"The Frisco Kid" is a gentle buddy comedy Western made in 1979 when star Gene Wilder was riding high and post-"Star Wars" Harrison Ford was a rising star. The script was not a hot property, as it had plenty of people's fingerprints on it by the time Wilder signed on to the film. Ford was a major fan of Wilder's and was eager to co-star. Seasoned veteran Robert Aldrich, best known for his macho action movies such as "The Dirty Dozen", "Flight of the Phoenix", "Ulzana's Raid" and "The Longest Yard", was signed as director. It was seemingly an odd fit but Aldrich had directed the 1963 Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin Western comedy "4 for Texas". The film finds Wilder well-cast as Avram, a somewhat bumbling rabbinical student in Poland who is chosen to travel to San Francisco to serve as the rabbi for a new order. As a reward, he is shown a photograph of the beautiful young daughter of the religious leader in the area who will become Avram's bride. The trip from Poland to California would be arduous enough in the days of the old West under any circumstance but things go particularly wrong for Avram. Upon arriving on the east coast of America, he's told the ship he had booked passage on has been significantly delayed. He befriends three men with a wagon who say they are going to San Francisco. He opts to join them but along the way they rob him and leave him penniless in the desert. A group of Mormons save him and give him money to continue his now seemingly impossible journey across a hellish landscape of deserts and other natural barriers, as well as dangerous Indian tribes. He has a chance encounter with Tommy (Harrison Ford), a low-key friendly young guy who occasionally robs banks. The two men make for an "Odd Couple" scenario as they bond in friendship. Tommy feels sorry for the hapless Avram and agrees to escort him to San Francisco. The film chronicles their adventures and misadventures along the way, some comical, others frightening.
Today's film comedies are largely defined by an abundance of cynicism, cruelty and gross-out jokes, so one is hesitant to be harsh to the bygone era of family-friendly big screen yucks that "The Frisco Kid" epitomizes. There are some genuine giggles in the film, particularly due to Wilder's fish-out-of-water reaction to American traditions and the chemistry between Wilder and Ford is genuine and enjoyable. At other times, the film is sentimental and occasionally touching, as in the scenes in which our hero rabbi risks his life to save the sacred Torah he must deliver to his synagogue. However, the script by Michael Elias and Frank Shaw is meandering and has quite a few slow spots. There is a completely extraneous sequence in which our heroes are captured by hostile Indians that employs the age-old joke of having the tribal chief actually be a sophisticated, seemingly educated man. The scene drags on forever and goes nowhere. At 2 hours, the movie is about a half-hour too long. At times it seems endless and one can only wonder if a 90 minute version wouldn't have been more enjoyable. Sometimes less is more."The Frisco Kid" isn't a bad film, but it is bloated and Robert Aldrich's direction is workman-like and uninspired. It will primarily be of interest to Harrison Ford fans as an example of the eclectic types of films he appeared in after the original "Star Wars".
The region-free Warner Archive Blu-ray looks very good indeed. The only extra is the original trailer.
Click here to order from the Cinema Retro Movie Store
Lee Marvin and Charles Bronson epitomized "the strong, silent type" of leading men. Neither of them were very enthused about promoting their films on publicity tours but occasionally they would bite the bullet and go before the press. In 1981, Marvin and Bronson, who had co-starred in "The Dirty Dozen" (1967), reunited for director Peter Hunt's adventure film "Death Hunt". Probably due to contractual obligations, the men made some joint press appearances. This interview with host Bobbie Wygant consists mostly of the usual softball questions as she tries to run out the clock with a polite Marvin and a seemingly bored Bronson.
Preston
Sturges’ filmmaking career in Hollywood between 1940-1944 is unparalleled. He
is often called the first “writer-director” who would helm his own screenplays
(actually this is untrue, since Charles Chaplin had been doing it since 1914,
and Orson Welles was also doing it in the early 40s), but there is no question
that Sturges became an auteur of sorts in those glorious five years. His flame
burned brightly for that short period, and then it sadly weakened and
eventually blew out.
One
of the reasons for the filmmaker’s demise was the unfortunate production of The
Great Moment, a biopic of a 19th Century dentist named Dr. William Thomas
Green Morton, who is (mostly) credited as discovering the use of ether as an
anesthetic for surgery.
Sturges,
who was known for his acerbic comedies like The Great McGinty (1940), The
Lady Eve (1941), and Sullivan’s Travels (1942), was apparently
obsessed with Morton’s story and had been working on a script as early as 1939
to be directed by Henry Hathaway. That project was shelved, and then Sturges
began his run of directing his own scripts in 1940. He resurrected the Morton biopic
on his own in 1942. It was based on the book Triumph Over Pain (1940) by
René Fülüp-Miller,
and that also became the title of Sturges’ script. The film was shot before the
making of The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek and Hail the Conquering Hero!
(both released in 1944). But Paramount, Sturges’ studio, didn’t like the Morton
biopic Sturges had made, and they took control away from the writer-director,
retitled it The Great Moment, and re-edited it. The film was finally
released two years after its production in 1944, after Miracle and Conquering
Hero. By then, Sturges had already left Paramount in disgust. The Great
Moment bombed at the box office and critics hated it. Sturges made a few
more films for other studios, but his career never regained the peak of his
earlier Paramount successes.
The
Great Moment exhibits
how Dr. Morton (Joel McCrea) discovers that ether allows him to successfully
pull a tooth from patient Eben Frost (Sturges’ stalwart character actor William
Demarest), so he develops a specially shaped bottle from which patients can
inhale the ether vapors. History has shown that Morton pulled pieces of his
“idea” from other doctors and his mentor, surgeon Professor Warren (Harry
Carey), and the story illustrates this. After Morton’s discovery, he endured
attacks to his claim, especially when he attempts to patent the process. The
medical profession is quick to condemn Morton for what they perceive as
“monetizing” the method by patenting it, even though Morton has no intention of
making a profit. He simply doesn’t want to reveal the ingredients of what’s in
the bottle. Morton and his wife, Elizabeth (Betty Field), withstand hardships
as Morton stubbornly pursues his claims in courts and even in a petition to the
president of the United States.
Doesn’t
sound like a comedy, does it? Well, it isn’t. There are humorous bits and
pieces in The Great Moment (mostly from Demarest), but the studio was
correct in determining that the film was not in keeping with the previous
“Preston Sturges Comedies.” Never mind that Sturges had likely made a good
biopic with a message about sacrifice. Paramount deleted scenes, rearranged the
narrative flow, and emphasized the few comic bits—and then they marketed the
film as if it were a Preston Sturges Comedy. It’s no wonder that
audiences were disappointed.
