many of us are willing to bend over backwards in order to conform, to either keep the peace, or to please others. I've read some recent reviews online that paint 'Zelig' the movie as a vivid recreation of the Jewish experience in America where, as Irving Howe puts it, 'the Jews were assimilating all over the place'. I think what he means is that in general, European immigrants were just grateful to have a second chance in America, and they would do anything in order to be accepted into the mainstream, even at the cost of their traditions and formerly, firmly-held religious beliefs. All of this sounds terribly pompous considering 'Zelig's' modest aspirations as a comedy. It is that, but so much more, with its allegorical considerations and its hilarious presentation of human nature as an irrational construct at the behest of social and political forces.

Zelig transmogrifies into a Frenchman in the company of other Frenchmen

With brilliant footage shot by Gordon Willis showing Zelig bonding with Charlie Chaplin and Marion Davies at San Simeon, chatting with Presidents Herbert Hoover and Calvin Coolidge and being serenaded by legendary twenties performer Fanny Brice, 'Zelig' is also a major technical achievement of the days before digital technology. The entire concept is executed brilliantly, from the emergence of Zelig from the obscurity of the New York ghetto, to his fame as a celebrity, simply for not doing much in particular, and if anything, not actually being 'anybody' at all, which I could point out, is something that was the particular bugaboo of the intellectual elite of thirty years ago, which has now sadly come true. We are living in the era of 'Fabulous Nobodies', and nobody seems to care, and if you do, you're accused of being an elitist and a snob who doesn't understand the 'real' people, whoever, and wherever they may be, or where they come from.

Meeting the two dullest Presidents of all time, Coolidge and Hoover

The performances in 'Zelig' are all marvellous, from the smallest bits to the leading roles and I think the most brilliant performers are the interviewees in the present day, who have to make the audience believe that they existed before and still exist, despite the fact that they -- well, never did exist. The performers who play respectively, the elder Paul Duguay, and Dr Eudora Fletcher are outstanding and only add more to the wonderful pleasures of this intriguing and hilarious film. I advise everybody I know not to just walk, but run, to watch 'Zelig'.

Anyone who hasn't seen it yet, affords my deepest sympathy, and I hope will get well soon.

NOTE; For my review of 'Hannah and her Sisters' kindly click here. Thank you.

The Decline of the Musical? Says Who?

2012-04-04T21:35:00.000+10:00

The album cover of the original soundtrack of 'Camelot' (1967)

The decline of certain genres of Hollywood movies is not something to be celebrated. I was raised on a heavy dose of musicals a a time when the genre was in decline. It comes to something when you're eleven years old and after the movie is finished you turn to your mother and say: "That was terrible. Why did we come to see this for??" There was a rash of musicals released roughly between 1966-1971 that are now almost canonical in their badness. They are blamed for such things as sinking their studios because they were too expensive to make, turning audiences off in droves, wasting the talent of performers and technicians and generally giving the genre a bad name and reducing it to a sad oblivion in contrast to the glories of its past achievements. I was taken to see most these 'canonically' bad musicals, and wasn't impressed at the time. But they've kind of grown on me down the years, and I have reserved a soft spot for them in my heart. They weren't all bad I guess, and it's true that despite the mediocrity, the music itself could not be disparaged, that is if it had any merit at all, and it usually did.

The remake of 'Goodbye Mr Chips' was not a success. But it has its admirers today.

The point I'd like to make is that one generation's decline in interest in a genre, may be another's rise. I checked on the IMDB lately to find out if westerns were still being made, and it seems they are. The westerns that I remember, when they were made at all, questioned the notion of manifest destiny, say, in a way that more traditional westerns made in the forties and fifties wouldn't have dared. But there was a revolution in social mores going on in the late sixties, so that if westerns got made at all, we were expecting them to question the conventions of the genre they supposedly represented. That's just the way things were back then. These days, I think that audiences prefer not to have their basic assumptions about life questioned, and maybe that's a good reason for a lot of the pedestrian entertainment we have to tolerate. And I now proceed to directly contradict myself by coming to the defence of a collection of films that were deemed to be, exactly that: mediocre, trite and a complete waste of time to anyone with an IQ above their shoe size.

Bet you didn't know that Lee Marvin could sing. Well he couldn't...exactly.

You could hardly call the following titles a mixed bag. None of these received much in the way of critical acclaim and they didn't do very well at the box office either. And I got to see them all, thanks to my overzealous family who wanted me to have an appreciation of musicals. And I guess that's what I got, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this post. My life wouldn't be the same without them, although that can't be said of most people. So, hold your breath for a collection of '60s kitsch that will make you wonder what you may have been missing, that is if you hadn't been born yet to appreciate it.

Vanessa Redgrave looking beautiful in 'Camelot' as Lady Guinevere, who marries Arthur and becomes queen.

As a genre, the musical was popular and profitable from the advent of talking pictures onwards. But by the late sixties, the musical was having a difficult time surviving the new Hollywood of raging bulls and easy riders.Fantasy became frowned upon by a new sense of realism, the abandonment of the Hays Code, and a societal shift that thought it was pretty silly having people singing their thoughts out aloud and dancing in the rain. After the success of 'The Sound of Music' (1965), the musical took a turn for the worse, and the following, are held to blame for what is still thought of today as the decline of the genre. Since I've become more sentimental down the years, I have chosen to abandon my ridicule, and thank my lucky stars instead that I had a chance to see them at all, and leave it up to others to judge whether they should be so unfairly treated.

CAMELOT (1967): Starring Richard Harris Vanessa Redgrave Franco Nero. Music and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe. I was taken to see 'Camelot' three times by an older sister who had a crush on Richard Harris. I rightly felt it was a little above my head. I didn't understand the romance and could only see the pain that people go through when they fall in love and didn't have an explanation for it. But the songs were bewitching and I always remembered them. Standards like 'If Ever I Would Leave You', 'What Do the Simple Folk Do' and many others guaranteed that this Broadway hit would be transfered to the screen. The part of King Arthur on-stage was played by Richard Burton, who apparently talked the song lyrics as if he were reciting poetry because he couldn't sing. Richard Harris plays Arthur in the movie and he went on to have a successful recording career as a singer, most notably with 'Macarthur Park' which was a worldwide smash hit in 1968. It's a very long film which runs for at least two hours, and when there is no music, it tends to lag. It's beautifully photographed and won an Oscar for Best Costume Design. To me, Vanessa Redgrave who plays Queen Guinevere will always be 'the pretty lady wearing the pretty costumes' in 'Camelot'. And they were beautiful. Franco Nero makes a dashing French knight and there is plenty of whimsy combined with the more adult storyline of a woman loved by two men who want her exclusively for themselves. I own 'Camelot' on DVD and watch it every now and then for the music and if I'm feeling a bit blue on a Sunday afternoon. It's that kind of movie.

Julie Andrews had 125 costume changes in 'Star'. This is one of them.

STAR! (1968): Starring Julie Andrews Daniel Massey Richard Crenna. Music arranged by Lennie Hayton. Director Robert Wise enjoyed working with Julie Andrews so much in 'The Sound Music' that he suggested they re-unite for a biography of British stage actress Gertrude Lawrence. Most of the musical numbers take place as I recall, on the stage which does away with characters suddenly breaking out into song for no apparent reason. Whilst receiving mixed reviews on its release, 'Star' has stood the test of time and has a loyal following of fans, who make sure that its virtues are not glossed over. Daniel Massey received an Academy Award nomination for his role as Noel Coward, a life-long friend and supporter of Lawrence's as she went through the many ups and downs of her private and public lives. The film was hacked about a bit, and taken away from Robert Wise by 20th Century Fox because hopes dimmed of recouping the money it took to make it. Julie Andrews is required to use some salty language in keeping with Lawrence's roots in working class London, which came as a bit of a shock to those of us who were more comfortable with her image as a goody-two-shoes. My favourite musical number in 'Star' is 'Has Anybody Seen Our Ship', a hilarious music-hall number with Andrews and Massey dressed up as two drunken sailors who remain landbound after a hard night. See the video below.

SWEET CHARITY (1969) Starring Shirley MacLaine John McMartin Chita Rivera Paula Kelly Sammy Davis Jnr. Music by Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields. Choreography by Bob Fosse. Originally a stage musical, this was adapted by Bob Fosse from the Fellini film Nights of Cabiria, about the life of an optimistic Italian prostitute. The character became instead a taxi dancer in New York who has bad luck with men but remains hopeful of finding true love. What sells 'Sweet Charity' is firstly the great costumes, secondly its setting in the present-day, and thirdly, the spectacular dance numbers. MacLaine gives it all she's got and had been a dancer when she first started in show business. Paula Kelly and Chita Rivera are prominently featured as Charity's friends and their dancing is really amazing. Charity is a sympathetic character, if a little dim as she confides in her dance hall girlfriends about how badly men treat her. Unfortunately, the space between the musical numbers isn't terribly interesting. Sammy Davis Jnr sings and dances to 'The Rhythm of Life' and other great songs include 'There's Gotta Be Something Better Than This', 'Hey Big Spender, and 'Rich Man's Frug' which is actually a dance number with no singing. I enjoy" 'Sweet Charity', it's charming but wafer-thin especially on the story side but the music is very entertaining and will keep your toes tapping for most of its 149 minute running time. Below is the 'Hey Big Spender' dance number.

SONG OF NORWAY (1970) Starring Florence Henderson Toralv Maurstad music by Robert Wright and George Forest, based upon the music of Edvard Grieg. This was an attempt to cash in on the success of 'The Sound of Music', but it is a very pale imitation. Harry Secombe, who had a supporting part commented later that "Song of Norway is the kind of film you can take the kids to see....and leave them there" and he's not far wrong. Shot on location, the only thing spectacular about this is the scenery. I simply do not remember the music, because it was that awful. A supposed biography of Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg, who wrote 'In the Hall of the Mountain King', this is really terrible. It didn't make a nickel and everybody hated it. 'Song of Norway' is by far the worst musical on this list. It deserves its obscurity and if any single film is to blame for the decline of the musical, this must surely be it. No previews of this one, you may not be able to take it. I know I couldn't.

FINIAN'S RAINBOW (1968) Starring Fred Astaire Petula Clark Tommy Steele, music by Burton Lane. 'Finian's Rainbow' is a harmless piece of whimsy, unkindly described by one critic as a 'cheesy, joyless thing'. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola, it is difficult to believe that this is as disappointing as it is, but it is. Warners had the rights to the stage play for twenty years, and hoping for musicals to have a resurgence, Jack Warner got back into the dangerous waters of predicting audience interest after the success of 'My Fair Lady', but this may have been a miscalculation. Petula Clark is the best thing in it, she has a lovely voice and a warm personality on-screen and was well-known at the time for pop hits such as 'Don't Sleep in the Subway' and 'Downtown'. This was Fred Astaire's last dancing role and critics complained that he looked too old. Tommy Steele plays Og the leprechaun and he may be energetic, but it is tiring to watch. I thought the story was convoluted when I saw it as a youngster and there is a racial sub-text which the Wiki page labels 'pre-Civil rights' in its depiction of race relations, and I'm inclined to agree. The fantasy aspects of the plot never quite merge to make the film a whole, and it just comes across as simply unbelievable. The songs include 'Old Devil Moon', 'Look to the Rainbow' and 'How are Things In Glocca Mora'. The film was partially choreographed by Astaire's long-time collaborator Hermes Pan who was fired by Coppola before the film was finished. See Petula Clark sing 'Old Devil Moon' below.

Wake Me Up I'm Dreaming! Some Good Parallel Universe Movies

2012-03-14T14:21:00.000+11:00

It could be argued that parallel universes are the ones we aren’t supposed to be living in ourselves, because to some, reality is merely what we think it is -- but such a premise is not very scientific. If anything the possibility of universes existing beside our own sustains fiction more than it does provable fact, which is not to denigrate the possibility. Merely to suggest that reality is sometimes what Hollywood says it is. And THAT is very disturbing, when you think about it. This is a list of some movies that I like, because they focus on the possibility that our reality is not the only reality that may exist. Unfortunately it seems to be only mentally ill people who suffer the most from this delusion, that is, if it is a delusion. H.P. Lovecraft didn’t think so. But then again, he was crazy.

The Forgotten (2004) When Roger Ebert gives a movie the thumbs down, I usually take notice, but with ‘The Forgotten’ his bad review unintentionally tweaked my interest. Normally wary (as well as weary) of the ‘You must believe me I’m not mad’ or the ‘You must believe me I’m not guilty’ [cue Hitchcock] genre of misunderstood heroes, ‘The Forgotten’ convinced me to suspend my disbelief in its first half hour. I can’t speak for anyone else really. I guess I’m just gullible. I believe what Julieanne Moore says, and what she’s going through. I also enjoyed putting the boot into all of the [male] characters, who are either deliberately contradicting her, or trying to put her away. I’m not making a case for it as the best movie ever made, but director Joseph Ruben, writer Gerald DiPego and the entire cast put their heart and soul into making the story as believable as possible. Ruben previously directed ‘The Stepfather’. It was pretty good and I think that ‘The Forgotten’ has that same dogged intention to make the audience consider the possibility that what they are watching could maybe happen. What ‘The Forgotten’ lacks in veracity, it makes up for in courage and panache, and to me that can’t be a higher recommendation.

The Others (2001) This is the scariest ghost movie since ‘the Innocents’, and has a lot going for it. It’s written with a great deal of imagination. Its leisurely paced (but in a good way), good to look at and in a nutshell, turns the scary ghost movie on its head. The plot twists do not become stale with further viewing – they still surprise me when I’ve actually seen them before which encourages me to watch the movie again with the same sense of anticipation. The viewer is for the most part as lost as Grace Stewart, played by Nicole Kidman, who is living in a large house on the island of Jersey in the closing years of the second world war. She is expecting her soldier husband to return home, while she is left alone with her children, and a strange trio of servants whom we are left to wonder what they in fact, are doing in the movie. To say any more would be spoiling this bizarre foray into a parallel universe that confounds the viewer as much as the characters. But that’s just part of ‘The Others’ eerie charm and its pervading sense of mystery that has the viewer caught off-guard till the denouement which is as tragic as it is convincing. Directed by Alejandro Amenabar.

Johnny Depp's dressing gown is wonderful

Secret Window (2004). There’s an excellent set-up by writer/director David Koepp in the first hour, which loses momentum by the end, as it tries to tie up its loose ends a bit too neatly. At least for my liking. Koepp’s affection for ‘Psycho’ and ‘Repulsion’ is apparent. Comparisons to Polanski’s acclaimed fable of mental illness would be unfair but ‘Secret Window’ is reasonably smart and scary, as it attempts to portray its main character’s descent into a parallel universe, which I think would question the nature of madness itself if it wasn’t for the film’s predictable descent into slice-and-dice by the conclusion. Johnny Depp is believable and surprisingly subdued as Mort Rainey, a writer of mystery stories who is being stalked by a demonic kind of fan who doesn’t like him very much. The other supporting players are a little off kilter themselves, which makes the audience uneasy about the veracity of anything that seems to be going on in the strange town of Tashmore Lake, where things are not as they appear. [Cue for raised eyebrows and creepy organ music].

Carnival of Souls (1962) I voted for this when I first went on-line, as the best independent horror movie ever made, and I see no reason to think differently now. Director Herk Harvey appears in his own film as an apparition stalking our heroine Mary Henry, played by Candace Hilligoss, a church organist who emerges unscathed from a car which drives off a bridge in which she was passenger. The ‘passenger’ metaphor is continued, as Mary’s dilemma consists of being aware that life and the living of it does not last forever. There is definitely something strange going on, as she drifts in and out of what we would like to call ‘conventional reality’. ‘Carnival of Souls’ weaves its spell on the most jaded viewer as it draws us into its vortex of uncertainty and impending panic. The audience is offered little explanation until the end, but frankly I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I unabashedly love ‘Carnival of Souls’, even the budget Region 0 version that I own without special features, and I wouldn’t trade it in for a hundred Matrixes, Minority Reports or Inceptions

My what a big hypodermic you have. The doctor from hell.

Jacob’s Ladder (1990). The brainchild of writer Bruce Joel Rubin. ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ spent years in development hell, but I think the wait was worth it. Taken with a grain of salt on first release, the film rises in estimation with repeated viewings. In other words, ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ is the kind of film that digital technology was made for, and I think it’s as perfect as a movie can be, about the possibility of an alternative or parallel reality which exists outside our own dimension. Jacob Singer as played by Tim Robbins returns home from Vietnam and works as a postman. His existence is not as mundane as it seems, as Jacob begins to have hallucinations. What really happened to him in Vietnam? The hallucinations get worse as director Adrian Lynne pulls out all the stops with amazing visuals that are so real we can understand what Jacob is feeling, and it is certainly alarming. Elizabeth Pena plays girlfriend Jezzie without giving the story away, and Danny Aiello is an osteopath without a halo, telling Jacob he must give up his memories in order to journey on up the ladder. I found, and still find ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ a riveting experience, sympathetically played, beautifully presented, and a satisfying example of Hollywood commerciality at its noblest and most artistic.

NOTE: Roger Ebert’s review of ‘The Forgotten’ may be online. I haven’t checked because it’s included in one of his yearbooks: Roger Ebert’s Movie Year Book 2007, Kansas, pp. 241-242. I haven’t quoted or even paraphrased, but used it as a jumping-off point for my own ideas. It certainly makes for a good read even if like me, you kind of enjoy the film unlike Roger.

Shoot first, ask questions later: Some great rogue cop movies

2012-02-20T17:43:00.000+11:00

A random rogue cop: Emile Meyer in Sweet Smell of Success at right.
'Come here Sidney - I want to chastise you.'

I sometimes think that rogue cops are the most interesting characters in movies. Often they are vile, usually corrupt, but always compelling. In their moral...er, abstruseness, they give the audience a sense of existing vicariously on the edge without the bruises, the stress, the heart condition and the alcoholism to prove it.