In
viewing The Great Moment today, one can see that it’s not a good film. It
really is “anesthesia on celluloid.” It is, as the late filmmaker Peter
Bogdanovich calls it in a supplement included on the new Kino Lorber disk, a
“mess.” The thing is, Sturges can’t be blamed for it. But for Preston Sturges
fans, it is an interesting document. We can see that there are indeed Sturges’
fingerprints all through the picture, and many of the Sturges “stock company”
are present (such as Franklin Pangborn, Porter Hall, and others). The irony and
bite that is pure Sturges is often there in the dialogue.
In
short, The Great Moment is a great failure, but one that illustrates how
Hollywood tended to squash talented auteurs who bucked the system in the 1940s
(like Sturges and Welles).
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray edition looks pristine and sharp in its glorious black and
white. The disk includes the previously mentioned supplement, “Triumph Over
Pain: A Celebration of Preston Sturges,” which is a three-way Zoom call between
Tom Sturges (Preston’s son), Bogdanovich, and film historian Constantine Nasr. This
is a lot of fun and very informative (perhaps more entertaining than the
feature film!). Also of interest is a lengthy Introduction by Nasr, which goes
into the history of the problematic production. The theatrical trailers for
this and other Sturges’ releases round out the package.
The
Great Moment is
for fans of Preston Sturges, to be sure, but also for historians interested in documentation
of Hollywood’s miscalculations and bone-headed decisions when it came to
filmmakers who likely knew much more about what they were doing than the
studios behind them.
Just as the school holidays were about
to start, way back in the December of 1982, ITV began previewing their upcoming
festive slate. In amongst the sleigh-bell soundtracked shots of Morecambe &
Wise, Ted Rogers and Mike Yarwood et al, Richard Kiel grabbed a thick metal
cable and bit into it with his silver dentures. This little tit-bit was all any
of us kids could talk about in school the next day. ‘Did you see it? Moonraker’s
going to be on TV on Boxing Day!’
I can’t remember anything else about
that Christmas, only the desperate excitement in the run-up to watching the
biggest, best James Bond film ever made! And back then, it was both of those
things because we were, y’know, kids.
Moonraker was (and remains) the entry-level
kids’ Bond movie. Once you realise that the concept of a space shuttle full of
American marines armed with laser guns being fired into space is as
intelligence-insultingly absurd as the idea of a double-taking pigeon, the
lustre wears off rapidly.
And so it came to pass that over the
years, the most successful Bond movie yet released saw its reputation take an
almighty plummet, hovering at the bottom of most Bond popularity charts; an
overblown, camp nadir that even Cubby Broccoli recognised as ‘a bit too much’ (by
contrast, the next Bond adventure, For Your Eyes Only was a pointedly
earth-bound gadget-free caper based on the retrieval of what looked like a ZX
Spectrum keyboard).
Admitting that Moonraker was
one of your favourite Bond movies in the company of cineastes was a faux pas
akin to suggesting that the best Star Trek movie was the fifth one, or
that Robert De Niro never did it for you as an actor until he started making
those hilarious Meet The Parents movies.
The Daniel Craig years - in which Bond
was transformed from a smooth, quip-spouting, all-action Lothario into a
tortured, reluctant assassin, as bruised and broken on the inside as he is on
the surface - made the comic nonsense of Moonraker seem even more
ludicrous, unforgivably so.
Yet all of a sudden, Bond’s misbegotten
Star Wars cash-in has recently started to find voices of support piping
up in its defence. Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avary could have chosen from
hundreds of thousands of other movies to launch their new Video Archives
podcast, but for episode 1, out of every movie ever made they went for Moonraker.
Of the two film-makers, Avary is the
one pleading the case forthe
defence.In time-honoured tradition, he
considered it beneath his contempt when it was first released in 1979. “I was
absolutely dubious of it. I hated it.
“I’ve noticed that when I see films
that I dismissed quickly back in the day; I sometimes look at them now and I am
seeing things and appreciating things that I just wasn’t prepared for back
then.” Among those things that Avary now appreciated were Ken Adams’s beautiful
sets, John Barry’s lush score, the still-impressive special effects, Michael
Lonsdale’s cold dismissive performance, and the opening skydiving stunt, which
Avary & Tarantino both cite as one of their favourite pre-titles sequence
in the series: ‘Real people are doing this!’
Avary continued, ‘It’s a spy film, it’s
an action movie, it’s a romance, it’s a travelogue, it’s a sci-fi…it’s also a
horror film. It switches its tone constantly. It becomes whatever it needs to be
in the moment. It’s a comedy, it’s even a western at one point.’ He even
confesses to crying at the end when Jaws finally speaks.
Tarantino’s enjoyment is more
circumspect. He has little enthusiasm for Lewis Gilbert’s handling of action
scenes, especially the gondola chase. At one point he bellows, ‘Any movie that
cuts to a reaction shot of animals doing comic double-takes can never be taken
seriously under any circumstances!’
The Video Archives Moonraker reevaluation
followed on the heels of its surprise appearance in the 2021 Marvel movie Black
Widow, in which Scarlett Johansson’s superhero assassin enjoys some
much-needed downtime by watching Moonraker - a film she’s seen so often
she can recite the dialogue from memory.
Moonraker was, to Johansson’s character, what
it is to so many of us: a comfort watch (it also serves as a witty foretaste of
the rest of Black Widow; a film that ends up set aboard a colossal
airborne sky-station which our hero destroys in mid-flight).
It has also taken on an unlikely
contemporary resonance, thanks to the intergalactic antics of a new breed of
super-billionaires like Jeff Bezos, Richard Branson and - especially - Elon
Musk, who have recently been playing with their little rocket ships and all,
like Drax, clearly obsessed by the conquest of space.
Watching these space-fixated moguls,
all of them rich beyond the wealth of nations, seemingly sharing Drax’s casual
disdain for the trite pauper-concerns of mere earthlings, Moonraker’s
plot suddenly becomes targeted future-satire from the least-likely source.
Then again, it could just be something
far simpler. This new warmth towards Moonraker might well have stemmed
from the loss of Roger Moore, who became the first Bond to head to the great
casino in the sky in 2017. There has rarely been a more beloved actor, and the
shock of suddenly not having him around any more may have led many to
reconsider the legacy of someone we have now lost forever.
Moore’s Bond movies - built around his
unique presentation of the character - were unabashed entertainment. They were
designed at an eye-wateringly huge cost by some of the most talented and
dedicated artists in the industry for one simple, noble purpose: to give family
audiences a thrill ride and make them happy.
Produced for a then-staggering
$34million, Moonraker was released at a time of economic stagnation,
constant strikes, international unrest and unremitting gloom. No wonder
audiences rushed into cinemas to bask in its technicolor glamour, warm humour
and impossible silliness. No wonder its charms seem so suddenly appealing once
again.
David
Lynch’s challenging 1997 feature, Lost Highway, has had a tortured home
video release history. After an initial VHS release, and then one on DVD,
rights issues and a lack of interest by media companies prevented a Blu-ray
release in the USA for many years. Less-than-ideal quality imported Blu-ray
editions from various countries were circulated among Lynch fans and collectors.
Kino Lorber finally put out a decent Blu-ray in 2019, but it was criticized by
home video review sites and by Lynch himself as having inferior quality, as it didn’t
go through the stringent approval process to which the director was accustomed.
Cinema Retro reviewed that edition, finding it not terrible and
certainly adequate enough since it seemed that it was all that we were ever
going to get.
Now,
however, The Criterion Collection has issued a new, director-approved 4K UHD
edition that is an astonishingly gorgeous digital restoration with a new 5.1
surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack and an alternate one of uncompressed
stereo. Criterion’s Lost Highway can be purchased as a 2-disk set
containing a 4K UHD disk of the film alone plus a Blu-ray disk of the film and
all the supplements, or in a single disk Blu-ray package.
Much
of what this reviewer has to say about the film itself is repeated from the
earlier 2019 review.
Lost
Highway is
a disturbing and surreal work of art from Luis Buñuel’s heir apparent,
and it’s a doozy. Lynch described the film as a “psychogenic fugue,” which is a
fancy term for a dissociative disorder. The story concerns musician Fred
Madison (Bill Pullman), who is having marriage trouble with his beautiful wife,
Renee (Patricia Arquette). An outside force seems to be watching and harassing
the couple by leaving intimate videotapes of themselves on their
doorstep. Throw in some nightmares and the appearance of a “mystery man” (the
very creepy Robert Blake) with powers that could only exist as dream logic, and
Fred eventually loses it. Suddenly he’s arrested for killing his wife. But
then—uh oh—while he’s sitting in a jail cell, he becomes… someone else.
The cops find Pete Dayton (Balthazar Getty) in Fred’s place. Puzzled, they let Pete
go, since he’s not the man they want. Now there’s a kind of alternate universe
thing going on, because Patricia Arquette now plays Alice, the mistress of the
cruel Mr. Eddy (Robert Loggia), who may in truth be a porn producer named Dick
Laurent.
Confused?
Many audience members were baffled at the time of Lost Highway’s initial
release. The picture marked the first in what might be called the “fugue
trilogy” (the other parts being Mulholland Drive and INLAND EMPIRE),
in which main characters become other people during the flow of the tales.
After a second or third viewing and examining Lynch’s narrative conceits in the
other movies, one can get a sense of what it’s all about.
And
this reviewer is not going to tell you. Just know that Lost Highway is
about a man who murders his wife, and he is unable to live with himself—or
inside his own mind—because of it. The film generates a good amount of dread,
and it is pure Lynch. It marks a transition from earlier, more
narrative-friendly pictures, to more dreamlike, experimental works of art that
defy description—other than that they are “David Lynch Films.”
Peter
Deming’s cinematography is fully exploited in Criterion’s new restoration. His
use of light and shadow is remarkable, and the bits in which Fred walks into a
dark hallway and disappears, and then later reappears from the
blackness, are canny metaphors for the themes in the movie.
As
opposed to the earlier Kino disk, Criterion has included some choice
supplements. Most notable is the 1997 feature documentary, Pretty as a
Picture: The Art of David Lynch, which served as a behind-the-scenes
“making of Lost Highway” piece as well as a look at Lynch’s career as an
artist (painting/sculpture) and filmmaker. Highway cast members and crew
are interviewed along with Lynch himself, and there are clips from earlier
films, too. An audio-only excerpt from the audiobook of Lynch and Kristine McKenna’s
biography, Room to Dream, covers the period in the mid-90s when Highway
was made. Two archival featurettes about the making of the film and
interviews with cast/crew are also welcome. The theatrical re-release trailer
rounds out the package. The booklet feature interview excerpts from the
publication Lynch on Lynch. Note that the feature film does not have
chapter breaks, in keeping with other Lynch-approved Blu-ray and DVD releases.
Lost
Highway has
become more mysterious and admirable with age, and Criterion’s new release does
the work justice. For fans of David Lynch, dark—very dark—crime dramas,
surreal cinema, and bravura filmmaking.
The 60th anniversary celebrations of the James Bond film franchise continue on Amazon Prime:
All of the feature films will be available for streaming beginning today in the USA and numerous other international markets for "a limited time", though the specifics were not provided.
"The Sound of 007" official documentary about the music from the series also begins streaming today.
"The Sound of 007: Live from the Royal Albert Hall", a telecast of the recent concert, is also available for streaming.
Cinema Memories: A People's History of Cinema-going in
1960s Britain
Melvyn Stokes, Matthew Jones & Emma Pett
Bloomsbury/
British Film Institute
Published:
March 2022
Hardback
237
pages
10
b&w illustrations
ISBN:
9781911239888
RRP:
£76
One evening in June
2016 at the Picturehouse on Piccadilly Circus, cinemagoers were transported
back fifty years, where a uniformed commissionaire made them queue outside for a
screening of One Million Years B.C. Once inside there were usherettes, a
cinema manager chain-smoking and shouting at the staff, dozens of people sporting
the best Sixties fashion, cavemen and cavewomen (cavepeople?) dragging
unwitting participants into some neanderthal roleplay (including this writer),
and even a film producer with a dollybird on his arm. After witnessing a
competition to find the next Hammer glamour star, which was interrupted by
placard-wielding feminists, the public were finally able to enter the cinema
screen. The experience did not end there though: during the film there was
constant disturbance from usherettes with torches and people fighting or
sneaking in and out of the fire exit. Once it was all over the audience stood
for the national anthem (or ran out in mock disgust). This was no ordinary
evening at the cinema, this was a fantastic event organised by Dr. Matthew
Jones of De Montfort University (the cinema manager himself, whose performance
was so convincing that the Picturehouse received complaints from the public
about his behaviour towards the usherettes), with the aim of bringing to life the
fantastic research project ‘Cultural Memory and British Cinema-going of the
1960s’.