Let's face it, blanket approval of the rule of authority can get a bit tedious to watch. Rogue cop films fill the vacuum between movies which expect us to go hurrah when some poor sucker gets nabbed, and those that make us angry when an obvious injustice has occurred because of a corrupt system. Court-room films for example can bristle with their sense of injustice, but somehow getting a big guy to do your dirty work for you can be far more effective than presenting a case in a courtroom where you could possibly lose.

Made to look in from the outside because of their sheer imperviousness to rules and regulations, and because of their psychotic devotion to a sense of law and order all their very own, rogue cop justice is dished out without fear or favour to suspects whether they happen to be guilty of a crime or not. The rogue cop is a law unto himself, and sometimes a creature that we are meant to show a certain amount of sympathy for. After all, isn't he just performing a civic responsibility which we lack the nerve to perform ourselves? I sometimes feel a distinct sense of moral twilight coming over me when asked to sympathise with a violent, incorrigible overage delinquent who roughs up suspects, indulges in bribery, plants evidence, and thinks that he can get away with it. But hey, that's just me.

The occupational hazards of police corruption. Was Sterling Hayden a
rogue in 'The Godfather?' You be the judge.

If the viewer leaves his/her politically correct values at the door, he/she can indulge in a nostalgic sense of longing for a time when the police arrived on your doorstep immediately you called them. When crime was a simple case of personal assault or theft. When, in a nutshell, the police were the good guys and the criminals were the bad guys, and all remained well with the world for this particular demarcation.

The following films will leave no room for doubt that rogue cops have an underlying appeal to audiences who respond to their viscerality when the rest of us, in their place, would be considering the implications of our actions, and the conundrum which arises. Should we blame the cop for his moral weakness, or the system for its inability to stay pure in the face of ultimate compromise? That is the burning question for most films that feature rogue cops as their main protaganist.

Notes on some boundaries of this list.

*Russell Crowe gives a great performance in L.A. Confidential but is redeemed by the love of a good woman by the end of the film so he doesn’t count.

Clint may be cool, but Dirty Harry isn't included.
You could however, check out 'Tightrope'.

* Gary Oldman gives a good performance as a rogue cop in Romeo Is Bleeding, but it’s a crummy film I wouldn’t recommend to anybody that I liked.

* He makes so many movies that I could be wrong, but I don’t think Christopher Walken has ever played a policeman. But it's been a long career filled with a generous share of low lifes. He makes a great drill sergeant in ‘Biloxi Blues’. So you could check that out.

*You may question my omission of Harvey Keitel in ‘Bad Lieutenant’, but he’s a bit too much of a rogue if you get my meaning. The film is strictly for adults only and is something I shouldn't admit to even seeing because it could get me into trouble.

*Clint Eastwood works so hard to make his ‘dirty harry’ persona appear to be a cog within the system, that I never envisioned the character as an outsider, so I also haven’t included the initial film, ‘Magnum Force’ (which I actually prefer over the original), or the other sequels to the series, whose names have, down the years, totally escaped me.

*Sterling Hayden deserves an honourable mention for his performance as the corrupt policeman in 'The Godfather' but his screen time is minimal -- unfortunately, as I would have liked to see an entire back story devoted to his character. But that was not to be, and we are left with a portrait of depraved authority. Hayden tells the made men how to run their business, resulting in his demise at the hands of an emerging godfather far more ruthless and brutal than the one he has been used to dealing with. So say goodbye, Sterling.

On Dangerous Ground (1952) Detective Jim Wilson played by Robert Ryan. Directed by Nicholas Ray

Robert Ryan stars as a rogue cop on the edge of sanity, working the city streets where he roughs up suspects in order to get an arrest with no qualms about how unethical his behaviour may be. His superior, wary at the prospect of being responsible should his 'unconventional' methods be revealed, banishes Ryan to a mountain locale where the hunt is on for a suspected killer. Unbenownst to Ryan, the killer is being protected by somebody closest to him. Ryan is humanised by his relationship with a blind woman (Ida Lupino) and attempts to distance himself from the depraved life he's led in the city.

Charitably described by David Shipman as a "disillusioned, fist-happy cop", Detective Jim Wilson is portrayed by Ryan as alternately psychotic and sympathetic, with nothing much in between. The VHS which I was privileged to see a number of years ago looked like a transfer of an old television print, but after conducting some research online, I discovered that this is the way the film was originally photographed. To me, it seemed almost soft-focused, unlike many noir titles with their expressionistic lighting and attention-getting contrasts.

An appealing mixture of downright dirty police procedural and poetic realism, 'On Dangerous Ground' does a plot about-turn at its half-way mark, but remains a unique introduction to the rogue cop (sub) genre and is as good a way as any to tune into the many other film noir titles of the 1950's. An interesting review of 'On Dangerous Ground' is available here.

Touch of Evil (1958) Detective Hank Quinlan played by Orson Welles. Directed by Orson Welles

'If you're mean enough to steal from the blind, help yourself'. Charlton Heston
plays a Mexican drug enforcement officer in 'Touch of Evil'.

A noir with the unmistakeable Welles brain propelling it into action, 'Touch of Evil's critical reputation has increased with the years and rightly so. Orson Welles directs himself as a sociopath whose venality knows no bounds, but is nonetheless human in his monstrousness.

Since expecting some kind of social commentary to magically emerge in '50s movies would be unfair, I think that our modern, more moralistic expectations of a corrupt system being exposed is not entirely satisfied by this film. Instead we are led down a labyrinth of personal evil on the part of Quinlan, whose corruption began to decay him as a human being long before the story began. That's not to say that the repressive social structure which Quinlan represents is not always present. Quinlan is a lackey of American imperialism, reluctantly sharing his border with a less economically prosperous and much needier partner which, as an American, he has no choice but to resent.

The calm before the storm. Janet Leigh's denouement comes
later.

Hank Quinlan is nobody's idea of a cultural ambassador or positive role model in law enoforcement. What he seems to represent to Welles, who never portrayed the wheels of justice in a positive light, (see 'Lady from Shanghai'), is the unredeemed individual who can blame nobody but himself for his corruption and his inability to any longer protect himself from accusations of bribery, dishonesty and murder. Honest individuals are needed for the system to function, and this is the only way for corruption to be stamped out. Welles gives a towering performance filled to the brim with menace and regret, and receives excellent support from Charlton Heston, Akim Tamiroff, Janet Leigh, Marlene Dietrich and Mercedes McCambridge. For Charlton Heston's stories on the making of 'Touch of Evil', you can click right here.here

The French Connection (1971) Detective Popeye Doyle played by Gene Hackman. Directed by William Friedkin

Popeye waves goodbye to his bust, an ironic commentary that only the
connection will understand

A documentary with a noir sensibility made in colour, 'The French Connection' is a hard-hitting suspense thriller concerning a policeman's pursuit of the greatest drug bust in history. Gene Hackman's portrayal of Popeye Doyle is based upon the exploits of a real-life police partnership between Eddie Egan and Sonny Grosso (Buddy Russo in the film as played by Roy Scheider).

Popeye Doyle hates drug pushers -- he sees himself on the side of the angels, but he does unfortunately use somewhat questionable tactics. On a hunch, the partners begin to tail a small-time hoodlum and his wife living in Brooklyn, where they uncover a million dollar drug deal dependent on the approval of payment to the French connection of the title.

Set personnel rugged up for one of New York's worst
winters in living memory.

Doyle is a bit of a duffer in his funny hat -- he fancies himself as a ladies man, but doesn't have many social graces. What he knows how to do is his job which is to catch criminals, unrelenting in his purpose. The hunch turns out to have credence, but questions throughout the film arise as to the methods the partners are using and an audience perception that Doyle is merely a thug out to convict a man because of his cultural difference.

Aside from these existential meanderings, the film has a number of spectacular set pieces including an attempted shooting at a housing estate, and a car chase involving a train that is one of the most exciting ever committed to film. I find 'The French Connection' to be neutral-free in the way it portrays every-day police work and its portrayal of Doyle leaves little room for questions of guilt or conscience. The man is what he is, and in the pre-Miranda era, he's a guy that you'd like to have on your side. The fact that he's a thug is not glossed over, so much as left to audience expectation as to whether it makes much of a difference to the conclusion of the story. Which I suppose, makes it glossed over after all.

The Offence (1973) Detective Sergeant Johnson played by Sean Connery. Directed by Sidney Lumet

Made as part of a deal with United Artists in return for Sean Connery consenting to make his last James Bond film after an absence of five years, 'The Offence' (aka 'Something Like the Truth') has languished as a film made by an important star and a prominent director which never received a proper release in the United States. This shabby treatment of 'The Offence' begs a lot of questions regarding the rise of digital technology which I won't go into right now. But this does not detract from that fact that it's an awesomely fine movie which will eventually find its audience after many years of being neglected.

Living in interrogation hell. Det. Johnson goes through the
motions

Detective Johnson is a riveting character with all the necessary criteria to be classed as one of the great rogue cops of modern cinema. A demon to work with and a home life which exists but is not the least bit bearable, Johnson is a man obviously at the end of his tether. Working on a child molestation case, he cracks and kills the suspect, a nerdy and unconventional man who goads him into looking at himself before condemning anyone else to a life of punishment and mortification in prison. The guilt or innocence of the suspect (played by Ian Bannen) becomes irrelevant, as Johnson himself is put on trial by his conscience and his almost disturbing self-awareness that his past has most surely caught up with him.

Sean Connery seems energised by the exceedingly well-written material and Trevor Howard and Vivien Merchant give able support to a majestic performance of dessication, loneliness and despair as interpreted by Connery. The criminal justice system is itself put under the microscope and left severely wanting, and the audience is left with a bereft feeling of being cheated of justice because of the shortcomings of the practitioners. This is a must-see movie which will one day take its place as an exemplary example of film-making, with its astounding central performance and its insights into the meaning of justice and the human condition.

Q&A (1990) Detective Lieutenant Mike Brennan played by Nick Nolte. Directed by Sidney Lumet

This is another Sidney Lumet entry, with Nick Nolte receiving the acting honours as Mike Brennan, a decorated New York cop with an impeccable reputation, who the audience sees within the opening minutes of the film shooting a man outside a nightclub. The suspense arises from his colleagues discovering that he is not the honourable cowboy they have been always led to believe, mainly from his record of convictions and his forthright demeanour. After the body is discovered, a conventional investigation is called by the DA's office, but this is only meant to clear Brennan from any wrong doing and close the case. Brennan becomes increasingly jittery as circumstances arise where not only his judgment, but his character is questioned over the incident.

Cop turned assistant DA Al Reilly (Timothy Hutton), in the manner of most cops, is reluctant to railroad his former colleague, but evidence of wrong-doing remains. The New York police force is struggling with racism within its own ranks, and Brennan appears to be a dinosaur from another era, who shoots first, roughs up suspects at the faintest provocation and is gun-happy to boot. He has become an embarrassment. Colleagues Valentin, a Latino (Luis Guzman), and Chapman, an African-American (Charles Dutton), have their loyalty to Brennan exploited by the system and by Brennan himself until it becomes obvious they can no longer stand by him.

Nick Nolte gives a great performance, recalling Hank Quinlan as a man of little scruple and monstrous in his venality. A good-old-boy chewing the fat with his colleagues as he waits to be interviewed by the investigation, Brennan appears to not be the least bit concerned about the Q&A. That is, until its too late for his soul.

An annoying sub-plot concerning Reilly's love life is only necessary in that it brings into the plot Bobby Texador, (Armand Assante) married to Reilly's ex-girlfriend and not at all happy that he's been included in the proceedings. All performers mentioned are excellent, but are somewhat overshadowed by this dark, enigmatic and menacing figure that is Mike Brennan. Perhaps not as deep as it would like to be, Q&A is an entertaining police procedural with a performance from Nick Nolte that is great to watch and highly recommended.

Training Day (2001) Detective Alonzo Harris played by Denzel Washington. Directed by Antoine Fuqua

Alonzo sizing up Jake. It's not complimentary.

'Training Day' is exactly what it's name suggests -- a day in the life of a rookie LAPD cop Jake Hoyt (Ethan Hawke), who wants to join the narcotics unit of Detective Alonzo Harris (Denzel Washington). You could call it a pretty long day, because Alonzo makes no bones about showing the newcomer what he's in for, and what life is like on the mean streets of East L.A. Summing up Jake on their first meeting in a restaurant where Alonzo is miffed at being interrupted from reading his newspaper, we can clearly see that Jake could well be out of his depth with this street-savvy narcotics officer who seems to have seen it all, and done it all. Our sympathy goes out to Jake.

What follows is a series of tacky events mainly involving drugs, money, and murder in which Alonzo tests Jake to see what kind of mettle this white boy is made of. The fact is, Alonzo has been messing with the wrong people and his superiors are not happy with him. Jake does not realise this until its's too late for Alonzo, but not too late for Jake.

Who's the boss. Detective Alonzo Harris, that's who.

'Training Day' is a really terrific film that takes the viewer on a roller-coaster ride of emotions -- mainly anger, fear, sadness, exhilaration and finally resignation. A dire sense of fatalism is somehow balanced out by the marvellous character study of Alonzo. Denzel Washington's portrayal of a cop, a rogue on the outside for the very reason he is a walking time-bomb, is sensational. Washington deserved his 2001 Best Actor Oscar with bells on, he is so good you just have to see the nefarious dealings this character gets up to, and it's a great ride.

There aren't a lot of other characters with speaking parts, mainly the suspects whom Alonzo either shakes down, or beats up. Scott Glenn is superb in a small but very important role and he makes his mark. Macy Gray makes her debut in movies and I was also impressed by the realism of her performance. Tom Berenger, Raymond J. Barry and Harris Yulin play the Troika who seem to hold sway over Alonzo, and are suitably sinister puppet-masters, but shown only long enough to make their presence felt in a very effective way.

'Training Day' has a lot of things going for it, and as a study in rogue police behaviour, it may be a template for the next century or so. I really loved it.

Dark Blue (2003) Detective Eldon Perry played by Kurt Russell. Directed by Ron Shelton

I was taken aback by 'Dark Blue' when I first saw it. It had been hyped a bit, and often I take that to mean that because something's not very good, the powers that be have to make a noise about it. But with 'Dark Blue' the hype was justified.

'Dark Blue' is an excellent police procedural and uses as its backdrop events leading up to the Los Angeles riots of 1992. I like this sly combination of fact and fiction, and it actually has a point to it, which is to heighten the drama and make what's going on look far more factually correct than it may have been otherwise. Saying that something has a 'documentary feel' to it is such a cliche, but if it's done subtly the viewer hardly notices, which is, I think, the best way to go about things.

As played by Kurt Russell, Eldon Perry does not have a lot to complain about. He has a good job, and a wife waiting for him at home in the suburbs. Unfortunately, he has a demanding boss in the form of Jack Van Meter (Brendan Gleeson), who treats Perry as his personal attack dog. Anything arriving at Van Meter's desk that's gross, he only has to call on Perry to do it, and it's done. Perry and his younger partner are called in to investigate a combination murder/robbery at a convenience store. Van Meter nominates a couple of suspects. Perry first goes along with this, until he realises that Van Meter is lying, and what follows is a messy descent into double-cross and ultimately murder.

The riot's already started, and I haven't collected my badge yet! Shucks...

Naturally, all is not what it seems with Perry's personal and professional life. He is not married happily, and like Hank Quinlan, is beyond redemption because the corruption of his spirit has been going on for an eternity. (Or at least before the film started). But what happens is surprising. Perry attends a promotions ceremony and at the podium in front of a big crowd, implicates Van Meter for his corrupt behaviour. The character's sarcasm, and self-loathing are brought to bear in an amazing speech that thankfully rises above self-pity. Perry's dislikeability is made bearable by his decision to to take a certain amount of responsibility for the years of racism and neglect that have turned Los Angeles into a riot zone.

Kurt Russell is wonderful in a part that he just eats up, and 'Dark Blue' is definitely his show. A lot of supporting characters are around but they don't make a big impact and their sub-plots are not as interesting to watch as Perry's character arc. Scott Speedman as Bobby, Perry's partner, seems a bit overwhelmed as the moral centre of the film, and Ving Rhames doesn't have much to do as the black officer who hates Van Meter and everything he stands for.

Despite these reservations, 'Dark Blue' is very good in almost every other department, and Kurt Russell has a well-deserved place in the rogue's gallery of out-of-control policemen. Congratulations, Kurt!

Democrats Beaten Back by the Waves of History: Is Rapprochement with Iran a Possibility?

2012-01-31T13:33:00.001+11:00

Outside the American embassy after a mission to rescue hostages failed

January 20th 2012 marked the 31st anniversary of the release of the American hostages held in Iran. 52 people were held for a total of 444 days in Teheran's American embassy, as the world (ie America and its allies) -- to coin a cliche, -- 'held its breath'. In retrospect, it was a somewhat significant period of time to be 'holding one's breath'. A botched rescue mission by the name of Operation Eagle Claw, in which eight military personnel and one Iranian were killed, buried the Democrats at the 1980 elections, when the Republicans had a landslide victory, returning them to office after the disgrace of the Watergate years. Incumbent Ronald Reagan was set up and ready instead to welcome back the hostages when they finally returned. The hostage crisis was a symptom of the severe lack of trust between the growing opposition movement to the Shah in Iran and the western powers, who seemed to believe they had the right of sovereignty in Middle Eastern affairs, but actually showed an appalling ignorance when it came to comprehending the aspirations of its people.