Through
questionnaires and interviews with hundreds of people over a three-year period,
the project gathered memories of what it was like to go to the cinema in the
1960s. Given the age of participants this meant that most of the memories were
connected to recollections of childhood and adolescence, of first dates and
first sexual experiences, of happiness and occasional danger, and of community
and political awareness. This of course makes sense. When one considers cinemagoing,
in particular those favourite cinemas of one’s youth, it is the whole
experience that is thought of fondly, not just the film itself; there are the
posters outside and in the foyer, the elaborate décor, the cinema manager, the
box office, the concessions and then the screen itself, where often one came in
after the film had started. There were usherettes in uniforms armed with
torches to make sure no one was getting too carried away on the back row, or to
police single men moving too close to younger audience members. There was a
thick smoky haze, which was not affected by attempts to have a separate
non-smoking section of the auditorium, and some cinemas were art deco palaces whilst
others were literal fleapits.
This terrific book
brings together the results of this research in a non-immersive experience which
is sure to bring back memories of the reader’s own cinema memories. The book is
organised into topics, with the memories of the ‘Swinging Sixties’ both
conforming to established cultural history as well as questioning it. After
all, the Sixties were not swinging for everyone, and it often depended on
whether you lived in the north or the south. Some people do remember the films
of course, and the stars, many of whom were role models and fashion icons. In
the chapter on post-colonial audiences, such as the ‘Windrush Generation’, some
participants recall learning about English culture and behaviour by attending
the cinema. Audience memories of Hollywood are also discussed, as are those who
recalled attending European and world cinema, often in a more arthouse-type
cinema than the usual family cinema or fleapit.
This research is an
excellent reminder of the importance of the cinema experience in that
culturally-significant decade (political changes and their impacts on the
public, such as the legalisation of both abortion and homosexuality in 1967 are
discussed in reference to films such as Alfie and Victim), and it
also serves to point out just how much has changed over the last fifty years:
intermissions are rare, the smoking has thankfully gone, and popcorn has
replaced the choc ice as the snack of choice. Cinema Memories: A People's
History of Cinema-going in 1960s Britain may provoke nostalgia in some
older readers, whilst for younger readers it’s a fascinating window into an
almost lost world. Admittedly it’s not quite the same as that night out at the
cinema in 2016, but at least you are less likely to have to pretend to be a
caveman.
Kino Lorber has released a Blu-ray edition of the 1965 comedy Strange Bedfellows, which existed primarily to reunite Rock Hudson and Gina Lollobrigida, who had a box-office hit with Come September several years before. Like most of the romantic comedies of the era, there is little to separate this from a standard sitcom episode aside from the running time. Hudson plays a London-based executive on the rise who spontaneously marries a tempestuous Italian bombshell artist played by Lollobrigida. The newlyweds find their mutually insatiable sex drives are the only thing they have in common. Politically conservative Hudson is constantly at odds with his wife's liberal activism. They soon separate but after seven years, Hudson has a reason to stall the divorce proceedings he has put in place. Seems his even more conservative boss wants to promote him to be his right hand man- on the proviso that he is happily married. The contrived plot finds Hudson trying to swallow his pride and woo his wife back- despite the fact that she already has a British lover, Edward Judd.
The film ambles from one predictable, over-played scene to another, though there are some genuine laughs along the way. Hudson and Lollbrigida do have genuine chemistry on-screen and there is a very amusing supporting cast that includes Gig Young, Terry-Thomas, Arthur Haynes, Nancy Kulp, Bernard Fox and and the late, great Cinema Retro contributor Joe Sirola, who offers a very funny turn as a perverted sculptor. The most amusing aspect of the film is rather unintentional- the now laughably cliched presentation of life in England. In one scene, people can't get home because London is covered in a pea-soup like fog, an enduring legend that stemmed from the Victorian era when the city was often shrouded in pollution, not fog. Taxi drivers all speak with Cockney accents and call everyone 'guv. Ironically, only a small bit of second unit footage was even filmed in Old Blighty. The only on location footage featuring the stars is confined to a shot or two of Edward Judd and an opening scene of Rock Hudson walking along the Thames. One might ask why no additional footage of Hudson was shot on location. The answer was probably moolah. It would have cost Universal a tidy sum to deal with the logistics of shooting in the midst of a major city. So the studio reverted back to an economic model and "London" was recreated very unconvincingly on the Universal back lot. One sequence that was played for laughs has a more subtle aspect of humor to it when viewed today: Hudson reluctantly sharing a bed with Judd. (Hudson shared similar scene when he bedded down with Tony Randall in Send Me No Flowers, leading one to believe that he was probably in on the joke in the days when he was still very much in the closet.) Like most of these types of comedies, the finale features the entire cast coming together in a big chaotic scene. This time, it's Lollobrigida's scheme to scandalize London by riding through town as Lady Godvia. It's a mark of the movie's prudishness, however, that she is clad in neck-to-toe flesh colored body suit. Some scandal. The film's uninspired direction by Melvin Frank doesn't completely negate the fun of watching two genuine screen legends at the peak of their careers.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray features a pin-sharp transfer that only makes it more obvious how much of the film relies on shoddy rear-screen projection. The disc features an informative commentary track by film historian Eddy Von Mueller and it's admirable that Kino Lorber continues to provide these tracks on movies that are routine at best. Even films that are artistic failures often have many interesting tales relevant to their production and Strange Bedfellows is no exception. There is also the original trailer and gallery of other trailers from KL featuring the two legendary stars.
One criticism that has never been used to describe the James Bond films is that they are corny. That may not be the case any longer. An Illinois farm owned by diehard 007 fans happens to be the site of the world's largest corn maze and this year, they've immortalized the Bond actors in the most unique way possible. However, there is a flaw that will be fatal for Bond fans: the maze does not show George Lazenby. Can't "the other fella" ever get a break? Maybe next year they can do a sequel featuring Barry Nelson and David Niven. Click here for more.