Burning an effigy of Uncle Sam outside U.S. embassy in Tehran

Despite the fact that it actually happened, revolution in Iran was far from the thoughts of the western powers. United States interference in Iranian affairs had long been resented by the predominantly shi'ite population going back at least to 1953. A a coup backed by the United States and Britain, installed Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, Shah of Iran as absolute monarch, in direct contravention to the sovereignty of the democratically elected government of Mohammed Mosaddeqq. The Shah of Iran was a Middle East strongman of my parents' generation. His position had always been compromised by his blind adherence to the United States who were after all, responsible for his sudden influence in world affairs. He was blatantly anti-democratic and kept an autocrat's eye on what his people thought of him through a repressive domestic spy network known as the SAVAK. With the same sense of unreality that we have become used to recently, the Shah had no idea what his people really thought of him, and when the Iranian revolution happened, it came as a shock not only to the rest of the world, but also to the Shah himself.

Decades of interference, both overt and covert, had convinced the west that any kind of uprising to get rid of the Shah did not exist, even within the realms of possibility. Opposition to the Shah's rule within Iran was dismissed by the CIA in a report which stated only months beforehand that Persia 'was not even in a pre-revolutionary situation'. In his New Year's Eve toast in 1978 President Carter issued the immortal words, 'under the Shah's brilliant leadership Iran is an island of stability.'

An American flag set on fire by Iranian protesters

When the hostage situation emerged, American president Jimmy Carter appeared to not grasp the seriousness of the situation, at least not to the voters at home. The hostages were returned safely, but the damage to the self-esteem of the Democrats has probably not been adequately calculated. Domestically, the deterioration of the relationship between Iran and the United States became a political issue in the 1980's that both Democrats and Republicans used to enhance their chances of getting elected. Consequently neither party escaped with much in the way of integrity, much less public credibility.

The Reagan administration was plagued (at least in its second term), by the possibility of the public finding out about a number of arms for hostages deals. Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North of the staff of the National Security Council gave the go-ahead to take twelve million dollars from arm sales to Iran, and give the money to the contra 'freedom' fighters in Nicaragua. This was pointedly against all protestations from Reagan that he absolutely and categorically refused to negotiate with terrorists and that any arms for hostages deal was out of the question. [1]. An ongoing scandal for the Republicans with a Democrat congress to contend with, the exact role of President Reagan in the scandal was never properly delineated, and will probably never be known.

One of many spontaneous mass demonstrations against the Shah

The Concluding Observations of the Walsh Iran/Contra report state that the Congress was unwilling to engage with a popular president and his executive in order to find out the truth. In doing so, Congress accepted the concept of a conspiracy by subordinate officers, so they could eliminate the need for the testimony of President Reagan and Vice President Bush. Congress was essentially defrauded, and was erroneously led to believe that the administration was acting within the law. Despite a fighting, all-American image the Republicans enjoyed promoting, Reagan's image was tainted both at home and abroad. Arms for hostages deals appeared to initiate more terrorism, and the United States could no longer claim the moral high ground against other nations who refused to make concessions to terrorists and their demands.

With a regime change in 1992, President Bill Clinton appealed to many as a progressive who would perhaps reach out to Iran in a show of friendship (with of course the necessary conditions.) As with most centre-left parties in western democracies, the Democrats had to worry about managing to stay in power, once they were elected. They had to tread carefully with the voters in order not to seem indifferent to matters of national security. They had to appear resourceful, and able to take the initiative when it came to protecting the country's interests abroad. Yet the bellicosity of the Republicans did not seem to work for them. They had to forge an image which enhanced their ability at making the peace, at reaching out and achieving some kind of dialogue with nations whose customs and religious beliefs were less comprehensible to them than others, in an area of the world as important economically as it was politically.

Reagan receiving the Tower Commission report c1987

Clinton was at first stolid in his refusal to negotiate with Iran issuing Executive Orders 12957 and 12959, banning all trade between the two countries.It could be questioned whether these orders were meant to stand or were merely symbolic of a president who was inexperienced in foreign affairs. In the late 1990's an apology for the 1953 CIA coup was placed on the table and it seemed that the Democrats were on cue to resume necessary diplomatic relations which had been revoked since the hostage crisis. However, an apology from the Iranians for the hostage crisis was not forthcoming in return. The executive orders were not rescinded but communications had at least been restored by a combination of private negotiation and a desire to officially attempt to ease tensions between the two countries.

With a Democrat President currently in office, the rhetoric of the hawks with their itchy trigger fingers is balanced by a more prudent and rational discourse, as the United States attempts to balance national security pre-occupations with its international responsibilities and its revisionist stance to right the wrongs of the disreputable regime that came before the current administration. Neither political party has had much success in breaking through the institutionalised antipathy that America and Iran feel for each other. But that isn't to say that it won't happen, and in the process save the world from a confrontation that may be too dreadful to contemplate.

[1] Bob Woodward, Shadow: Five Presidents and the Legacy of Watergate, New York, Simon & Schuster, 1999, Ch. 10, p. 110.

The Wonder Years. When Celebrities Were Interesting

2012-01-17T19:25:00.000+11:00

Here are some images of my favourite celebrity couples from the late sixties and early seventies. In those days they knew how to party, get married, get divorced, and manage their careers all at the same time. The beauty of it was they didn't pontificate, and even if they did, we didn't mind because we knew they weren't on the take. And they didn't 'take' themselves too seriously -- they were grateful for their privileged position, and were generous enough to make their lives entertaining for the rest of us. Without rubbing our noses in it.

I'm including Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller, because they seem such an interesting pair, although people at the time thought of them as kind of mismatched. Beauty versus the Brains, and all that. Well, they must have been, because their marriage ended in divorce before Marilyn's tragic death in 1962.

That seems to be a dog Elizabeth Taylor is holding. And it looks like she's also wearing the Hope diamond. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were larger than life, and as a child, I really loved them. Still do.

Sean Connery visits wife Diane Cilento on the set of 'Hombre' circa 1966, with director Martin Ritt. Diane Cilento recently passed away, but she was, and still is, beautiful. They made a handsome couple.

Beauty and the Bald -- I mean beast. Frank Sinatra and Mia Farrow were married briefly in the late sixties. This pairing made for some head-scratching. It was like -- 'but why?' Age difference aside, they seemed to get along. At least until they realised they'd made a mistake and parted amicably.

Princess Margaret was the Royal rebel, and when it was revealed she was 'holidaying' with boyfriend Roddy Llewellyn on her private island, it caused a bit of a stir. Naturally, a lot of us loved it, and thought 'good on you', but they were never married, and must have parted amicably.

Aristotle Onassis and Jacqueline Kennedy was another pairing that had curious onlookers scratching their heads. Onassis always kept a low profile, but he was very rich, and had known his future wife when she was First Lady. The public love affair with Mrs Onassis continued, despite trouble with the paparazzi, which seemed to make the public adore her even more than when she was First Lady.

Terence Stamp and Julie Christie starred together in 'Far From the Madding Crowd' and this is a still from that film. They were immortalised by the Kinks song 'Waterloo Sunset' with the lines 'Terry meets Julie/at waterloo station/every friday night'. Everyone naturally assumed that The Kinks were singing about them. They were both young, good-looking and talented, and the press ate it up.

Singer/songwriters James Taylor and Carly Simon got together and became the royalty of American popular music. Taylor had a massive hit with 'Fire and Rain' and Simon had a big album on her hands with 'No Secrets'. This was around 1972. They retired into domestic bliss, and stayed together till 1983, when they were divorced. Which is sad when you think about it.

Steve McQueen and Ali McGraw met on the set of 'The Getaway', a heist film directed by Sam Peckinpah. Both of them were married to other people at the time, but that didn't seem to be a problem. They got divorces to be with each other. Both of them were gorgeous and it was fun while it lasted.

Jean Shrimpton was an English model who caused a sensation when she wore a mini-skirt to the 1965 Melbourne Cup in Australia. Terence Stamp was a promising young actor, and they both look great in this picture, photographed by Terry O'Neill.

Warren Beatty and Julie Christie were reticent to talk about their relationship. They were apparently together for a number of years, were politically active on behalf of the Democratic party, and made a number of movies together, including 'McCabe and Mrs Miller', 'Shampoo' and 'Heaven Can Wait'. The press respected their privacy, as they parted, and forged their careers separately.

Vanessa Redgrave and Franco Nero became parents without the benefits of marriage. Despite a lot of blather about how tolerant everyone was supposed to be in those days, it surely must have come at some cost to them both. Vanessa Redgrave has always commanded respect, no matter what she's done, so I suppose there was no harm done to their careers.

Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward seemed like the perfect Hollywood couple. In actual fact, they lived on the East coast, devoting themselves to charity work and bringing up their children. They were also politically active, when it wasn't the fashionable thing to be doing. Newman campaigned for Eugene McCarthy and got a mention on a list of celebrities whom president Richard Nixon wished would keep quiet. Something he must surely have relished.

John Lennon was also someone that a lot of us really loved, and it was heartbreaking when he died. John and Yoko were made for each other. People at first, didn't understand the attraction, but they made their presence felt with a big contribution to the on-going public opposition over the war that was going in in Vietnam. Their concern for their fellow man was sincere and heartfelt, and Yoko still carries on to this day, a strong and urgent reminder to the rest of us not to be so complacent.

Movie Review -- Lady Caroline Lamb (1972)

2012-01-14T09:31:00.000+11:00

‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ may not be the greatest movie ever made, but I happen to like it. Very much. It’s about the tempestuous love affair between Lady Caroline Lamb, (the wife of Lord Melbourne), and the poet Lord Byron. My senior English class was taken to see ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ at the pictures by an over-zealous teacher, far too many years ago for me to remember. I don’t recall studying the poetry of Lord Byron at school, so I suspect our teacher was playing hookie with us by proxy.

Sarah Miles as Lady Caroline Lamb

Going to the pictures was a good way of escaping the schoolroom. In our senior year we were allowed the freedom of going to see a movie – any movie -- that had anything remotely to do with what we were studying for exams. I suspect our teacher closed her eyes and used a pin to stab at the local paper’s entertainment page because she wanted a break, but this is only conjecture on my part. Not meaning to sound ungrateful, for I preferred being at the movies to being at school, so I knew she was doing us a favour, whether she thought she was or not.

Based on real-life historical characters, ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ is set in the early 19^th century, during the Napoleonic wars, and the defeat of French forces by the English at Waterloo. Born to the purple in 1785, Lady Caroline Ponsonby married the Hon. William Lamb, heir to the 1^st Lord Melbourne in 1805. In 1812 she embarked on a foolish, but passionate liaison with George Gordon, Lord Byron. In the film, Byron and Caroline’s first meeting is depicted at a bare-knuckle boxing match. These pugilistic events were frequent in Regency England at the time.

a portrait of historical Lady Caroline Lamb

Lord Byron, (played by Richard Chamberlain) gambols into the make-shift ring and promptly disposes of his much larger adversary. Lady Caroline (Sarah Miles) is present. He informs Lady Caroline that he has no money and she invites him to have dinner with her, where he orders a meal of potatoes and vinegar. Hence is the start of their tempestuous relationship, played out against the backdrop of a malicious and disapproving upper-crust society. You’ve never seen a bunch of dislikeable snobs like these before, this side of ‘Age of Innocence’ (1992). But where would a tempestuous relationship be, without a bunch of frustrated socialites clucking their tongues as they spied on you in the background getting on with it?

Lamb’s mother ( Margaret Leighton) is against her son marrying Caroline. Caroline was very much at odds with her society in that she shunned, almost violently so, the sexual hypocrisies of her era. Her downfall appears, at least in the film, to be her lack of ‘discretion’, which let powerful men do what they wished, with the onus being on the woman to keep quiet about what was going on..

Mad, bad, dangerous to know?

William Lamb (Jon Finch) loves his wife through everything, despite her immodest behaviour and inconstancy. He is eventually appointed as ambassador to Ireland, but is told by King George IV (Ralph Richardson) that he should leave his wife behind if he cannot guarantee that she will ‘behave’ properly. (According to Wikipedia, this is not historically accurate.) The film concludes sadly, as a testament to how Byron broke Lady Caroline’s heart, by being ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’, much like Caroline herself.

Firstly, you should watch ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ in its original wide-screen aspect ratio. It looks pretty ravishing. Photographed by Oswald Morris, the rural English countryside is truly picturesque. With Art Direction by Carmen Dillon, its interiors are quite beautiful, and seem truly authentic. If you like lavish costume design, then you may also be in seventh heaven: Sarah Miles looks lovely as she dresses to seduce Lord Byron. That is at least, before being deserted by him.

Historic houses true to the Regency period were used for exterior shots, namely Chatsworth House, home to the (current) Duke and Duchess of Devonshire; Brocket Hall and Wilton House. (They are open to the public at the moment. Just do a Google search.) All three appear to be fully preserved as of 1972 when the film was made and add an atmosphere that is pleasingly authentic as an historic backdrop to the more personal dramas of the protaganists. The musical score by Richard Rodney Bennett is for a full symphony and is by turns melodic with solo viola, and evocative of the romantic era in classical music, the period of Beethoven, Schubert and other great classical composers.

watch the film for an explanation of this still

‘Lady Caroline Lamb’, was written by Robert Bolt, as well as being directed by him. The writer of such epics as Doctor Zhivago, and Lawrence of Arabia, Bolt curbs the historical detail in favour of a closer look at the relationships that Lady Caroline had with her husband, her lover and her society at large.

Laurence Olivier is in the film briefly, playing the Duke of Wellington, but the most interesting thing he does, is wearing what appears to be a false nose. Whilst some people do not like Sarah Miles and find her a little mannered in speech, I think she’s perfectly cast in the lead role. She captures Caroline’s delicacy as well as her iron will to live life on her own terms, which, being two extremely contrasting personality traits, must be a difficult thing for even the most accomplished actress to pull off. She gives herself to the part, which has the viewer sympathising with her through every temper tantrum, when they could be laughing at her. But I think she does well.

The Iron Duke & Caroline in intimate conversation

Jon Finch seems to SHOUT OUT some of his lines, when he should be merely speaking them. Maybe it was a case of being misdirected by a first-time director, but he gives a sympathetic rendering of the lovelorn, but faithful William Lamb. Richard Chamberlain shows a different side to himself as the selfish and indifferent Lord Byron, as he trundles around the edges of the English upper class, rootless, but believing in his talent as a poet, and breaking lots of hearts on his melancholy way to fame and fortune.

As I said at the beginning. ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ is not without its faults, but I also think it has its share of virtues. If you’re looking for an undemanding but solid, romantic costume drama, based on a little bit of history with some good lead and supporting players (I also forgot to mention that John Mills is also in the cast), as well as excellent production values, I recommend ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’.

Great Depression body horror

2012-01-08T17:02:00.001+11:00

As the world struggles with the consequences of economic downturn, the book has not been written yet, that would make the connection between social forces beyond our control, and our continual evolution as a species. Conservatives conveniently ignore the psychological scars left behind by economic uncertainty and a sense of impending apocalypse. They seem to consider themselves the cultural overlords of the general populace, whilst mollifying them that things are not really as bad as they seem. Conservatives consider it their duty in life to explain to us that we are still better off than most others in the world. That our way of life is superior to everyone else’s, as we resign ourselves to a loss of rights, a downturn in our standard of living, and a general sense of malaise as to how it all started in the first place.

People silently observe as the march of scientific progress carries on. They struggle with the spectre of unemployment and the loss of their homes and I would argue that any situation portrayed in a horror film that was meant to be ‘horrifying’ couldn’t possibly scare them. The prospect of economic ruin is horrifying enough, and has struck so close to home, it would seem that the horror movie has become redundant, a joke, and scarcely the kind of ‘art’ thought to be worthwhile. To counter this, I would argue that in fact, the horror genre is the repository for most things our culture refuses to discuss, that is, in a normal, or rational way and is therefore worthy of close attention -- as well as enjoyment.

A rare still of March and Hopkins rehearsing with director Rouben Mamoulian

The discourse of horror contains those things which are brushed aside as being unworthy, simply because they become impossible to think about within the limitations of a more public, or political, mindset. The public and private spheres of our culture very rarely overlap -- our private desires, our fascination with evil, the obsessions we hide from the prying eyes of others , are exactly why horror films exist as a reflection of our more basic instincts. The horror genre was once the doppelganger or uneasy traveller with the sunnier side of acceptable, financially driven, Hollywood-marketed entertainment, and I wish this was still the case. But now, torture is big business, and Hollywood goes where the money is.

Once upon a time, an aesthetic case could be made for the artistic relevance of a good horror movie, and even make a point of its social relevance. Since this is likely to become more problematic, (at least for me, because I refuse to watch the torture porn being made at the moment), I would like to draw the reader’s attention to a number of films released in the 1930’s. They record a humane and understandable reaction to the disaster of the Great Depression as it tossed the world into a cataclysm of uncertainty and economic disaster from 1929 onwards as another world war loomed and the destruction of civilisation seemed more than just a remote possibility. [1]

[1] David J Skal, ‘The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror’, London, Plexus, 1994. See Chapters 5 & 6.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Paramount, (1931), starring Fredric March, Miriam Hopkins, Rose Hobart, screenplay by Samuel Hoffenstein and Percy Heath, directed by Rouben Mamoulian

The re-creation of Stevenson’s epistolary narrative, in order to arrive at the point in time when this film was made, (1931) would make a story in itself. With Miriam Hopkins as Hyde’s unfortunate lady friend, (a character not actually in the book -- as the bad girl) -- and a buttoned –up ( but also quite sexy) Rose Hobart as Jekyll’s fiancée, or the ‘good girl’, a progressive young doctor is fascinated by the notions of good and evil. He concocts an elixir that he imbibes at regular intervals, which turns him into a monster.