The first African-American to direct a major film for a majorHollywood
studio was Gordon Parks, whose feature film debut "The Learning Tree"
was released in 1969. Parks may have shattered the glass ceiling but
there wasn't a tidal wave of opportunities that immediately opened for
other minority filmmakers, in part because there were so few with any
formal training in the art. One beneficiary of Parks' achievement was
Ossie Davis, who was internationally respected as a well-rounded artist.
He was a triple threat: actor, director and writer but his directing
skills had been relegated to the stage. In 1970 Davis co-wrote the
screenplay for and directed "Cotton Comes to Harlem", a major production
for United Artists. The film was based on a novel by African-American
writer Chester Himes and proved to be pivotal in ushering in what became
known as the Blaxploitation genre. In reality, it's debatable whether
"Cotton" really is a Blaxploitation film. While most of the major roles
are played by black actors, the term "Blaxploitation" has largely come
to symbolize the kinds of goofy, low-budget films that are fondly
remembered as guilty pleasures. However, "Cotton"- like Gordon Parks's
"Shaft" films that would follow- boasts first class production values
and top talent both in front of and behind the cameras. Regardless, the
movie had sufficient impact at the boxoffice to inspire a seemingly
endless barrage of Black-oriented American films that were all the rage
from the early to mid-1970s. The Blaxploitation fever burned briefly but
shone brightly and opened many doors for minority actors.
The film was shot when New York City was in the midst of a
precipitous decline in terms of quality of life. Crime was soaring, the
infrastructure was aging and the city itself would be on the verge of
bankruptcy a few years later. Harlem was among the hardest hit areas in
terms of the economy. The once dazzling jewel of a neighborhood had
boasted popular nightclubs, theaters and restaurants that attracted
affluent white patrons. By the mid-to-late 1960s, however, that had
changed radically. Street crimes, organized gangs and the drug culture
spread rapidly, making Harlem a very dangerous place to be. It was
foreboding enough if you were black but it was considered a "Forbidden
Zone" for most white people, who spent their money elsewhere, thus
exacerbating the decline of the neighborhoods. "Cotton Comes to Harlem"
serves as an interesting time capsule of what life was like in the area,
having been shot during this period of decline. Director Davis was
considered royalty in Harlem. Despite his success in show business, he
and his equally acclaimed wife, actress Ruby Dee, never "went
Hollywood". They stayed in the community and worked hard to improve the
environment. Thus, Davis was perfectly suited to capture the action on
the streets in a manner that played authentically on screen. Similarly,
he had a real feel for the local population. As with any major urban
area, Harlem undoubtedly had its share of amusing eccentrics and Davis
populates the movie with plenty of such characters.
The film opens with a major rally held by Rev. Deke O'Malley (Calvin
Lockhart), a local guy who made good and who is idolized by the
population of Harlem. O'Malley is a smooth-talking, charismatic con man
in the mode of the notorious Reverend Ike who uses religion as a facade
to rip off gullible followers. This time, O'Malley has launched a "Back
to Africa" campaign for which he is soliciting funds. It's based on the
absurd premise that he will be able to finance disgruntled Harlem
residents back to the land of their ancestry. The hard-working,
semi-impoverished locals end up donating $87,000 in cash but the rally
is interrupted by a daring daytime robbery. An armored car filled with
masked men armed with heavy weaponry descend upon the goings-on, loot
the cash box and take off. They are pursued by two street-wise local
cops, "Grave Digger" Jones (Godfrey Cambridge) and his partner "Coffin"
Ed Johnson (Raymond St. Jacques). Davis provides an exciting and
colorful car chase through the streets of Harlem, as the cops fail to
snag the robbers. They also discover that O'Malley has gone missing,
leading them to believe that he orchestrated the heist himself so he
could keep the proceeds raised at the rally. The plot becomes rather
convoluted, as Jones and Johnson learn that a bale of cotton has arrived
in Harlem and its somehow connected to the crime. They assume that the
stolen money has been stashed in said cotton bale, which quickly changes
hands among the most unsavory characters in the community. Getting in
on the action is a white mob boss and his goons who are also trying to
recover the cotton bale. The cotton itself is resented in Harlem because
of its historical links to slavery and by the end of the film, the bale
ends up in a stage show at the famed Apollo Theater where it is used as
a prop in a bizarre production that involves historical observations
about the black experience intermingled with a striptease act! Through
it all, Jones and Johnson doggedly chase any number of people through
the streets, engage in shoot-outs and car chases and come in and out of
contact with Rev. O'Malley, who professes his innocence about being
involved in the robbery. The Rev isn't so innocent when it comes to
other unscrupulous activities such as chronically cheating on his
long-suffering girlfriend Iris (Judy Pace) and manipulating other women
in a variety of ways.
The most delightful aspect of the film is the showcasing of some very
diverse talents of the era. Godfrey Cambridge (who made it big as a
stand-up comic) and Raymond St. Jacques enjoy considerable on-screen
chemistry even if the script deprives them of the kind of witty dialogue
that would have enhanced their scenes together. They make wisecracks
all the time and harass some less-than-savory characters but the
screenplay never truly capitalizes on Cambridge's comedic potential. The
film's most impressive performance comes from Calvin Lockhart, who
perfectly captures the traits of phony, larger-than-life "preachers".
He's all flashy good looks, gaudy outfits and narcissistic
behavior. Lockhart seems
to be having a ball playing this character and the screen ignites every
time he appears. There are some nice turns by other good character
actors including pre-"Sanford and Son" Redd Foxx, who figures in the
film's amusing "sting-in-the-tail" ending, John Anderson as the
exasperated white captain of a Harlem police station that is constantly
on the verge of being besieged by local activists, Lou Jacobi as a junk
dealer, Cleavon Little as a local eccentric, J.D. Canon as a mob hit man
and Dick Sabol as a goofy white cop who suffers humiliation from
virtually everyone (which is sort of a payback for the decades in which
black characters were routinely used as comic foils). The film has a
surprisingly contemporary feel about it, save for a few garish fashions
from the 1970s. It's also rather nostalgic to hear genuine soul music
peppered through the soundtrack in this pre-rap era. Happily, life has
not imitated art in the years since the film was released. Harlem has
been undergoing the kind of Renaissance that would have seemed
unimaginable in 1970. The old glory has come back strong and the center
of the neighorhood, 125th Street, is vibrant and thriving once again.
These societal perspectives make watching "Cotton Comes to Harlem"
enjoyable on an entirely different level than simply an amusing crime
comedy.
(The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)
Six-time, undefeated world karate champion
Chuck Norris made his film debut in 1972’s Way
of the Dragon; a marvelous movie in which Norris played a villainous
character who battled the immortal Bruce Lee in a scene that is now considered
to be one ofthe greatest cinematic
fights of all time. In 1974, Norris did another villainous turn in the low-budget
martial arts film Slaughter in San
Francisco by portraying a powerful drug lord. He would then go on to
headline 1977’s Breaker! Breaker!
wherein he played the hero for the first time. When the higher budgeted and
more ambitious Good Guys Wear Black
was released the following year, it scored big and suddenly everyone took
notice of this rising new talent.
Vietnam vet John T. Booker (Norris) is now a
political science professor at UCLA who gets wind of the fact that someone very
powerful is killing off the remaining members of his old Special Forces team,
the Black Tigers. With the help of a young reporter named Margaret (Anne
Archer), Booker attempts to find out who’s responsible for the slaughter while
simultaneously trying to stay alive.
Very well-directed by Ted Post, Good Guys Wear Black was written by
Bruce Cohn and Mark Medoff (from a story by Joseph Fraley),and released by
American Cinema Releasing on June 2, 1978. The entertaining action film, which Norris
considers his breakthrough movie, is a post-Watergate/ post-Vietnam story, but,
in some spots, also feels very much like a James Bond film.
Much has been said about Norris’s performance
in this film. Norris himself doesn’t love his acting in this one. After Good Guys was released, Steve McQueen,
who was one of Norris’s karate students at the time, told the rising star that
it would be better if, from now on, he let some of the character actors handle
the heavy exposition while, much like Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson, Chuck
only uttered the most important lines. Great advice, but still, I don’t think Norris’s
performance in this film is nearly as bad as everyone has said and he has nothing
to be ashamed of. If you watch his movies in order of release, you will see an
actor who worked hard on his craft and improved with each film.
To help support Norris in this early film
effort, the filmmakers cast Good Guys
Wear Black with an amazing array of acting talent the likes of Anne Archer,
James Franciscus, Lloyd Haynes, Dana Andrews, Jim Backus, Lawrence P. Casey and
Soon-Tek Oh (who would later appear in two more Chuck Norris films). The film
also features 9th degree black belt Pat E. Johnson, the first screen
appearance of Chuck’s brother (and fight choreographer) Aaron Norris, and a
cool musical score by composer Craig Safan.
Good Guys Wear Black has been released on
Blu-ray in anamorphic (1.85:1) widescreen from a brand new 2K transfer. The Region
1 disc also contains an interesting audio commentary by action film historians Mike
Leeder and Arne Venema, the featurette “The Making of Good Guys Wear Black”, an interview with director Ted Post, the
original theatrical trailer, reversible sleeve artwork, TV spot and several radio spots. There are also
trailers for five other Chuck Norris films as well as the trailer for Narrow Margin which stars Anne Archer.
Australia-based ViaVision's Imprint video line is taking pre-orders for a limited edition (1500) Blu-ray release of "The Avengers: The Emma Peel Collection".The set will be released on 30 November.
This set is Region-Free, which is good news for fans worldwide.
Here is the relevant information:
Number of Blu-ray
Discs
16
Rating
PG
Release Date
30
November 2022
Runtime (in
minutes)
2255
Product Code
IMP3065
Mrs.
Peel… We’re needed!
Extraordinary
crimes against the people and the state have to be avenged by agents
extraordinary. Two such people are John Steed, top professional, and his
partner, Emma Peel, talented amateur. Otherwise known as The Avengers.
With lethal bowler hat and umbrella, killer fashion and kung fu, the secret
agents investigate bizarre and colourful adventures with nonchalant efficiency,
sophistication and charm.
Whilst
every era of the long-running, enduringly popular and trend-setting British
series has its own unique style, charm and wit, it is the Emma Peel years that
have become the programme’s most iconic and recognisable, with Diana Rigg’s
portrayal of Mrs. Emma Peel ushering in a new era of excitement, fashion and
iconology, coupled with Patrick Macnee’s continuing depiction of the urbane and
sublime John Steed.
Now,
this 16-disc Blu Ray set brings together every episode from the Emma Peel era
in stunning high-definition encompassing the complete Series 4 and 5, plus a
copious collection of vintage and new Special Features celebrating this peak
era of The Avengers.
Special
Features and Technical Specs:
1080p
high-definition presentation from the original 35mm elements
Collectable
double-sided Hardbox packaging LIMITED to 1500 copies
120-page booklet
featuring essay by Dick Fiddy of the British Film Institute and Story
Information for every episode taken from the original studio files
Original ‘as
broadcast’ mono audio tracks (LPCM)
Original ‘as
broadcast’ “The Avengers in Color” opening slate on Series 5 episodes
Audio Commentary
on “The Town of No Return” by producer / writer Brian Clemens and director
Roy Ward Baker
Audio Commentary
on “The Master Minds” by writer Robert Banks Stewart
Audio Commentary
on “Dial A Deadly Number” by writer Roger Marshall
Audio Commentary
on “The Hour That Never Was” by director Gerry O’Hara
Audio Commentary
on “The House That Jack Built” by director Don Leaver
Audio Commentary
on “The Winged Avenger” by writer Richard Harris
Audio Commentary
on “Epic” by guest actor Peter Wyngarde
NEW Audio
Commentary on “The Joker” by filmmakers Sam Clemens and George Clemens
(sons of writer/producer Brian Clemens) (2022)
Audio Commentary
on “Return of The Cybernauts” by Diana Rigg’s stunt-double Cyd Child
Audio Commentary
on “Murdersville” by producer / writer Brian Clemens
Filmed
introductions to eight Series 5 episodes by producer / writer Brian
Clemens
Filmed
introduction to “The ?50,000 Breakfast” by guest actress Anneke Wills
Brief audio
recollection from guest actor Francis Matthews on filming “The Thirteenth
Hole”
“THE AVENGERS
AT 50” – Footage captured from the 50th anniversary celebration
of the series, held at Chichester University in 2011. Includes: video