Stevenson’s original narrative was inspired by the true-life story of criminal William Deacon Brodie, the son of a prosperous Edinburgh cabinet-maker. Brodie was a notorious criminal, leading a double life until his capture and execution in 1788. [1] Stevenson was inexorably drawn to the darker side of life, a reflection of his Scottish religious tuition. ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ is a moral tale about the risk of expressing the pure evil that exists under the surface of even the best of men. [2] Published to great success in 1885, the late Victorians seemed to twist Stevenson’s narrative around in such a way as to exemplify their facile interpretation of family values. Whilst demonising sex outside of marriage, the hypocrisy was such that the promiscuity of the married Victorian ‘gentleman’ became an open secret. Where he was getting his ‘bit’ on the side –- was at any one of literally thousands of brothels scattered around London. By damning extra-maritial sex as the perpetrator of all that was evil, the Victorians unintentionally brought the social problems they had with prostitution and venereal disease out into the open, which was surely not intentional.[3]

Fredric March becomes progressively more hideous to look at, and his transformations are more alarming to the viewer, coming upon him no longer with any warning, or the need to imbibe an elixir. As an example of early, and perhaps undeveloped ideas about body horror, Rouben Mamoulian’s version of ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ is pertinent. Evil is what tortures Jekyll’s body in the impressive transformation scenes which serve to reveal to the viewer the dual animus of Hyde. He turns into a simian creature with baggy eyes, protruding teeth and unkempt hair, unrecognisable to his friends and associates as the benign and helpful Dr Jekyll. As Hyde, Jekyll leads a secret life in which he emotionally abuses a vulnerable young barmaid (Miriam Hopkins), and commits all kinds of mayhem, to get back at the respectable pillars of London society who have condemned Jekyll’s ideas about the benefits of having the dual nature of humans exposed so they are able to exist side-by-side. Jekyll’s physical torture seems just as chronic as his mental torture, as his evil side is brought out into the open. Not in a religious sense, but in the sense that Mr Hyde is a sociopath with no conscience, nor any moral connection to his fellow man and thus retains his status as an object of physical ugliness.

As with many other 30s horror films, the crazy onward march of science is to blame, with Jekyll debasing his Christian upbringing and believing himself to be some kind of God. Jekyll is punished by being turned into a shambling, ugly, and venal monstrosity, unfit for society and incapable of having a relationship with a ‘decent’ woman. By the end of the film, the status quo of outward good, and internal evil has been restored. Jekyll is redeemed by death, his experiment exposed as a vile offence against God, but his face returning to a calm and self-contained death mask in the last of the sequence of transformations and thus the end of the film. A possible interpretation of Mamoulian’s visualisation of the story could be this, taking into account its year of release in the darkest days of the Great Depression. A form of painful physical transformation is a plausible response to the observances of a corrupt society that permits war and economic inequality to run rampant at the expense of the wider body politic. The sickness of evil should be impossible to externalise as it is a religious problem rather than a scientific one, but once this has occurred the bacteria runs rampant and infects, -- metaphorically at least, -- the entire society.

As a brief footnote, the 1941 remake starring Spencer Tracy is not as highly thought of as this version, primarily because Spencer Tracy in the title role was considered to not look grotesque enough to have the audience believe that he was a monster.

[1] Raymond T. McNally & Radu Florescu, ‘In Search of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ Los Angeles, Renaissance Books. 2000, p. 43; [2] ibid. p. 21; [3] Peter Gay, ‘The Cultivation of Hatred; the bourgeois Experience Victoria to Freud’ London, Fontana Press, 1993.

The Raven, Universal, (1935), starring Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Samuel S. Hinds, Irene Ware, screenplay by David Boehm, (suggested by the poem by Edgar Allan Poe), directed by Louis Friedlander

‘The Raven’ has the dubious honour of being the last genre film to be seen in England when the censor indefinitely banned horror films from being exhibited in that country. ‘The Raven’ was described by one English critic as ‘quite the most unpleasant picture I have ever seen, exploiting cruelty for cruelty’s sake.’[1] ‘The Raven’ is in fact, a watered-down version of ‘The Black Cat’, directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, released by Universal a few years previously. Lacking the artistic panache of Ulmer’s original, ‘The Raven’ is a passable melodrama involving the doings of a mad plastic surgeon with an obsession for a young girl he can never have.

Convict Bateman (Karloff) approaches Dr Vollin (Lugosi) to have his face changed, but does not bargain on his visage actually looking worse than it was before the surgery. Dr Vollin is obsessed with the work of Edgar Allan Poe and plots revenge against Judge Thatcher (Samuel Hinds) for blocking Vollin’s access to his daughter Jean (Irene Ware). Vollin possesses a torture chamber underneath his house where he imprisons Judge Thatcher in homage to the story ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’, which has a protagonist strapped to a table with an enormous swinging pendulum edging closer and closer to his body.

The most effective section of ‘The Raven’ involves the relationship between Bateman and Dr Vollin, as Karloff and Lugosi spar with one another for audience sympathy. As played by Karloff, in a cleverly written role, Bateman is a criminal with a violent history who is no match for the more sophisticated corruption inherent in Dr Vollin’s mindset. Physically unattractive for all of his life, Bateman comes to the conclusion that ‘because I’m ugly, people expect me to do ugly things.’ Vollin finds this philosophically pleasing and performs surgery on Bateman that makes him look even more unattractive for the purposes of blackmail. Lugosi loses out in audience sympathy as more of a cardboard cut-out villain. Vollin’s motivations are obscure, considering the damage he causes, whilst Karloff,because of the mutilation he has been subjected to, is a misunderstood unfortunate, who is no match for the conniving doctor.

Snoozies on the set

Aside from the somewhat prosaic plot mechanics, ‘The Raven’ has some good moments, especially when Lugosi is reciting ‘The Raven’ to a group of onlookers when they are invited to stay at Vollin’s residence for a weekend sleepover that they probably won’t forget in a hurry. In this concluding section of the film, we are reminded of ‘The Old Dark House’ and ‘The Cat and the Canary’, drawing-room melodramas filled with billowing curtains and moving bookcases which hide behind them all manner of grotesqueries and bizarre instruments of torture which exist only in the mind of the viewer, but nonetheless seem very real.

[1] Skal, op. cit., p. 195

Freaks, Metro Goldwyn Mayer, (1932), starring Leila Hyams, Wallace Ford, Henry Victor, Olga Baclanova, Harry and Daisy Earles, Johnny Eck, screenplay by Willis Goldbeck, Leon Gordon, Edgar Allan Woolf, Al Boasberg (based upon the short story ‘Spurs’ by Tod Robbins), directed by Tod Browning

The debate still rages: Is ‘Freaks’ sympathetic to its characters, or is it an exploitation piece only trying to cash-in on their disabilities? ‘Freaks’ portrays the social life of a collection of circus freaks as they tour Europe with a travelling circus. Nothing much happens really, but the viewer becomes a pupil of director Tod Browning, with the film acting as a living testament to their unique world. Hans and his wife (played by Harry and Daisy Earles) are small people performing in the circus. Hans falls in love with acrobat Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova), a large woman who attempts to poison him and steal his fortune, along with her boyfriend circus strongman Hercules (Henry Victor). When the other freaks find out what’s going on, they decide to wreak revenge on behalf of their friends. Notorious for its use of real life circus oddities like Johnny Eck, the Bearded Lady and the Pinheads, ‘Freaks’ tries to wear its heart on its sleeve, but never quite succeeds. Browning wants it both ways for the sake of a good silent melodrama, and the moral tone of the film is left strangely ambivalent.

The most famous sequence in ‘Freaks’ is the banquet scene, in which Hans and Cleopatra are married. When a communal cup is passed around the table for everyone to drink from, Cleopatra refuses to drink; her disgust with the freaks is obvious, and they know they have an enemy in their midst The audience is meant to feel pity for these handicapped characters, but the film takes a nasty tack. Intent on making us believe that the ‘freaks’ are perhaps too vindictive for their own good, an operation is performed on Cleopatra, which turns her into a bird-like creature and she ends up as an exhibit herself.

‘Freaks’ also suffers from a strange case of aesthetic schizophrenia -- it doesn’t know whether it should be a sound, or a silent film. Browning was an acclaimed but controversial director of the silent era, best known for his work with Lon Chaney, who was a master of make-up and physical transformation. [1] He never adapted to the new medium of sound and may have been forcibly retired by his employers at MGM, as a result of his recalcitrance with the new technology. [2] Browning had a problem with sound directorily, as if making people talk in front of the camera made them less mysterious and interesting. Without the silent cards to indicate to the audience what the characters were saying to each other, the mystery dissipates, indicating Hitchcock’s thesis that most sound films are nothing but photographs of people talking to each other.

Because of Browning’s preference for action over dialogue in the tradional language of silent film, the best sequences in ‘Freaks’ (such as the banquet sequence) whilst having dialogue, seem to be shot as if they should be silent. The sequences more dependent on dialogue, for example where Phroso (Wallace Ford) shows Venus (Leila Hyams) his newly thought-out circus trick, are not as graceful and seem to have been heavily edited.

Phroso the clown and Venus are the couple of decent regular-sized people with a sub-plot of their own, but what happens to them seems straight out of the silent film that Browning actually wishes he was making. Sadly it seems to be the shock value of ‘Freaks’ that most people come away with, as opposed to a warm and fuzzy feeling that they are empathising with a group of misunderstood outsiders.

[1] David Thomson, ‘The New Biographical Dictionary of Film, Great Britain, Little Brown, 2000, p. 148; [2] Skal, op.cit. p. 145-59.

Island of Lost Souls, Paramount, (1933), starring Charles Laughton, Bela Lugosi, Richard Arlen, Leila Hyams, screenplay by Philip Wylie and Waldemar Young, (based on the novel The Island of Dr Moreau by H.G. Wells), directed by Erle C. Kenton

‘Island of Lost Souls’ was banned in England for 25 years when it was first release in 1933. I mention this in order to emphasise the degree to which horror movies were marginalised, in this case the story of ‘Island of Lost Souls’ being interpreted as a challenge to the concept of natural law. [1] ‘Island of Lost Souls’ works brilliantly as a classic mad scientist story, a genre involving a subtext which subverts Enlightenment reason with the populist fear of technology run rampant and out of control of the general population.

The story concerns a couple who are shipwrecked (Leila Hyams and Richard Arlen) and arrive on an island where they discover a doctor who is using animals for bizarre reproductive experiments. Doctor Moreau (Charles Laughton) is an autocrat, an English overlord who runs his island as if it was his personal outpost of the British Empire. Moreau keeps his live animal experiments disciplined with a whip, and will not tolerate any transgressions. The animals have been given the promise of social elevation, but this is an illusion. The Sayer of the Law (Bela Lugosi) leads a revolt of the malcontents as they realise that Moreau has been exploiting them all along. [2]. These unfortunate malcontents could be interpreted as the working class of the Great Depression, who had been promised a better life by the American Dream, but were instead thrown out of work by a capitalist system that was collapsing into the abyss, by a combination of corporate greed and a lack of concern for its fellow man.

As his penultimate blasphemy, the doctor attempts to change a female animal into a human woman for breeding purposes and he will perpetuate a new race.

In the late 19^th and earlier 20^th century, eugenics was considered a plausible and respectable science in which the domineering race could choose who would live and who would die within the context of a superior civilisation. But where does this ‘brave new world’ lead to, when no other social contexts were available as a guide, except the fascist regimes of Hitler and Mussolini? Doctor Moreau attempts to play God, like other mad scientists of ‘30s horror films, who overstep their mark and come to believe science is no longer the lapdog of religion, but its superior. Laughton gives the impression that not only is he one of his half animals/half humans, but that his very body, clothed in its white suit, can barely contain his overwhelming impulses and desires. [3] Laughton suggests that the Doctor possesses a perverted life-force in which the act of birth becomes an abomination in the hands of science.

[1] Skal, op.cit., p. 171; [2] ibid. p 169; [3] Simon Callow, Charles Laughton A Difficult Actor, London, Vintage 1987 pp. 54-55.

Where Were You In '62? A Look-Back at 'American Graffiti'

2011-12-27T11:57:00.001+11:00

Where the gang meets: Mel's drive-in

Directed by George Lucas, and produced by Francis Ford Coppola, ‘American Graffiti’ has stood the test of time as an extremely entertaining and enjoyable film. It’s a film that stays with you for life; especially if you first saw it when you were the same age as the characters that are portrayed in the film. You will either remember -- for example -- where you were living, or -- what theatre it was where you first saw it. Or who you saw it with. Or what year of school you were in when you first saw it – trust me: ‘American Graffiti’ has that kind of effect on a receptive audience. Made on a miniscule budget when George Lucas was a struggling film school geek, driven by Francis Coppola’s belief in the project, and featuring a cast, that, with the exception of Ron Howard, no one had ever heard of, I would argue that ‘American Graffiti’ is an ideal example of American independent film at its most vital and creative.

Back in the days before the Ewoks, Princess Leia, or Luke Skywalker existed, George Lucas first wrote a screenplay about a night in the life of a group of teenagers in a small California town. Unfortunately, no studio was remotely interested in his project, and financial backing was difficult to obtain. Finally, with the assistance of Coppola, Universal studios expressed a tentative interest. Thanks to the subsequent collaboration with screenwriters Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz, as well as casting director Fred Roos, Lucas got the green light from a studio that had no confidence in the project, much less any interest in how it would be made, or received by a mass audience. Lucas ploughed ahead anyway, and the result was a totally enchanting portrait of the lives of a group of young Californians against a tantalising backdrop of America’s loss of innocence: the end of the first chapter of American rock and roll, and the beginning of the nightmare of the war in Vietnam. But the greatest enjoyment of ‘American Graffiti’ is that it captures the tentativeness, joy and despair of growing up in a way that doesn’t patronise adolescents. This makes it a virtual fountain of nostalgia for those of us who are older, but remember what it was like to be on the verge of adulthood, believing we had the capacity to achieve anything we chose to do in life.

Built upon a number of storylines which are ‘free-standing’, the film’s narrative structure would today be considered ahead of its time.[1] By free-standing, I mean that there are several self-contained stories within the narrative; a group of two or more characters share the same story, but are not included in others. This prevents audience interest from flagging, with so many things going on, unlike a more enclosed narrative which contains only one story that caters to all of its characters. Hence we have Steve’s story (played by Ron Howard) as he tries to convince Curt to leave ‘this turkey town’ with him, to pursue their lives further on the east coast. Curt (Richard Dreyfuss) has his own story, as he aimlessly wanders the town at night, hitching a ride in the backs of other people’s cars as they cruise around to celebrate the end of the school year. Terry the Toad (Charlie Martin Smith) also has his own story. He is looking after Steve’s car, and picks up a pretty girl named Debbie (Candy Clark) for a night of somewhat downbeat, but funny adventures. John Milner (Paul Le Mat) is the elder of the group, an expert cruiser who complains about the ‘slim pickins’ of the current drag and is finagled into picking up an eleven year old girl who gets him into all kinds of trouble.

Legendary casting director Fred Roos auditioned hundreds of young performers for the main as well as minor parts in ‘American Graffiti’, and apart from Ron Howard, known for his television work, most of the performers were unknown to the audience. This was a stroke of casting genius (or maybe just a matter of not having the budget to pay big salaries to the performers). To have picked better known faces would have compromised the film’s freshness and turned it into a gawking parade with the audience. The film was shot on location in Petaluma, California over 27 nights. There are no daytime scenes at all. A cast member recalls how, after 27 straight nights of shooting it wasn’t hard to act being tired, when everybody actually was – tired. [2]

Terry and Debbie on the prowl for good times

The film was completed properly in post-production. Walter Murch was responsible for the brilliant soundtrack of at least twenty songs from the era that began with the birth of rock and roll to the death of Buddy Holly, the emergence of the Beach Boys, and the pre-dating of the British invasion in the United States. Instead of a regulation score, the music is used in a subjective fashion, in order to gain audience empathy for the emotions of the young characters. [3] The soundtrack becomes an indispensable part of ‘American Graffiti’, in a way that is unthinkable to most other movies, especially those that use mickey-mouse scoring as a way of filling up dead time on-screen.

Universal Studios continued to be un-cooperative with Lucas until it dawned on them that maybe they had a hit on their hands[3] The film-maker arranged private showings and persuaded the lower echelons of Universal to attend. They all loved what they saw and word-of-mouth escalated about the film. ‘American Graffiti’ grew to be one of the biggest moneymakers in the history of the studio. [4] The film’s arrival in Australia for example, was heralded with a lot of publicity, so the studio must have started taking an interest in it. It had done better than expected when it was first released in the United States to mainly positive reviews. [5]

Wolfman Jack without his melted popsicles

Whilst ‘American Graffiti’ was a big hit in its day, I would argue it has become less well known as the years have flown by. George Lucas went onto bigger things; Coppola became embroiled in the making of ‘Apocalypse Now.’ Perhaps its greatest claim to fame has subsequently been the fact that Harrison Ford, who became a famous star, has a very small role, and he became better known than the other cast members who had the larger (or main), roles. Also, because it was so popular on first release, it was not a well-known fact at the time, that ‘American Graffiti’ was made on such a small budget, and everyone concerned with the project had only modest ambitions for it to succeed. [6]

I think that when you live with a film for so long, it becomes hard to remember, or understand, what your first reactions to it originally were. I only started out as a humble member of the audience, and wasn’t meant to be writing essays, unless they were about the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. You know what I’m saying? There are some things you are made to love, and there are others you aren’t. I don’t recall exactly what it was I liked the most about about ‘American Graffiti’. But since then it’s just been an accumulation of positive thoughts and feelings, ever since I first bought my own copy on video. So, if you haven’t seen it at all, or just haven’t seen it in ages, take a look (or another look.) And for me, taking the time out of my Christmas break to write this post will have been worth it. Enjoy!!

The above citations are taken from the Making of documentary contained on the freely available Universal DVD.