message from Patrick Macnee, interviews with producer / writer Brian
Clemens, director Don Leaver (never before released), director Gerry
O’Hara (never before released), stunt co-ordinator Raymond Austin, guest
actress Carol Cleveland, guest actress Anneke Wills, writer Roger
Marshall, and Patrick Macnee’s biographer Marie Cameron
“Dame Diana Rigg
at the BFI” – 2015 on-stage interview and Q&A held at the British Film
Institute in London to celebrate 50 years of Emma Peel
“The Series Of
No Return” – audio interview with actress Elizabeth Shepherd, who was
originally cast as Emma Peel
Granada Plus
Points featuring actor Patrick Macnee, composer Laurie Johnson, writer
Roger Marshall and stunt-double Cyd Child
Bonus Series 6
episode “The Forget-Me-Knot” – Emma Peel’s final story and the
introduction of Tara King
“K Is For Kill”
– excerpt from The New Avengers episode featuring appearances by
Emma Peel
ARCHIVAL
MATERIAL
Armchair Theatre episode “The
Hothouse” starring Diana Rigg (the performance that led to Rigg’s casting
as Emma Peel in The Avengers
Chessboard
Opening Title sequence used on US broadcasts for Series 4
German and
French title sequences
Series 4 UK
Commercial Break Bumper slates
Alternative
titles / credits / end tag of select Series 4 episodes
Series 4
Commercial Break Bumpers
Production trims
from select Series 5 episodes
“The Strange
Case Of The Missing Corpse” – Series 5 teaser film
German
television interview with Patrick Macnee and Diana Rigg by Joachim
Fuchsberger
Colourisation
test footage for “Death At Bargain Prices” and “A Touch Of Brimstone”
Reconstructed
John Stamp Series 4 trailer
“They’re Back”
Trailers, Series 5 Trailer and Series 5 German Cinema Trailer
Extensive Photo
Galleries from the studio archives
1973 Interview
with Diana Rigg discussing her US sitcom Diana, and leaving The
Avengers
Original Aspect
Ratio 1.33:1, b&w / colour
Audio English
LPCM 2.0 Mono
English
subtitles for the Hard of Hearing (Series 4 & 5 episodes only)
BONUS
DISC 1: ADDITIONAL SPECIAL FEATURES
More interviews
from “THE AVENGERS AT 50” including composer Laurie Johnson, writer
and guest actor Jeremy Burnham, stunt-double Cyd Child, and a
screenwriters’ panel discussion featuring Brian Clemens, Richard Harris,
Richard Bates and Terrance Dicks
“Brian Clemens
In Conversation” – on-stage interview at the British Film Institute in
London discussing his early writing career
Extensive Photo
Gallery from The Avengers Fashion Show
Diana Rigg Photo
Gallery
BONUS
DISC 2: THE ORIGINAL EPISODES FILE
Featuring the 4
original episodes from the Cathy Gale era of the series which were remade
in Series 5: “Death Of A Great Dane”, “Don’t Look Behind You”, “Dressed To
Kill” and “The Charmers” (Standard Definition)
Audio Commentary
by writer Roger Marshall on “Death Of A Great Dane”
Audio Commentary
by actress Honor Blackman and UK presenter Paul O’Grady on “Don’t Look
Behind You”
Filmed
introduction by Patrick Macnee and Honor Blackman to “Don’t Look Behind
You”
“Tunnel Of Fear”
– a full-length, previously lost episode from Series 1, recovered in 2016
“THE AVENGERS
AT 50” – interview with Honor Blackman by Paul O’Grady
After the release of 1982’s excellent
action/drama First Blood which
featured the debut appearance of Vietnam vet (and soon-to-be action movie icon)
John Rambo (brilliantly played by Sylvester Stallone), a slew of action films
featuring war veterans as their heroes soon flooded movies theaters of 1980s
America. Along with many others, entertaining films like Missing in Action (1984), Commando
and Stand Alone (both 1985)—which
starred Chuck Norris, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Charles Durning, respectively,
as war vets who faced almost insurmountable odds, yet still saved the day—satisfied
action-starved audiences around the country. Throughout the decade, Norris returned
with two Missing in Action sequels
and so did Stallone with Rambo: First
Blood Part II (1985) and Rambo III (1988).
Although these films (with the exception of the underrated Stand Alone) are probably the most remembered of the 1980s war
vet/action film genre, Steele Justice;
a somewhat forgotten, but very enjoyable war vet/action movie,was released in 1987.
While living in California, Vietnam vet and
former cop John Steele (Martin Kove, The
Karate Kid 1, 2 & 3, Rambo: First Blood Part II), who hasn’t been able
to hold down a job since the war ended, witnesses Lee (Robert Kim, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off), his best
friend and fellow vet turned cop, being gunned down by the Vietnamese mafia.
Steele soon learns that this mafia is run by Bon Soong Kwan (Soon-Tek Oh, Missing in Action 2,Death Wish 4), a former Vietnam General
who Steele and Lee tangled with during the war. Steele now wants nothing more
than to bring Kwan to justice, but with resistance from Chief of Police Bennett
(Ronny Cox, Deliverance, 1990’s Total Recall) and not one shred of
proof, the evil Kwan is untouchable. To make matters worse, Kwan has put out a
hit on Steele’s niece, Cami (Jan Gan Boyd, Assassination),
and framed the dead Lee, making it look like he was a crooked cop. Feeling that
the war has moved from Vietnam to the States, one-man-killing-machine John
Steele loads up his deadly arsenal and, with the help of his ex-wife Tracy
(Sela Ward, TV’s Sisters, 1993’s The Fugitive) and good cop Reese (Bernie
Casey, Never Say Never Again, I’m Gonna
Git You Sucka) sets out to take Kwan down.
Written and directed by Robert Boris, who wrote
the script for Electra Glide in Blue,
Steele Justice may not be in the same
league as the films of Stallone, Norris and Schwarzenegger, but if you’re a fan
of movies of that type (and 1980s action cinema in general), the somewhat
predictable, but still mostly fun Steele
Justice won’t disappoint. Boris’s direction is solid. He competently
handles the action sequences and keeps the film moving at a fast enough pace.
He also peppers his screenplay with likeable heroes and despicable villains.
Although many of these characters as well as the situations they find
themselves in, may seem somewhat clichéd, it’s exactly what fans of 80s action
(like me) came to see; a larger-than-life, lone hero singlehandedly taking out
a gang of evil bad guys with a smile on his face. Realistic? No. Entertaining?
Yes. You pretty much know what you’re getting into just from hearing the film’s
memorable tag line: “You don’t recruit
John Steele, you unleash him.”