Writers on Film: From Emile Zola to Truman Capote

2011-12-15T15:20:00.001+11:00

Biographical portrayals of writers lives through their work

Samuel Beckett

Of the broad range of human activity available to us, the act of writing is probably the least exciting for a cinema audience to be asked to observe. But it can’t be denied that there are a number of interesting movies out there, concerning themselves with the lives of famous (and infamous) members of the western literary canon. When entertainment value should be considered, you’d think that watching someone with a pen and paper in front of them is not exactly a world-beating idea for a movie. Just some hack sitting down at his desk, either tearing his hair out from writers’ block, or just ‘there’, in deep prestidigitation about -- God knows what. Despite the Paris Review interviews that have been archived for posterity, and all the biographies, and the autobiographies that pass themselves off as fiction, (not to say the academic research), writers seem to have us convinced that they carry out a uniquely public function in the world. But is this assumption correct, or merely a collective creation of writers’ lofty ideas about themselves?

I believe that literary biographies on film fall into two broad categories: one is what I call the ‘literature as public function’ category. The other, I call the confessional category, in which the writer is more subjectively portrayed as dissolute, drug-addled and/or incapable of functioning in normal social activities. The first category provides the public with the reassuring cliché that writers are concerned human beings, interested in what ‘normal’ people are, what they do, and their aspirations. They lobby about important issues on behalf of ‘normal’ people. They criticise repressive social structures like the government and the Church on behalf of ‘normal’ people. Hence they push the envelope of possible human experience on behalf of ‘normal’ people. The second or ‘confessional’ category is more problematic, which to my mind makes it more interesting. In a number of filmed biographies that use a mixture of fiction and fact, the lives of writers are mythologised and melded into our collective bourgeois experience, without us knowing, or probably caring, if the so-called facts as presented are true, or not.

Oscar Wilde

The function of this second category is not to be historically representative, its purpose is far more important than that. Its purpose is to enable us to carry on, as if what writers do is important to the social fabric of our lives as individuals. Often, its their incoherent personal involvements which entertain us; or their problems with their art; or problems with their publishers. We want their lives to entertain us and we are less encouraged to listen to their opinions about the world. In this respect their public function is less important than their lived experiences and how these nourish their work and our appreciation of it.

As a fan of literary biography, I once recall reading, in tandem, one biography of Oscar Wilde, and another of Samuel Beckett; you could not find two more contrasting personalities. Beckett was an aesthete, quiet, shy and retiring. Before he became famous in middle age, he led an uneventful life. Wilde was notorious all his life, for his flaunting of Victorian conventions, his homosexuality and his incorrigible wit. He chose to live in the glare of the public spotlight and was never ashamed of it, but had enemies who eventually destroyed him. Beckett on the other hand, never had an enemy, was strict about his privacy, and never sought the public gaze for any other reason than it was possible that his work could enlighten people. I’ll give you three guesses as to which book was the most entertaining: it was the one about Wilde. His very public and intriguing life seems to have been made for biography and the biographer did not let his readers down.

What point am I trying to make exactly? It’s this: no matter how much writers may talk, they exist in a state of perpetual self-creation, so what may have been right yesterday, could be wrong the next -- it’s their entitlement for putting in so many man hours. I suppose most of us do live in a state of perpetual self-creation, but the fact is, we just don’t write about it. We live it, and let the writers write about it. And how important is their function as public mouthpieces in any case? Wouldn’t we rather see them dissolute, drunken, sleeping with as many people as they could find, and generally living a life the rest of us dare not imagine? Despite my reservations, I’ve picked five of my favourite films about how writer’s lives, and our perceptions of them become tangled webs of fact and fiction. It will be easy to see how my ‘public function’ category has taken a beating lately, as political correctness is being questioned and writers are being told to loosen up more so we can watch them making more (and better) fools out of themselves.

Emile to the rescue

The Life Of EmileZola (1937). Made after the advent of the Production Code, but before the outbreak of WWII. With contributions from at least four writers (see IMDB) and directed by William Dieterle. Starring Paul Muni in the title role, produced by the Warner Brothers studio, which pitched its output to a less sophisticated audience. There were a number of titles in their catalogue such as this starring Paul Muni, and considered as more prestigious pictures than the studio was used to making, such as ‘The Story of Luis Pasteur’ (1936) and ‘Juarez’ (1939).

We see the emergence of this great French writer as he struggles to find his voice in various writer’s garrets, grappling with personal and professional problems. Not very long into the film, there is a time jag and we suddenly see Zola as a rich and successful older man, with his lovely wife and genteel home. At the risk of his personal comforts, he becomes involved in the Dreyfus affair, a scandal involving a Jewish soldier transported to Devils Island for a crime he didn’t commit.

The film is expertly executed and it becomes understandable why Warners chose to make it. Zola is portrayed as a man of integrity speaking truth to power, a selfless fighter against injustice and prejudice, in the same way that connects the better known Warners gangster movies with the social issues of Depression-era America. ‘The Life of Emile Zola’ almost has an aspect of propaganda to it, considering it was made before the outbreak of war with Germany in 1939. It focuses on the sensitive issues of freedom of speech and the inequities of crime and punishment. This must have struck a chord with liberals in the 1930’s who were concerned with German aggression and what it meant in terms of whether hostilities would break out once again in Europe after an uneasy hiatus.

The film’s style reminds me of Zola’s writing, the narrative is reasonably conventional, despite the time jag just mentioned, and it does not concern itself much with Zola’s personal life, save how he sacrifices personal considerations in order that he perform the public function of assisting a man who has been falsely accused of an act he did not commit. In this way ‘The Life of Emile Zola’ becomes a hagiography to the point of us today having little choice but to believe what we see in the movie, with no other surviving recollections or testaments that Zola’s life may have been any different. Despite this, Zola emerges only as an enigma, with little personality, merely functioning as a public mouthpiece with no other purpose than to stir the masses into action. 3 ½ stars

Another example of the all-star cast. See older post.

Hemingway’s Adventures of a Young Man (1962). The brainchild of producer Jerry Wald and made by 20^th Century Fox, with an all-star cast including Paul Newman, Susan Strasberg, and Eli Wallach, with a screenplay by A.E. Hotchner. The film is an old-fashioned rendition of the writer-as-hero and a good example of the German bildungsroman, which concerns a writer’s coming-of-age and his ultimate decision to practice his true vocation in life. Based on the autobiographical short stories of Ernest Hemingway, we can never know the veracity of the events portrayed in the book, much less the film that its’ based upon. Made with obvious care in the aspects of cinematography, acting and production design, the film sadly is a bit stodgy, in its efforts to mythologise Hemingway as a post-war American cultural hero.

Richard Beymer gives a glum performance as the young Ernest, dwarfed by the scenery, and lost amidst the sturm and drang of family conflict and the wider tragedy of the First World War’s negative impact on an entire generation of young people. These Hemingway labelled as the ‘lost generation’ because of their experience of European indifference to what I would (perhaps unkindly) label American war neurosis. A deeper examination of this phenomenon would have been welcome, but sadly the narrative doesn’t concern itself with themes of such importance. Instead ‘Hemingway’s Adventures of a Young Man’, is all around the ballpark and doesn’t seem to be about anything in particular. As literary biography, it is sadly lacking in direction or purpose, save the limited criteria to transcribe Hemingway’s stories into a narrative that the audience will be able to understand. I can’t deny though, that it works as conservative Hollywood entertainment, reflective of its time and place. Whilst disappointing and not terribly inspiring, it endures as a testament of sorts to an antiquated notion of so-called manhood, and Hemingways’ undying commitment to such a notion in which he firmly believed. 3 stars

Jane Fonda plays Lillian Hellman in 'Julia'.

Julia (1977). One of legendary director Fred Zinnemann’s last feature films, ‘Julia’ is a story originally from the collection ‘Pentimento’ published in the ‘70s by Lillian Hellman in her emeritus years as an acclaimed American playwright and screen writer. It was in turn adapted for the screen by Alvin Sargent and stars Jane Fonda as Lillian and Vanessa Redgrave as Julia. Some critics tossed ‘Julia’ off as being too effete and old fashioned. But the subject matter is compelling and to make it more so, it’s told from a woman’s point of view, which so rarely happens in any movie, much less in the genre of literary biography. The story is told in flashback and concerns a reminiscence of how Lillian Hellman once did a favour for a friend, and how this favour put her in great danger. Hellman was Jewish and was required to pass through Germany with a sensitive package at a time when Jews in Germany were the scapegoats of the Nazis. Nevertheless, out of friendship and a sense of public duty, Lillian succeeds in her task. The rightness of the task, or even its ultimate purpose, is left up in the air as the narrative jumps in time to explain Julia’s sad fate. Lillian is unable to forgive what happened, nor to forget what Julia’s friendship meant to her.

The sequence in which Lillian boards the train in Moscow to make a trip into Germany makes for a lot of suspense, the audience alerted to the fact that it may be possible that she will be prevented by the Nazis from carrying out her task. If you’re familiar with Hellman’s memoirs, you will be aware of her radical political stance in the 1930’s and how her life was detrimentally affected when partner Dashiell Hammett served a prison term for being a communist sympathiser. She belonged to a generation of writers who fought Franco in the Spanish Civil War, and supported Russia against Germany when war broke out in 1939. It seems natural that ‘Julia’ is primarily concerned with a writer’s attempts, in her own small way, to be part of a public political process which has always in the past been the bastion of male participation. ‘Julia’ wears its feminism on its sleeve in a method which is audience-friendly, so that no one could possibly be offended by what it’s trying to say. In a world of limitations, I guess this is necessary if you want to get your point across without being killed by the critics, or at the box office in the process.

‘Julia’ actually exists within the frame of a dual narrative, in which the private lives of the two characters are as important as their ambitions and fortunes in the public arena. Personally, what I found the most appealing about this film was its portrayal of the private friendship of two women, and how that friendship sustained them through wars, and other great moments in history. 4 stars

Johnny Depp as Wilmot, the libertine of the title

The Libertine (2004). Written by Stephen Jeffreys and directed by Laurence Dunmore, ‘The Libertine’ is the story of John Wilmot, 2^nd Earl of Rochester, who lived during the 17^th century of Charles II, restored to the throne of England in 1660. Alternately a royal favourite, who was banished from court for causing offence and embarrassment to the monarch, the Earl’s poetry became better known after his death at the age of 33 years, due to his alcholism, provocative behaviour and sexual proclivities. ‘The Libertine’ is by turns, serious and mocking, as it attempts to convince the audience of the pointlessness of the Earl’s adventures, since, as a man who does not believe in love, he can never be a romantic hero, but is, instead, a monster created from his own massive sexual appetites. He rejects absolutely, the conventional society of which he is a part, but which he cannot bring himself to acknowledge. The women in his life, played by Rosamund Pike and Samantha Morton do their best to assuage the Earl’s debilitating fears and desperation, as he loses Charles’ support and begins a downward spiral of alcoholism and familial rejection, leading him eventually to death’s door. From this description, you may ascertain as to the lack of veracity of the argument that the Earl of Rochester had any interest in bettering the state of his society. (He certainly didn’t.)

Mock up of famous Avedon shot for the film

Writers in 17^th century England struggled along as best they could, with a combination of royal patronage, and family money, as they were usually high-born aristocrats who weren’t expected to work. This goes to show that a different context existed for the writer in the 17^th century. They did not exist for the betterment of society, but merely for its entertainment. ‘The Libertine’ is best described as an example of confessional biography. It deals with the Earl’s struggles with his inner demons and his desire for his work to gain some kind of acceptance, if not from the ‘merrie gang’ he socialises with, then at least from his royal patron. ‘The Libertine’ is an excellent example of in-your-face confessional. It’s an entertaining re-imagining of what it must have been like for a man with the Earl of Rochester’s intelligence to be penned by convention, and ultimately unable to come to grips with his innately creative nature and aspirations. 4 stars

Capote (2006). Directed by Bennett Miller, screenplay by Dan Futterman with material based upon the biography by Gerald Clarke. Philip Seymour Hoffman gives an understated but effective performance as Truman Capote who, whilst researching the murder of a family in Kansas, forges a relationship with one of the alleged killers, Perry Smith (Clifton Collins Jnr). Capote needs plenty of material for his book, but there’s something the killers aren’t giving away, and it’s the one thing he needs, but I have no intention of revealing it, since it’s the moral pivot the movie revolves around. Initially, I found ‘Capote’ puzzling. It’s pace is leisurely, not hurried. The camera doesn’t seem to move much and there are many long takes with little MTV-variety cutting. It’s very lack of a judgmental narrative made me wonder exactly what the film was trying to say, or, on the other hand, trying to avoid saying. This elliptical approach was annoying at first, but then grows on you, as you begin to notice small gestures, and make connections which serve to illustrate Truman’s deepest feelings about the murders, and his ambivalent relationship with Perry.

Obscure purposes aside, ‘Capote’ is a fascinating journey concerning the nature of the artistic process, and the price it exacts upon writers, (but not only them), aware that their words have the capacity to maybe hurt people, but go on writing anyway. The writer’s public function in the 20^th century as seekers after truth is blurred by the ongoing redundancy of popular culture. It chews up and spits out information, seemingly for the sake of it, with little or no thought for the lives that are detrimentally affected in the process, and one of the lives in this case, happens to be that of the writer himself. ‘Capote’ is an elegant, and elegiac, examination of the writing process in microcosm, over a period of years in which the work is created, produced, introduced to the world and finally left to rest. Unfortunately, there is little left of the protagonists, or the creator, to live to tell the real tale. But at least it’s a good movie. 4 ½ stars

Barbarism From Whose Side: The Intellectuals or the Masses?

2011-12-03T14:05:00.001+11:00

Review of ‘The Intellectuals and the Masses’ by Prof John Carey

T.S. Eliot sets out one of his plays as a diagram

I found ‘The Intellectuals and the Masses’ (as is often my wont) whilst browsing in a bookstore, uncertain of what subject I was interested in exploring further. Playing devil’s advocate with my own soul, I interpreted it on a very personal, and confrontational level. Giving myself more credit than I deserved, I felt I had reason to be offended by the premise of an elite group who did not have the noblest motives, in their desire for social and intellectual control of the rest of the population. But there are times when I am not the most accurate barometer of my own purposes. Rather, what this book did for me was to confirm my deepest fears about the nature of intellectualism itself. As a result, I have opened my eyes a little wider in order to observe that class-based societies are in and of themselves, evil, and intellectuals (of all political beliefs) only exist in order to create a consensus that permits nasty things to occur without a stir or whimper from the rest of us. I grabbed onto this book for dear life, knowing full-well that it explored a decadent period of history in a far away place that I really didn’t have anything to do with. But the way it castigates these so-called great minds, who were deluded into thinking they were superior to everyone else, appealed to my Australian sense of fairness, and I guess my own youthful sense of idealism.

Who else but D.H. Lawrence

‘The Intellectuals and the Masses’ is an excellent book which made me wonder about my taste in reading, and whether it had turned me into an right-wing intellectual snob, promoting the benefits of eugenics and the advantages of having Adolf Hitler in power in Germany. It seems that my literary heroes such as T.S. Eliot, W.B. Yeats and H.G. Wells, in their attempts to pass themselves off as big brains, were essentially cold-blooded elitists who didn’t give a damn about the public -- or the term which I prefer, originally coined by Edmund Burke -- ‘the swinish multitudes’. Between 1880 and 1939, a yawning gulf existed between the upper and lower echelons of society in Britain as well as the rest of Europe and Prof. Carey makes an entire book out of the fact. A number of writers, despite a benign image of goodwill they fostered toward the rest of humanity, were merely a grubby and insalubrious group of elitist charlatans. They actively encouraged a vicious and reactionary mind-set of perpetual and fatalistic class bias in order to have their privileged place within society unquestioned into fruitful perpetuity. I had to investigate further.

Professor Carey aims accusations against Yeats, Wells, Wyndham Lewis, Virginia Woolf and D.H. Lawrence among others. These accusations mainly concern the writers’ shabby treatment of those ‘not in the know’. Who these people are, Carey cannot ascertain, only that they are probably poor, living in the London suburbs, and attempting to make a paltry living at anything that their betters claim is not ‘art’, however their betters may define what ‘art’ is, exactly. This lumpen mass of proletarians, or whatever you want to call them, read newspapers and go to movies in an attempt to make sense of their limited lives. The fact that their lives are limited does not move the intellectuals to compassion. Instead, they react with outright condemnation. They complain that there are too many people in the world and believe that this creates a mass kind of culture that interferes with their livelihood and their belief in themselves as an intellectual elite. To highbrows looking across the gulf, it seemed that the masses were not merely degraded and threatening, but also not fully alive. [1] p.10.

The ‘science’ of eugenics was created as a means for writers such as Yeats, Bernard Shaw, Aldous Huxley, and T.S. Eliot to bemoan the lack of an intellectual aristocracy of which they could be part, in order to stem the rise of the mediocre, and those they regarded as inferior and retarded. [2] p.13. Instead of supporting the concept of universal education, the intellectuals did everything in their power to discourage and undermine it, tantamount to deliberately making their writing so obscure and irrational that it was almost impossible for anyone (presumably with or without an education), to understand. [3] p.17. The self-proclaimed theorist of Modernism, Spanish writer Ortega Y Gasset argued that modernist art acted like a social agent which separated people into two different castes, for the purpose of allowing the elite to distinguish themselves from the drab mass of society. [4] ibid.

The rest of the book is a well-researched and written argument that points to the elitism of a number of revered writers and how such a mindset can be directly linked to the rise of European totalitarianism and the persecution of the Jews. The final chapter entitled ‘Wyndham Lewis and Hitler’ is a devastating critique on the similarities between Hitler’s ideas about culture and those of the English intellectuals of the same period. The Americans possessed cars, clothes and refrigerators, but the Third Reich boasted 270 opera houses, giving it the right to look down on American philistinism and crass materialism, an attitude shared by many English writers and intellectuals. [5]p. 198-99.

Wyndham Lewis was also a painter

Needless to say, these attitudes seem antiquated to us today, and I was shocked at the pointedness of Carey’s attack on such writers as Lawrence and Yeats, who have been canonised for years by the universities, and our WASP first world society at large. I also had the same reaction when I once wrote an essay on the life of German composer Richard Wagner. I was shocked to discover that he wrote anti-semitic pamphlets in his own lifetime, and also that his second wife flew the Nazi flag at their Bayreuth residence out of admiration and support of Adolf Hitler, his rise to power which Wagner himself never lived to witness.

I think that books and investigations of this kind have the capacity to inherently change the way we think about the people whom we view as having a talent that is somehow unique, and superior to anything we would be capable of doing ourselves. I recall wading through the letters of outrage published in the Age Monthly Review from readers who were convinced that these accusations of Wagner being an unattractive individual -- at the very least -- were not only superfluous when it came to judging his music, but downright slanderous, that is, if Wagner had been alive to answer to them. With time however, this new information becomes accepted as part of the textual rendering of the person’s life. It becomes possible for any individual interested enough to either accept this new information as fact, or deny it for their own personal reasons. To accuse the investigator of being intolerant of the person in question’s own beliefs or the times in which he lived, or attempting to be too politically correct. cannot stand up if the information is well researched and argued in a convincing way. I believe this is the case with Cary’s book.

‘The Intellectuals and the Masses’ galvanised me in its own way, concerning the nature of social elites, their purpose, and the people we inadvertently choose to rule over us.

My footnotes are taken from 'The Intellectuals and the Masses' by John Carey, London, Faber & Faber, 1992.

The Intellectuals and the Masses

Apocalypse Tomorrow: The end of the World on Film

2011-11-26T18:04:00.001+11:00

The end of the world on film can be a risky business. What’s the point of making a film about the end of the world when it could actually happen and there’d be no one left to patronise your movie? So what if you’d made a correct prediction; what good would that be? The end of the world is no longer merely the subject of apocalyptic hearsay, it is a serious issue, especially when separated from the religious realm to which it has been relegated since (at least) the middle ages. The reason for this is that nuclear holocaust is an apocalypse of our own making and perhaps this is what makes it a good subject for drama.

However audiences do not go to see movies to be confronted by reality, since instead they wish to escape from it. Serious issue movies walk the tightrope between sending out positive messages about humanity and at the same time, providing a certain entertainment value. So my theory is, if you can make a movie about the end of the world that’s entertaining, but you don’t win any awards for it, then at least you should be remembered for attempting to walk that tightrope.

The movies in this brief list are not science fiction. You could maybe class ‘The Seventh Sign’ as science fiction. But more of that later. My worst sins of omission are War Game, and Testament. I have seen both of these, but so long ago, I can’t remember enough about them to write anything that would be of interest. ‘Threads’ and ‘Miracle Mile’ I haven’t seen, but look forward to seeing in the future, so these will also unfortunately be omitted.

As you may have figured out by now, classifying films into a particular niche or genre is a big deal to me. What is omitted has the opportunity to become just as important as what’s not. So there’s no disaster films. No Deep Impact, Mad Max, or the Book of Eli. Or 28 Days Later. One of my glaring omissions is ‘Dr Strangelove’ because it’s a comedy. I don’t like it, to be honest. I think it’s too forced and obvious, as well as a tad on the cheap side. People may laugh, but it doesn’t make them feel particularly comfortable to be doing it. Neither are there any titles that concern themselves with life AFTER the end of the world, (a concept invented by successful horror writers and the military industrial complex of Hollywood. Re-imagining life after the holocaust makes some writers rich, but it can also lead to a misunderstanding of the basic concept of apocalypse. It is supposed to mean after all, that there will be NO survivors. But I digress.)

I am referring to two particular examples of this sub-genre, ‘The Stand’, a television movie, and the Will Smith version of ‘I Am Legend’, and its cop-out ending, the rest ruined by too many compromises and its overuse of pointless Computer Generated Imagery. All these titles are science fiction I know, but they act as a reminder of what the films I actually want to discuss, deal with. That is, nuclear war in a realistic context, and how these titles engage the audience with important questions such as the existence of a larger morality, the nature of political expediency, the advantages and disadvantages of human progress, and other less fanciful, more earthbound topics of interest than your normal borderline horror film with an apocalyptic scenario.

Hollywood does not have an easy time attempting to fictionalise something as disturbing as the prospect of the human race’s permanent annihilation. In real life, the more strained diplomatic relations become, the easier it is to trot out lists like this, whose titles may have nostalgic value, but offer little explanation of the new disputes on the world stage that have nothing in common with what’s gone on before. There is consensus for example, that the Cold War is over; so what have the issues concerning that period in history to do with us at this moment? There’s sabre rattling going on right now as I write this, concerning Iran and Russia, but the sabre rattling has nothing to do with me writing this particular post at this particular time. I have no control over world events and I don’t pretend to be a Cassandra, (or should I say snake oil salesman.) So, for the hell of it, (and if we’re all still here by the finish), these are my favourite films about nuclear apocalypse and the end of civilisation as we know it today, Hollywood-style. You may also find a useful critical article here about The Sense of an Ending by Frank Kermode, a book about apocalyptic literature and other issues of interest concerning literary narrative outside my scope as a humble blogger.

On the Beach (1959): The films of Stanley Kramer are being reappraised these days, mostly in their favour, and I think this is one of his best efforts. Based upon the novel by Nevil Shute, it has Anthony Perkins speaking with an Australian accent, and Ava Gardner wondering why she bothered to go to Melbourne to make a film about the end of the world. The population of the northern hemisphere has been decimated by an unexplained nuclear exchange, and Australia waits for the radiation to be blown in its direction, as it lays in wait as the last bastion of human civilisation. Gregory Peck is solid but unremarkable as an American submarine commander landed in Melbourne, and Fred Astaire is very touching as an Aussie scientist who feels partly responsible for what’s happened. The plot is a little slim, but these people are simply waiting to die, and I for one felt empathy for their situation.

There are no pyrotechnics, nor are there any big dramatic scenes of panicking people doing emotionally stressed out things. It seems that people die in their beds, and a hush of deathly quiet comes over a city once it’s been contaminated by radiation. ‘On the Beach’ is less interested in politics and/or history and more concerned with emotional trauma involving what it feels like to know that you are not a survivor at all, but just another victim. This is a downbeat message, but ‘On the Beach’ is admirable in that it doesn’t pull its punches. It’s as honest as it was possible to be, about the devastation which a worldwide nuclear war would unleash, and the cruelty of a distant power elite who are never seen, but are the cause of this human catastrophe. 4 ½ stars

The Day After (1983): This was originally made for television, but ‘The Day After’ has its own stature as fine piece of work and at the time of its broadcast, the highest rated TV movie yet made up to that time. Set in the seemingly bucolic American state of Kansas, its folksy feel is undercut by a feeling of apocalyptic dread when revealed that a vast population has been set up for death by a smattering of nuclear installations that will be struck by Russian missiles if World War III ever breaks out, which of course it does. There are a number of different storylines and sub-plots. But the story mainly concerns the survival of a farming family, and an idealistic doctor (Jason Robards) who somehow carries on despite losing his family and home. There are a number of memorable set pieces including the onset of the Russian nuclear attack, taking place on a crowded highway of people in their cars attempting to leave ground zero. Another near the end of the film seems like a homage to the sequence in ‘Gone with the Wind’ that has Scarlett O’Hara tending to literally hundreds of sick and wounded Confederate soldiers. To me, this sequence is a superb visual metaphor for everything the film has been trying to say, the terrible cost of political brinkmanship in a crisis situation, and how a combination of government negligence and stupidity can mean the end of humanity as we know it.

The makeup is very good, in that injured people really seem that way and they haven’t been made up – their physical injuries somehow equate with what has happened to them and it’s not meant to be pretty. ‘The Day After’ issues a disclaimer of sorts at the end of the film, by warning the viewer that what they’ve just witnessed is nothing compared to the reality of what would happen if there was actually a nuclear attack against the United States. Directed by Nicholas Meyer with an excellent ensemble cast including Steve Gutenberg, Amy Madigan, and local Kansas people who were cast for the sake of the piece’s authenticity. 4 ½ stars

The Seventh Sign (1989): Not a big hit when first released, ‘The Seventh Sign’ was initially dismissed as a load of religious hokum. This may be so, but its hokum well produced and acted, with a believable and appealing female protagonist in the person of Demi Moore who gives a performance that would best be described as heartfelt. She plays wife to a yuppie lawyer in Los Angeles, and a prospective mother who falls pregnant, but is worried about carrying the child to full-term. In walks a Christ-like figure who wants to rent their spare room, played by Jurgen Prochnow. Meanwhile, husband Michael Biehn is struggling to save a man from execution who murdered his parents, his only defence being that it was a sin before God that they go on living without some kind of divine intervention. A young Jewish biblical scholar is consulted by Demi, in order that she brush up on some of the pertinent prophecies as set down in the Revelation of St John. Demi becomes convinced that the end of the world is nigh, and that the guff of souls is empty because God does not wish us carry on any longer. Curiously enough, not being religious myself, I fell for ‘The Seventh Sign’ hook, line and sinker when I first saw it at the cinema.

There are a number of compelling and beautifully photographed sequences of nature gone awry in various parts of the world, indicating that all is not well and that God is not happy with us. These scenes are undercut by the constant flow of television images in the couple’s living room, of constant war and unrest in a mad slaughterhouse of a world in which time may be running out, and divine intervention could provide relief to all our woes. I found this take on apocalypse within its original context of divine retribution compelling and strangely believable, because I think that director Carl Schultz does such a good job of making it audience friendly. Personally I wouldn’t label ‘The Seventh Sign’ as either science fiction or religious fiction. It’s more a genre horror film that concerns itself with the end of the world in a refreshing and interesting way that is as thought provoking as it is entertaining. 3 ½ stars

The Bedford Incident (1965): Starring (and produced by) Richard Widmark, Sidney Poitier, Martin Balsam and Eric Porter, ‘The Bedford Incident’ makes the prospect of nuclear confrontation seem as suspenseful as it is onerous. Set on an American naval military boat as it patrols Arctic waters on the lookout for Russian submarines, ‘The Bedford Incident’ takes place at the height of Cold War tensions. It illustrates a possible scenario where we have the case of a commander who is unfit to command, along with a demoralised and weary crew, pushed to their limits and liable to make disastrous mistakes because they are simply…human. The film is carried along by audience expectations of how long it will take for someone in the crew to crack, or for the commander (Widmark) to stop playing a game of cat and mouse with a Russian sub he will not allow to surface. A showdown seems inevitable, with one side or the other pressing the nuclear button, thus starting a nuclear war between Russia and America.

The macho atmosphere of all the guys together using a lot of technical, naval language running around giving each other orders is a bit of a turn-off, but this is undeniably exciting and a reasonably thought-provoking film regarding first-strike capability and which side should have the right to claim it as their own. By the last scene, the audience is mentally drained, and has pause to wonder what difference it makes who strikes first, if the result will eventually lead to annihilation. If I’m not mistaken, the James Harris who directed this is the same James Harris who produced a number of partner Stanley Kubrick’s films. It’s an excellent effort and I think still relevant today, when one considers the broken minds, as well as bodies that have tragically resulted from the extended wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. 4 stars.

Failsafe (1964): The brainchild of produce Walter Bernstein, ‘Failsafe’ calls into question the nature of computerised warfare in which the parts have built-in malfunction, and can inadvertently cause provocation toward the so-called enemy where none was originally intended. There seems to be a lot of trauma in the military, caused by their awareness of their responsibility. They are protecting us in spite of ourselves, but not doing a very good job of it in the process. Dan O’Herlihy and Walter Matthau represent opposing sides of the coin as respectively a military dove who believes in nuclear containment, and a civilian hawk who believes in the inevitability of nuclear war and the responsibility of America to rise out of the ashes and build a brave new world after. Washington’s political elite are portrayed as a bunch of careless hedonists who use the prospect of war as fodder for their pointless and trite dinner party conversations, whilst the rest of the population is left helpless in the face of possible destruction by its own side.

‘Failsafe’ is for a Hollywood movie, extremely downbeat and austere. I guess for a film about the end of the world, you couldn’t ask for more than that. An ensemble cast put together by director Sidney Lumet are all exemplary (listen to the audio commentary on the DVD for Lumet’s illuminating comments about the cast and other aspects of the making of the film.) This is probably the big daddy of all films concerning the end of the world, and for good reason. O’Herlihy’s dream of being the matador at the beginning of the film becomes a fulfilled prophecy by the end, and ‘Failsafe’ is perhaps the only commercial American film that does justice to its subject matter. 5 stars.

I gotta go to the zoo Mac. There's a tiger having a birthday party.

The China Syndrome (1979): As a suspense thriller about an accident at a nuclear power plant, and how an attempted cover-up is exposed by a television crew working for a local station, I would propose that The China Syndrome is an excellent film about the possibility of the end of the world, and how it would transpire. Made, and then released at the time of a real accident at the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant, the film initially caused a stir at a time when there was a significant anti-nuclear lobby attempting to limit the power and influence of the nuclear industry in the United States. The death of anti-nuclear activist Karen Silkwood in mysterious circumstances is reflected in an attempt on the life of one of the characters in this film in a sobering evocation of what can happen to whistle blowers when they dare to tell the truth to power.

Looking back on ‘The China Syndrome’, to portray the film as merely a thriller would be doing it a disservice. It is also a serious reflection on the need of a vigilant media in order for a democratic society to operate effectively. Among other things, The China Syndrome exposes the scary lack of public accountability within an industry that exists for profit, without taking into consideration the safety and well-being of its consumers, who are after all, citizens with their rights. Starring Jane Fonda, Jack Lemmon and Michael Douglas, all three who have their big moments, but Lemmon was a revelation to those of us who were only familiar with his comedic roles. Everything about ‘The China Syndrome’ works, and even the idea of the possibility of a ‘china syndrome’ situation happening in future, was enough for many of us to start building bomb shelters. Or at least move to Tasmania. 4 stars.

Creatures in Love Part I: Road Runner and Coyote

2011-11-23T17:20:00.001+11:00

An existential desert back-drop as Coyote ponders next move

I have a theory that the Coyote is in love with the Road Runner, but being totally inept, he could never divert the Road Runner’s attention away from the road. The Road Runner exists purely for the purpose of running along a stretch of desert road that lasts only as long as the running time of the story, (that is, cartoon), but as far as Coyote is concerned, exists in eternity. The Road Runner has an almost existential purpose of looking straight ahead, neither left nor right, in his determination to stick to his schedule of getting from one place to the next, inA a pointless journey of which only he knows its destination and purpose. The audience as well as the Coyote are well aware of this, but are compliant, in awe of the Road Runner’s determination to live his own life.

Did you ever see such running shoes?

To Coyote, Road Runner is the prey, but Road Runner is blissfully unaware of this. Hence the Coyote exists in a state of perpetual frustration, making a fool of himself, as Road runner shows off his superior attitude to life by constantly and easily escaping from the Coyote’s childish attempts at capture. Road Runner is modest, but also a show-off, with his expert ability to survive the travails and pointless hijinks of the Coyote, always at great costs to the Coyote’s physical well-being, whilst the Road Runner escapes without any injury. The well-being of the Coyote is even of less concern to the Coyote himself. He does not seem to care what happens to him, or what he does to himself, in order that he captures the Road Runner. The prize of his effort seems to be that once this has been achieved, all will be well, and the Coyote will be happy and fulfilled.

Glue on the road only worked if it was a truck

Superficially at least, it appears that the Coyote is chasing the Road Runner for food, but I think this is a diversionary tactic, in order to make Coyote out to be smarter than he is. Whether he catapults himself out of a giant sling slot in the direction of Road Runner; whether he positions himself in front of a giant truck only to get run over by Road Runner; all of this points to the Coyote’s obsession with catching that which is the most inaccessible and closed off to him, thus the most inviting. Road Runner appears to be the only food supply there is. There is nothing else in the desert available for the Coyote to eat. A few empty tin cans are on the ground, which the Coyote kicks away in derision, knowing that his well-being is not being provided for in the most rudimentary fashion.

Another ridiculous contraption doomed to failure

The Road Runner is constantly oblivious to the existence of the Coyote. He is unafraid of the Coyote; he is alone in the wilderness, cut off from the Coyote and their desert backdrop in a fashion that is almost attractive in its singularity. The Road Runner seems perfectly calm and at ease. He is almost Zen-like in his acceptance of his fate as a cartoon character who exists only inso far as he is a moveable pencil drawing. In contrast, Coyote lives in a state of perpetual and constant dissatisfaction. He is not one with his environment. He constantly uses dynamite in an effort to attract Road Runner’s attention, which leaves their desert environment in a state of mayhem, as Coyote attempts to track Road Runner’s whereabouts, which are always unsuccessful and ridiculous in both their rudimentary planning and execution.

The Road Runner constantly rises above the Coyote’s efforts with a silly pointing of the tongue, but with dignity. He silently berates the audience as well as the Road Runner for their ineffectuality and inability to grasp his superior nature and ability. Does the Road Runner have any feelings for the Coyote? We will never know, but I think it’s certainly possible - it’s the romantic in me.

Dynamite was often the funniest

The travails of the Coyote in attempting to capture the Road Runner exists in our collective imagination as a state of Nietzscheian perpetual (or eternal), recurrence. Every cartoon is exactly the same as the last. Like the trope of a horror movie that gets used by all the best directors because they have nothing better to do than steal from the film which used the sequence originally.

The Road Runner and Coyote also remind me of ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Their love for each other will never be consummated; they don’t die but are both virgins and will never end up caring for anyone else. They still exist in our minds after the story has been told over and over again, like a folk tale a Serbian peasant might once have told his children at bedtime.

Whatever Became of the All-Star Cast?

2011-11-19T09:29:00.001+11:00

Whatever became of the ‘all-star cast’? This is the question I ask myself in moments of unease when I look my DVD collection up and down, wondering if I will ever decide what movie it is I want to watch next. Should it be ‘The Towering Inferno’ or ‘The Poseidon Adventure’? ‘Drugstore Cowboy’ or ‘Mulholland Drive’? And why is it with me that escapism usually wins out over art? I guess I was programmed that way, and I’m old enough now not to complain and just enjoy it.

Lewis who?

Once upon a time, movies were one of the few sources of popular entertainment available for the mass public. Television reached its zenith of popularity in the fifties, sixties and seventies, and it was popular to the extent of eating into the movie industry’s profits in the fifties and sixties. What about when going to the movies, (apart from following your favourite sporting team) was the chosen pastime for the majority of people, not only in America, but for people in virtually every corner of the globe who could afford to while away a couple of hours at their local flicks when they had the time or inclination?

I recall a story my mother once told me, about maybe the first bizarre case of mass audience stalking. Gary Cooper, who was a big star during the Depression was in a film called ‘The Plainsman”, and at the end he gets shot in the back by the baddie. Gary Cooper always played the hero and his fans loved him. Gary’s fans found out where the actor who played the part of the baddie lived, and harassed him constantly day and night because he was the one who had killed ‘their Gary’. Apparently they were very upset. Such was the power of movies to sway audiences who, because of economic circumstances, were in thrall of their heroes on the big screen to a degree that seems naïve to us today. Also, it goes to show how performers have always been treated as commodities by the Hollywood studio system, and also by the public.

Great silent screen star Mabel Normand

The movie industry is extremely profitable, especially in periods of the greatest economic hardship. I don’t have the box office receipts at my fingertips, but it seems to be a provable fact that any leisure activity that can take people’s minds off their problems is bound to make its investors better off. This sounds like profiteering in the harsh economic climate of today, but a buck was a buck in those days, and there were no politically correct liberals running around telling people that it was a sin to make money off people when they could ill-afford it.

In the days of silents it was discovered that audiences attended movies to see people that they like to watch on-screen. They wanted to know their names and they wanted to see them in as many movies as possible. Consequently the world was introduced to such luminaries as Charlie Chaplin, Mabel Normand, Lon Chaney and lesser lights known by only the most ardent specialists in the genre of silents in the present-day. To collect all of them all together on the one project must have seemed a difficult task, and the idea of assembling an all-star cast began proper with the advent of sound movies.

Silent movies aside, (the films of D.W. Griffith immediately spring to mind, but since I haven’t seen them I cannot include them in this discussion), I would say that the first attempts to produce movies with all-star casts occurred as America was struggling with the economic disaster of the Great Depression.

The book-ended films ‘Dinner at Eight’ and ‘Grand Hotel’ were both produced by the MGM studio in the 1930’s. Both these are what you would call comedy-dramas. The plots concern the private lives of rich socialites, down-at-heel actors and elderly matriarchs, ‘disparate’ characters brought together for a dinner, or conversely, reservations at an exclusive hotel. The majority of Americans were poor and out-of-work at the time, and they fell for these films hard, presumably for the escapism they offered in a time of economic despair and uncertainty.

Irving Thalberg is credited with creating the concept of the ‘all-star’ cast since he was MGM’s most important producer, but he never formally asked for a credit on any film he worked on. MGM was the studio in the ‘30s with the majority of the prestige. It had many stars signed to long-term contracts, and it must have seemed like a good idea to get them to work together. Both movies were a big success with the public and the ‘all-star cast’ was launched onto an unassuming public. ‘Grand hotel’ and “Dinner at Eight’ were cast with major names such as Greta Garbo, Wallace Beery, John and Lionel Barrymore, a young Joan Crawford, Jean Harlow and Marie Dressler. This forms an important leitmotif of the all-star cast: few of the performers just mentioned are remembered in the popular imagination today, but as interesting relics of a by-gone era, no matter how popular they may have been in their own lifetimes.

The next film of any note with an all-star cast was ‘Gone With the Wind’, produced by David O Selznick as an independent producer. Granted, Vivien Leigh was a new discovery after a much-publicised search for the ideal actress to play Scarlett O’Hara, so she was hardly a major star when she was picked for the part. Many better known actresses were screen tested but were turned down for various and probably, long-forgotten reasons. But there are a number of others in the cast who were well known to the public including Clark Gable, Olivia de Havilland, Leslie Howard, Hattie McDaniel and Thomas Mitchell.

The first movie I ever got taken to see

To flash forward twenty or so years on, Roadshow movies often used to have all-star casts and depended heavily upon casting a number of well-known performers in the roles which would attract an audience. Film in America had passed its pioneering period. Movies were coming to be regarded as a serious medium. To get audiences interested in more serious subject matter, (adaptations of Broadway plays and books for example), big casts of famous actors were assembled to ensure the studios managed to recoup their losses. Roadshow movies were initially conceived by an individual producer or Hollywood studio to have a big cast and a big budget. They were especially made to a certain time-frame designated in pre-production, in order that exhibitors, (ie the people who owned the cinemas), could fit in a certain amount of showings per day that would make them a profit.

Forty, fifty years ago, people had stricter hours of work and could only go to the movies either at night or on the weekend. The busiest nights and the weekends were called ‘no free list’ periods where booking was essential, and you just couldn’t show up to buy a ticket. These were the days, when, after a movie was withdrawn from exhibition it would take years for it show up on live-to-air television (at least where I come from). Video tape was not made for domestic consumption, cable TV was merely an interesting idea, and digital entertainment was non-existent. There was also a certain snobbery involved that appealed to the upwardly mobile, in that you could boast to your neighbours about getting in to see ‘Spartacus’ on a Saturday night with the kids, when maybe the neighbours had tried but been unable to.

Talented directors, most notably David Lean, were attracted to this more showier and commercial style of filmmaking than they had previously been used to. ‘Bridge on the River Kwai’ and ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ were phenomenally successful with audiences and critics and they boasted big casts of well-known actors, such as William Holden, Peter O’Toole, Anthony Quinn, and Alec Guiness, Also, the stories and themes were grandiose. They were ideal middle-brow entertainment for undiscerning audiences, or audiences that were thirsty for more substance to their entertainment.

Stop him! He's got a bomb!

Roadshow movies gave the medium a certain reputation for prestige that it may not have known previously, and the ‘epic’ became Hollywood’s ideal export to the rest of the world. ‘The Fall of the Roman Empire’; ‘The Agony and the Ecstasy’; ‘The Ten Commandments’; ‘Ben-Hur’; ‘King of Kings’; ‘Doctor Zhivago’. These are just a handful of the roadshow films that dragged audiences back into the movie theatres and away from their television sets and with their all-star casts made money (hopefully but not always!) for the Hollywood studios (and overseas investors) who funded them. The roadshow film was also an effective method of displaying Hollywood’s superiority to television, with its normally 70mm ratio, stereo sound, big casts and grandiose and important historical, biblical or political stories.

Steve McQueen: 'when will you architects ever learn?'

As the seventies dawned, Hollywood seemed less interested in making roadshow films. For one thing, they were expensive, and sometimes took years to make. They involved extensive pre-production and filming away from the studio at remote locations around the world, in difficult conditions for the cast and crew. No matter how much mystique surrounded these epic movies, if they didn’t turn a profit, well, then, what was was the point of making them? Audience expectations also changed to include films that were ‘smaller’, and less influenced by the financial aspirations of the Hollywood studios.

We didn't know a swarm of bees could be so scary. And they weren't.

But all-star casts never really went out of fashion, and when the disaster movie was born, there seemed to plenty of takers for roles in films such as ‘Airport’ and its sequels, ‘The Poseidon Adventure’ ‘Earthquake’ 'The Swarm' and a number of others. ‘Airport’, arguably one of the worst films to gain a Best Picture nomination at the Oscars, kicked off this cycle of disaster films, with a cast heavily publicised as stupendous. But sadly, many of the players are less well known today. The cast includes Burt Lancaster, Dean Martin, Helen Hayes, Jean Seberg and Jacqueline Bisset. ‘The Poseidon Adventure’, which I happen to think is a very good film, has a excellent cast including Gene Hackman, Shelley Winters, Stella Stevens and others less well known today. ‘The Towering Inferno’ may be the best known of this cycle simply because of its cast including Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, Faye Dunaway, William Holden and others. Sadly this cycle of disaster films reminds us of the ready-made redundancy of popular culture, when performers can be relegated to supporting parts or even to the scrap-heap as they become older, do not win any awards, or are less interested in making themselves better known to the public.

Iconic Poseidon Adventure poster

I for one, am nostalgic for movies with all-star casts. They are usually entertaining, fun to watch and offer the best that Hollywood, at least in the past, had to offer. Dare I wonder who would be cast in one of them these days? It’s a well-known fact that movie budgets are excessive, and people (including me) rail against films costing the gross national product of a small third world country that flop with the audience, because they happen to be lousy. Maybe what Hollywood needs is more panache, and less political correctness. As a place as well as a state of mind, it would be far more fun, and entertaining for the rest of us.

Growing up in Australia in the Sixties

2011-11-13T15:22:00.001+11:00

The announcement of President Barack Obama’s visit to these shores has caused me to indulge in a wave of rosy nostalgia. Mainly concerning such things as Australia’s relationship with America, and long hot summers spent frolicking aimlessly on the beach. These two pre-occupations may not have much in common but they are connected forever in my memory of growing up during the conflagration of the Vietnam war.

Looking back, it seems a time when Australia was tied to the coat-tails of America through a combination of realpolitik and what today we may think of as some kind of bizarre racial necessity. But am I falsifying my own memories? News of what was going on in Vietnam at the height of the conflict, acted as a sober backdrop to my innocent summer holiday breaks whilst growing up and enjoying my very conventional childhood summer holidays in Sydney.

Everyone listened to the radio in those days. I spent a lot of time with relatives in a southern beachside suburb, every summer holiday for three years running, where the Vietnam conflict could not have been further away. But the radio was always on, and in between the ad breaks and the Top 40 countdown of hits, the Vietnam war was the unofficial narrative of almost every Sydney radio station. In turn, the radio was something like the communal fire of olden times that members of the tribe crowded around, for comfort and a sense of belonging. I also can remember a few of my favourite songs that were playing on the radio. Among them was ‘In the Year 2525’ by Zager and Evans; ‘Classical Gas’ by Mason Williams; ‘The Real Thing’ by Russell Morris; ‘Arkansas Grass’ and “A Little Ray of Sunshine’ by Axiom, and the double A sided single of ‘Something’ and ‘Come Together’ by The Beatles which got played to death on all the major AM radio stations. For better or worse, these songs made me what I am today. By the end of this post, I will probably reach by circularity, the conclusion that it’s pointless to indulge in nostalgia in the first place, but since I’ve barely started, this is a pointless observation to make. Then again, I am the master of pointless observation.

Ever since the British decline of influence in Asia, it has been assumed that the relationship between Australia and America has been, well, a good one. There’s no denying it. Americans and Australians have the same background, the same language, the same political heritage of democracy and so on and so forth. Australian Prime Minister during the Second World War, John Curtin made it clear that, with the Japanese incursions so close to our shores, it was a necessity to forge closer ties with the United States. Ever since then, I believe that Australia has unfortunately been backed into a corner of appearing to be junior partner to a more vocal and powerful nation.

Yet also, if I allow myself, I recall a brief, shining moment when many Australians found it necessary to speak out against what they considered to be an unjust and unnecessary war. See here. It was as if we were acknowledging something wrong with the relationship we had with America. It was somehow…one-sided. Dare I say…perhaps a little dysfunctional? (Not that we knew what that word meant in those days.) I feel sorry for the young people who will grow up having no recollection of any opposition movement to injustice, and I am reluctant to point out the lack of such a thing to the war against terror, but there it is, and I would prefer not to dwell on it.

Sojourning with my mother into the central business district by bus, we would pass the University of Sydney campus, and usually, during the Vietnam war, there were quite a few students sitting out in the local park either on strike, or protesting against the war. My older brother grew his hair long and was listening to a lot of loud music, a little scared that he may be drafted and picked out of a death lottery, after the Australian (Liberal Party) government opted to send more troops as reinforcement against a possible North Vietnamese victory. With the fateful transformation of Australian society there also came disappointment and disillusion, as the Liberal Party was swept from power in 1972 after 23 years to be replaced by a relatively young and forward looking government that within its first weeks recognised the People’s Republic of China. Symbolic perhaps, but unthinkable just a few years before. Unfortunately the Whitlam Labor government was felled by many mistakes of its own making, (as well as appointing a man as Governor General who had his own agenda,) but its achievements remained as an example to younger Australians like myself of the possibility of reform and change, and how it may not be such a dangerous thing after all.

At the risk of showing my age and lecturing people younger than myself, I think now, looking back on it, that the late sixties and early seventies was our own Australian spring, or ‘renaissance’, as many of us like to refer to those heady years. Maybe these days, outsiders can consider Australia as less of a partner in America’s wars, and more as an independent nation with its own interests and a desire to be thought of as more than just a junior partner to the world’s major power.

100 Of My Favourite Movies in 30 words or less

2011-11-03T16:43:00.000+11:00

I’m experimenting with this idea of short one-line reviews without the babbling on and spoiling the movie for those who haven’t seen it yet. This list is just a sample of some of my favourite films, some I’ve known all my life and others I’ve discovered on disc. They are in purely random order, and I do not use any ratings system, so if I tell you I think that it’s great and you don’t think so, you can’t blame me for it. There aren’t too many that have been released in the last five years or so, so if you’re looking for new releases, this list will be of no use to you whatsoever. I don’t believe in preaching to the converted, so if you know what I’m talking about, then you’ll just know it. If you don’t know, then watch the movie and find out.

Repulsion Catherine Deneuve goes crazy in front of Roman Polanski. Excellent film to watch again.

In a Lonely Place Humphrey Bogart and Gloria Grahame are two star-crossed lovers who could never make it last. Film noir with a bit of heart.

Night of the Hunter Robert Mitchum plays a suspect preacher, after the money that’s been left to two children in a toy doll. Not for the faint hearted.

Duck Soup Supreme political satire of dictators, government and pomposity. No wonder everyone loves it.

The Driver Ryan O’Neal the strong and silent type with great stunt driving at the beginning, but not a very hopeful film.

Get Carter Grimy, depressing, crass and totally engrossing. A great crime film and totally unrelenting in its violence.

Species Improving with age, witty take on the alien genre. Sexy girl alien after a mate, and chased down before she decimates humanity.

Strangers on a Train Sly undertones as Robert Walker plays a nutjob trying to lord it over Farley Granger. A pair of hopeless romantics.

Chinatown A chinese puzzle, for the audience and Jack Nicholson, with Faye Dunaway’s flawed iris thrown in.

The Ghost and Mrs Muir A beauty from the classic era, haunting Herrmann score, beautiful photography and appealing Gene Tierney.

Escape from New York You can’t beat the original, why this worked is because Carpenter loves what he’s doing. He’s a good storyteller who provides audience with interesting characters. In any genre.

Days of Wine and Roses Glum and downbeat, played to the hilt by Lemmon and Remick, but somewhat empty at its core, as if director had no other ideas.

Gaslight Old fashioned melodrama as Ingrid Bergman is driven to distraction by her shady husband in his pursuit of her dead Aunty’s jewels. Creepy and effective.

The Relic Interesting combination of voodoo and body horror, but derivative and not very well cast in the lead roles.

The Unforgiven (1960) A Freudian melodrama about miscegenation in the wild west. John Huston goes moody and it kind of works on its own modest level.

The Conversation Classic 70s cinema about politics, paranoia and the main character’s obsession with privacy. Innovative sound and a thrilling plot keeps us on our toes.

A Heart in Winter A thwarted love affair between a violinist and her violin maker. Sexy yet not provocative; haunting yet commonplace; contemplative yet interesting.

A number of shocking moments

Dressed to Kill One of de Palma’s better films, owes a lot to Psycho but steals in style, and the story is better than critics would have you believe.

East of Eden I have always found this a bit stilted, and not at all the classic a lot of people claim it to be. But it grows on you I guess and James Dean has great presence.

Possession A travesty of the 900 page book, but what do you want anyway? The 19^th century lovers go at it hammer and tongs and make Paltrow and Eckhart look anaemic.

French Connection Classic 70s cinema, great car chase, so good you forget how good it is. Hope to see again.

Near Dark A vampire western, sans the gothic clichés. Lance Henricksen looks like he needs a good feed. (Which he gets.)

Sid and Nancy Excellent examination of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen’s life together before their deaths.

Hombre A great cast do justice to interesting Western, with beautiful backdrops and racial sub-text.

Mississippi Burning Racial prejudice in the south; beautifully angry and hasn’t dated one iota.

Eye of the Needle Spy film set on a windswept island with romance and suspense. Old fashioned but fun to watch.

Lone Star A soap opera set in Texas with a complicated plot and a very hot love scene later on.

Andersonville Quasi documentary about prisoners in Andersonville who endured more than was their lot as the Civil War was ending. Harrowing.

California Suite Filmed Neil Simon play about life in a hotel in Los Angeles. Three stories cobbled together but amusing and observant with good perfs.

Darren MacGavin in his funny hat

The Stepfather Excellent horror entry written by Donald Westlake. A serial killer marries women and kills them and their children for not doing well at school. A scary guy.

The Verdict One of Paul Newman’s great performances in his mature years as an alcoholic lawyer with one last case left to redeem himself. Strangely religious and gratifying.

The Exorcist III Effectively hammy, but loyal to the original material, with George C Scott in top form telling Ed Flanders about a carp in his bathtub.

The Seventh Sign A good apocalyptic entry, about a woman who believes her unborn child will be the last child before the end of the world. Who will believe her? Me.

Funny Face Classic Audrey Hepburn as a plain bookstore clerk is swept away to Paris to become a model. Every girl’s dream! Beautiful Gershwin songs make this special.

Drugstore Cowboy Gus van Sant directs. Quirky, funny, about life on the edge with four prescription drug thieves trying to survive onto their next high. Gets religious by the end.

The Godfather Canonised 70s entry, violent, family oriented, Italians out of the mainstream, mafia hitmen buying canoli for their wives and lots of mayhem. A good show.

Blackadder Great Brit comedy series about a cunning public servant surviving the Elizabethan and Regency periods by sucking up to the upper classes. Hilarious and droll.

Ronald Reagan liked this film

Equus A great play is transformed seemingly intact about a disturbed adolescent with a religious obsession for horses. He must conform or sink. Richard Burton helps out.

Carrington A tragic relationship ensues between a woman artist and English writer Lytton Strachey. A wonderful sense of period, this is excellent.

Wolf This is less tedious than it deserves to be. Nicholson gets bitten by wolf and transforms from a beast of a man into a decent law abiding wolf. Pfeiffer goes along for ride.

Reversal of Fortune Plenty of flashbacks but a good examination of guilt and innocence as audience ponders whether Claus Von Bulow fluffed murdering his wife not once, but twice.

Reds A hagiography of American communist John Reed as interpreted by Warren Beatty. Not bad, but too much emphasis on romance at the expense of politics. Good anyway.

Barry Lyndon Seventh heaven cinema. Redmond Barry’s trials and tribulations will keep you on the edge of your seat for its extended running time.

Little Big Man A thinking man’s Forest Gump in the wild west told from the Indian’s point of view. Classic 70s cinema.

The 39 Steps Another early Hitchcock with Robert Donat caught up in a deadly spy ring. Great ride.

Whatever is is, I'm against it

The Third Man Rainy streets, grimy sewers, Vienna was a bad place to be in 1947. A zither and Orson Welles round it off.

Don’t Look Now Some of us can’t look but you should look at this. Things are not as they seem. Or maybe they are.

Frankenstein (1931) Karloff’s outstanding performance is a good selling point for this classic horror entry. Still disturbing.

Altered States Mad scientist experiments with brain, changes into monkey, almost loses his wife. Not as dumb as it sounds.

King Kong (1976) A remake dumber than the original but beautiful scenery and the romantic point is made obvious by end

Elephant Man A mainstream David Lynch film based on true story of civilised circus freak and his desire for acceptance.

Bridge on the River Kwai If war isn’t mad, then at least it’s silly. Guiness an obsessed martinet and a sweaty Holden. Great.

The Invisible Man HG Wells allegory about a scientist taking over the world so he can give it to his girlfriend. Hmm.

Taxi Driver Brilliant, disturbing, but is it also pointless. De Niro goes on rampage and we all go ‘hurrah’. Don’t know anymore.

He's doing it for Flora. True.

Jacob’s Ladder If anyone ever reads this, one cannot say ANYTHING about this film without giving the plot away. So I won’t say anything except that it’s kind of …scary…

Naked Lunch Respectable rendering of classic novel, plenty of gory effects but true to Burroughs vision. Writer’s block is not a pleasant experience, so just keep on writing.

Lifeboat Unsung Hitchcock, terrific character study, if a bit talky. Some get to stay on board, others get tossed over. See if you can guess which ones.

Pretty Poison This sweet young girl hates her mother and finagles her impressionable boyfriend to get rid of her. Funny but not in the right way, which makes it interesting.

The Bedford Incident Another apocalyptic scenario as a mad naval captain plays cat and mouse with a Russian submarine in the Artic. Scary but somehow seems inevitable.

Rebel Without a Cause James Dean’s moment of glory, garish in wide screen, larger than life but somehow touching amidst the conventional melodrama.

Day of the Locust West’s novel gets the treatment and the riot at the end makes sense of the work in its totality. Otherwise, why would it be there. The other Homer Simpson.

American Graffiti Ensemble cast of nobodies who became somebodies is a good enough reason to watch this. Although it’s engaging with plenty of the great songs that were recorded before the Beatles hit.

White Heat James Cagney goes crazy in the clink. Breaks out and causes more mayhem. His ma’s been murdered and all hell breaks loose. Classic noir and vintage Cagney.

Ordinary People Redford beat Scorcese for Best Director Oscar with this. Tyler Moore is a terrible mother. Hutton a neglected child. Sutherland a neglected husband. Bring on therapy.

The Hit Terence Stamp pleads for his life as a pair of henchmen make their way through the Spanish desert and attempt to assassinate him. Existential and essential gangster fare.

Pulp Another one of those ‘is it fiction or real life’ scenarios. By the time it’s over you won’t care, as long as everyone gets out alive. A Michael Caine triumph.

James Dean looking hurt in 'East of Eden'

1984 Don’t’ worry about this being a bore. It isn’t. John Hurt shines as Winston Smith, the last man in Europe with the temerity to use his brains. A definite prophecy of our brainless times.

Lust for Life A biography of Van Gogh. Douglas is neurotic, misunderstood and plain grumpy. The paintings look beautiful but as biography…well.. you decide.

Bride of Frankenstein Iconic gay horror directed by James Whale. Perhaps a little over-rated by the Hollywood boys but nonetheless compelling with a female monster and no Igor.

Lady Caroline Lamb The love affair between Byron and said Lamb. Melodramatic, beautiful to look at, a wonderful evocation of 19^th century Europe. But that’s all.

The Night Strangler/Stalker When TV shows had a reason for being. McGavin as indefatigable journalist investigating the paranormal and in trouble with his superiors. Fun and subversive.

Memento Have to watch it backwards to make any sense, compelling nonetheless. Loss of memory causes problems, but does that make audience delusional?

The Man Who Knew Too Much Is such a thing possible. Apparently, yes.

The best zombie movie ever.

The Wolfman A rueful examination of Nazi persecution of Jews in the Welsh countryside. Siodmak’s journey to Hollywood as a persecuted minority is extolled by the Left as life affirming.

Night of the Living Dead We aren’t dead yet but we deserve to be. The Vietnam war is blamed for practically everything including the zombiefication of Americans. Pity they can’t hit back.

White Zombie Lugosi carries on as a magician in Caribbean who helps a man possess a woman he can neve have. Moody and atmospheric.

The Time Machine George Pal without the puppets as Rod Taylor attempts to socially engineer a group of helpless natives into believing they’re British. What else is new

The Great Gatsby A deluded millionaire attempts to salvage an affair that died long ago. Money is blamed and everyone gets hurt. Lots of Charleston dancing.

Eyes Without a Face Mad French scientist experiments on his daughter. Crazy but easy to take. Like strychnine.

The Damned A rich German family coping with the Nazi’s rise to power. Not very enlightening. Nice uniforms.

On the Beach Melbourne as the last civilized place on earth. Great cast, dour but appropriately so for a movie about the end of the world.

The Lady from Shanghai Misanthropic noir as Welles tries to get a handle on his Irish accent. Hayworth looks gorgeous and has a horrible husband.

Nixon Hopkins is miscast in title role but there are many other actors playing real-life characters who are stupendous. Stone’s somewhat personal vision of his bete noir, but arresting nonetheless.

Cassandra Crossing An all star cast liven up this disaster movie about an infectious disease breakout on a train for rich people. Harris and Loren make proceedings interesting.

A pensive Bogart pondering the infinite

Valley of the Dolls A pulp novel becomes a pulp movie. This is so bad one can feel affection for it. Sharon Tate’s bust exercises a stand out. (No pun intended)

Jagged Edge Jeff Bridges is creepy as a man suspected of killing his wife, and has the good fortune to have his defence lawyer fall in love with him. Ludicrous but somehow believable.

Still of the Night A great role for Meryl Streep as a strange girl who may know more than what she thinks she does. Psychiatrist Scheider investigates.

Dead Zone Walken is haunted as a medium who believes he can change the course of history. A cautionary handbook for all those people out there who think they can predict the future.

Midnight Express Life in a Turkish prison. Lots of hurla burla and a real life story replaced by a load of bunkum that never actually happened. Good Mroder score and potent.

Mary Reilly Julia Roberts is very good in title role, as the maid of Dr Jekyll who falls for her, as does his alter ego, Mr. Hyde. She is won by neither.

JFK This is exciting stuff with great cast, terrific detective work, terrifically edited and photographed. Except for the melodramatic and unnecessary family scenes this gets the highest recommendation.

Yes, Minister Jim Hacker is a hapless minister utterly dependent on his head public servant Humphrey Appleby, even though he doesn’t know it. Hilarious and droll and still prescient.

Whicha one is winnin', preacher?

African Queen Classic John Huston adventure about a religious spinster and a sea captain’s attempt to sink a German battleship in Africa c1914. Excellent entertainment.

Phantom of the Opera Lon Chaney pleads with Mary Philbin not to tear off his mask. But what does she do? Oh dear….Massive makeup job done by Chaney himself. Very tasty.

Absence of Malice A silly young slip of a girl thinks she’s a journalist and gets Paul Newman into all kinds of trouble. When will these feminists ever learn?

The Way We Were Streisand is great and sings the title song; Redford is a good actor and keeps up. Lots of politics surprisingly enough but the romance is paramount and verrry sad.

True Confessions This is a great unsung title. Duvall and de Niro work great together playing brothers up to their armpits in the death of the Black Dahlia. They learn to stick together.

Dr Strangelove Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here. This is the war room! Sellers has a least three roles, George C Scott has only one. I think that’s unfair.

The Stand A very long television movie in four chapters but an excellent version by King himself. Gary Sinise is handsome and heroic. Molly Ringwald adequate.

The War Lover Little known Steve McQueen title with Robert Wagner as his sidekick. They play pilots in the 2^nd world war who seem to be enjoying themselves. Unusual but profound.

The Romantic Fate of Authority Figures in the films of Alfred Hitchcock

2011-10-31T13:05:00.000+11:00

Grant, Bergman and that kiss from 'Notorious'

Men, more often than not, are normally cast as authority figures in Hitchcock movies. (The glaring exception to this ‘rule’ could certainly be ‘Strangers on a Train’ where no authority figure actually exists within the story. There are two dim possibilities: Bruno’s father is plotted against by his son, as a way of punishing him for his inadequacy as a reliable authority figure. Hitch perennial Leo G Carroll as Ruth Roman’s father is an authority figure, but elderly, and a totally unthreatening one.) Usually, but not always, the male authority figures in Hitchcock films are police officers or government agents finding themselves in an emotional conundrum, or rather a state of emotional ambiguity, in that they tend to fall in love with women who may be either perpetrators of a crime, or conversely, the victims of wrongdoing.

The mens’ dilemma takes up a large part of the sub-text of a number of Hitchcock films. These sub-texts unfold as the plot reveals the leading (or supporting character’s) feelings of guilt toward the female object(s) of their desire. The male characters are left with no other choice than to take responsibility for their own neuroses, ascertaining (for example), the harshness to which they have exposed the woman to danger, when they originally wanted to protect her from such. Equilibrium between the sexes is eventually restored by the end, with the woman taming the man and the man accepting with resignation, that his single status has been curtailed by the woman. Often, the struggle between the sexes is solved by the woman dying, rarely the man, or sometimes but rarely, both.

Grant and Saint. The audience excused Cary lots of things

SABOTAGE (1936): How Sylvia Sidney and her police officer friend/lover escape justice by a hairsbreadth, because he interprets her plight as circumstantial, and not of her own making

NOTORIOUS (1945): How agent Cary Grant is at first solicitious toward Ingrid Bergman, then becomes hostile towards her as she accepts an offer to spy on her father’s friends who are Nazis, whom she hates for being un-American

VERTIGO (1958): How ex-policeman James Stewart falls in love with the mysterious Kim Novak, with no knowledge of her true identity or the extent to which he is hurting his loyal girlfriend Midge

NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1958): How advertising executive Cary Grant is mistaken for a secret agent and is helped by Eva Marie Saint, who is actually attempting to get him to help her out of a sticky situation with the sinister James Mason. He does not realise this and consequently is always (inadvertently) placing her in danger when in fact he is falling in love with her and wants to help her.

PSYCHO (1969): Where the audience is led to believe that there is the possibility of Arbogast the private detective falling in love with Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) before he even finds out that she’s been killed

MARNIE (1964): How Sean Connery is wise to the ways of Tippy Hedren who is a thief and a liar, but falls madly in love with her anyway

I would argue that as far as Hitchcock is concerned, the guys appear to be losers, at least when it comes to romance. The least of these is Cary Grant. Grant avoids being arrested for murder in ‘Suspicion’; escapes to the hospital and presumably lives happily ever after with Ingrid Bergman at the end of ‘Notorious’ and then travels happily into the tunnel of love with Eva Marie Saint in his arms at the conclusion of ‘North by Northwest’. But as far as romance is concerned, most of Hitchcock’s male characters are living in chumpsville.

How James Stewart is an authority figure in ‘Rope’, but doesn’t have a love interest at all, and he loses the love of his life when Kim Novak falls out of a church window at the conclusion of ‘Vertigo’.

How Laurence Olivier spends an inordinate amount of time wringing his hands and feeling guilty and miserable in ‘Rebecca’, concerning a woman who doesn’t even appear on-screen, when he is married to the young, attractive and willing Joan Fontaine.

Milland, Kelly and Cummings in 'Dial M'

In ‘Dial M for Murder’ how Ray Milland botches murdering his wife, (Grace Kelly) and ends up being found out, even when the audience is given every indication that he’s going to get away with it

How Robert Donat supposedly hates being literally manacled to Madeleine Carroll in ‘The 39 Steps’, when she is gorgeous, classy, intelligent and single

How Margaret Lockwood brushes off Michael Redgrave constantly in ‘the Lady Vanishes’ when he refuses to believe her preposterous stories

The Freudian manner in which Jessica Tandy punishes Rod Taylor for being her son instead of her husband in ‘The Birds’ and his cavalier treatment of love interests Tippy Hedren and Suzanne Pleshette as a result

None of these guys have what you would call a satisfying love life. So, how do Hitchcock’s characters rate (both male and female) when it comes to marriage and family? Hitchcock condescends to look the happy American family up-and-down like a frustrated monk as it turns out to be distinctly wanting. He is more interested in the neuroses and dysfunction within the family unit but appears totally disinterested glorifying the concept of ‘the family’ for any kind of ideological purpose.

How Vera Miles goes quietly insane by the mere suspicion of whether husband Henry Fonda is guilty (or not) of armed robbery in ‘The Wrong Man’. The family here is portrayed as positive and nurturing, but extremely vulnerable to circumstances outside its control.

Handcuffed to the girl who double crossed him!

In ‘Marnie’, Marnie’s problematic relationship with her mother is explained as a difficulty in being brought up within a one parent family. Her relationship with male authority figure Sean Connery is difficult and painful. Her fear of the colour red; her inability to have a connected relationship with a man; her inability to lead an ‘honest’ life. All of this is blamed upon her dysfunctional relationship with her mother and her inability to find the ideal man. Sean Connery has a difficult part to play. He is portrayed as the bad guy who wants to constrain Marnie for no discernible reason. He says he loves her but constantly violates her freedom and her person in contradiction to his pronouncements.

John Gavin’s difficult private life in ‘Psycho’, as well as Janet Leigh’s unspoken dissatisfaction with her sister and other unnamed family members. Gavin and Leigh’s relationship is largely explained by the similarity of their emotional backgrounds.

The parents of Joan Fontaine in ‘Suspicion’ are portrayed in such a way that they are to blame for her not being married and for her being supposedly ‘unattractive’. Fontaine’s parents are cold, aloof and remote without the slightest concern for her well-being as she falls into the arms of Cary Grant and an uncertain future.

Turbulent relationship

Hitchcock’s ultimate blonde, Grace Kelly appeared in three of his movies. In ‘Rear Window’ and ‘Dial M for Murder’ her parents are never mentioned. In ‘To Catch a Thief’ she has a mother. Perhaps portraying a glamour girl with parents was not thought of as good box office, and even off-putting to male members of the audience. Kelly is redeemed as being too good to be a murderess in ‘Dial M for Murder; and then rewarded for being a good sport by nabbing James Stewart for a husband in ‘Rear Window’. She is punished for having a boyfriend whilst married in ‘Dial M’ and lectured by James Stewart for being too bossy and possessive in ‘Rear Window’. But she remains an unimpeachable object of unreachable desire throughout her Hitchcock period, whether married or single and is never held responsible for any of the mishaps of her male co-stars in any of the films mentioned.

Sylvia Sidney worked for Lang as well. What a woman

In many of Hitchcock’s films, family members are either remote or completely absent. Cary Grant has a mother in ‘North by Northwest’ but no parents in ‘Suspicion’ and ‘Notorious’. In a number of Hitchcock’s early British films, such as ‘Blackmail’, ‘Sabotage’ and ‘Secret Agent’, family life is portrayed in a somewhat positive light, but emotional support is bound to be withdrawn from a family member who may do the wrong thing, or get into some kind of trouble. Sylvia Sidney in ‘Sabotage’ is placed in an untenable position after losing her younger brother and wreaking revenge on her husband. She has no one else to turn to except a police officer who is sympathetic to her plight. In ‘Blackmail’, a young woman defends herself from being raped but does not begin to imagine that the authorities or her family will help her; in ‘Secret Agent’ the concept of the family unit is gently satirised, as John Gielgud poses as Madeleine Carroll’s husband when they are actually not connected in any way at all.

Despite acknowledging that women can have difficult and compromised lives, it would appear that if you’re as beautiful and glamorous as Grace Kelly or Madeleine Carroll, this can tide you over the other gigantic waves of a demanding life. Today, such an attitude may seem a tad, well... ludicrous, but it could be argued, what else is there? A woman should have her family to fall back on, whilst men only have women, whilst both men and women seem to do nothing but misunderstand, and mistreat each other. Thus men's fate is the struggle in attempting to ascertain the woman's veracity, and being routed in the attempt. Thus is the sad lot of of male authority figures in the films of Alfred Hitchcock.