Over the years, I’ve heard harsh criticism of
Martin Kove’s portrayal of John Steele, but I don’t find a problem with it. Kove
is one of those actors who is always welcome in just about anything as far as
I’m concerned. Whether he is playing hero or villain, he always comes through
with his performance and makes a film that much better. He is especially good
at playing henchman and bully-type villains as well as all-American heroes like
John Steele. If I have a complaint, it’s that the usually charismatic and
humorous Kove is toned down a bit here. It’s a minor complaint, but I would
have liked to have seen a little more enjoyment in his portrayal. Besides
benefitting from a strong lead like Kove, the movie also features a wonderfully
villainous performance from the great Soon-Tek Oh, super-talented veterans
Ronny Cox and Bernie Casey convincingly playing cops, and the lovely Sela Ward
as Steele’s sometimes exasperated ex-wife.
The fun movie also features several highly recognizable
faces such as Joseph Campanella (Defiance),
Sarah Douglas (Superman II), Peter
Kwong (Big Trouble in Little China),
Al Leong (Lethal Weapon), Shannon
Tweed (No Contest) and Irene Tsu (Three the Hard Way) who all add
immensely to the film’s enjoyment.
Although the movie itself may be a bit
derivative, it’s still a well-done and entertaining action film with a solid, extremely
likeable cast. If you’re a fan of this genre, I recommend checking it out.
Steele Justice has been released on
Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect
ratio and, as is usually the case with KL, the HD transfer is terrific. The
disc also contains a very informative audio commentary by Martin Kove, Robert
Boris and moderator Alex Van Dyne (Eddie
Brandt’s Saturday Matinee). It’s fun to listen to them reminisce about the
film and Martin Kove talks about how he would play the role differently today.
We’re also treated to the original theatrical trailer as well as trailers for
five other exciting action films: Code of
Silence; Taffin; Murphy’s Law; The Final Option and Hard
Target.
"Kill a Dragon", a 1967 action-adventure production from United Artists, is the perfect example of kind of film I've praised many times before. Namely, it's a low-budget flick designed for a fast playoff (perhaps as the second feature on double bills) and a modest profit. Often, as in this case, they were marketed with terrific movie posters that often promised more sex and violence than the films delivered. Studios thrived on such mid-range fare which inevitably employed actors in leading roles who would generally be playing supporting parts in more prestigious productions. They still enjoyed enough respect and name recognition to market the films successfully internationally. "Kill a Dragon" is based in an around Hong Kong and stars Jack Palance as Rick Masters (now there's a cinematic name for a hero), who is an American jack-of-all-trades who enjoys a laid-back lifestyle with his mistress, nightclub "hostess", Alizia Gur (who memorably squared off against Martine Beswick in the gypsy catfight in "From Russia with Love".) In the umpteenth Hollywood attempt to crib from the scripts of "Seven Samurai"/"The Magnificent Seven", Masters, who specializes in maritime salvage operations, is approached by peasants from an impoverished village. They inform him that recently a ship was grounded on their island and the crew deserted it because of its cargo: a gigantic load of highly volatile nitroglycerine. The peasants offer Masters a 50/50 split of the profits if he can smuggle the goods into Hong Kong and sell it on the black market. There is a catch, however. The nitro shipment is the property of Nico Patrai (Fernando Lamas), a local crime kingpin who warns the peasants to turn over the goods or have their village destroyed. Masters accepts the assignment and contacts his frequent collaborators: Vigo (Aldo Ray), who is now relegated to hosting bus excursions for tourists, Jimmy (Hans Lee), a local aspiring boxer and martial arts expert and his British manager, Ian (Don Knight). They are outnumbered and outgunned so they must use their instincts to outwit Patrai.
"Kill a Dragon" is the kind of goofy action flick that never takes itself very seriously. It opens with what is possibly the worst title song in the history of film and presents Latin heartthrob Fernando Lamas as a Hong Kong crime lord without a word of explanation as to how he managed to arrange this. The film is laden with Bond-style quips and the fight scenes are pretty limp under the direction of Michael Moore. (Obviously, not that Michael Moore.) But there is a great deal of fun to be found in the film. The Hong Kong locations adds an exotic element and cinematographer Emmanuel L. Rojas makes the most of it, capturing the hustle and bustle of the city center and the serenity of the surrounding areas very effectively. Palance gives a low-key performance (for him, at least) and minimizes his tendencies to ham it up. Lamas is a villain in the Bondian style and its a pleasure to see him and Palance in the requisite scenes in which they banter with witticisms and civility even though they have marked each other for death. An unusual and pleasurable aspect of the movie is that all of the Asian characters are played by Asian actors, a rarity in 1967 and they are presented in a dignified manner.
I don't want to overstate the merits of "Kill a Dragon", as it's the epitome of a "B" movie and nothing more. However, if one approaches it with those expectations, you may well find it as enjoyable as I did.
Kino Lorber has released the film on Blu-ray, a significant upgrade to MGM's previous burn-to-order DVD. Quality is very good and the original trailer is included along with a gallery of other action films from KL.
If cinema made us
believe anything back in the mid-twentieth century, it was that those Europeans
were getting far more sex than the rest of us. From Brigitte Bardot to Sophia
Loren, from I – a Woman to I am Curious, films from Europe were
somehow more adult, more daring and sexier. There was an “Ooh La La!” factor when
it came to European cinema, and audiences did not always differentiate between
a challenging black and white French New Wave film or a ‘commedia sexy
all'italiana’. If it came from the continent there was an assumption that you
would get to see far more than in British or Hollywood films. Post-war it was primarily
French and Italian films that dominated this market, but gradually Sweden took
the crown and Stockholm became the sexy film capital of Europe. Whereas the
sophisticated French and Italian women all wore heavy makeup and expensive
lingerie and looked glamorous and unattainable, Swedish girls seemed to be
fresher, down-to-earth and more natural. There was something of the girl next
door about them, perhaps becoming a more realistic prospect for the average man
in the audience.
Although Rickard
Gramfors is keen to point out in this excellent new collection of film posters
that Swedish cinema was not all with angst and existential anxiety, Ingmar
Bergman’s Summer With Monika in 1953 was one of the first to make the
rest of the world aware of this sexy northern European nation. This is perhaps
because it was distributed in America under the title Monika – the Story of
a Bad Girl. Swedish films increased in popularity throughout the fifties
and sixties, although it was a change in censorship law in 1971 that finally
saw Sweden become one of Europe’s most prolific hardcore pornography production
centres. The country became so synonymous
with sex that the word ‘Sweden’ would often be inserted into film titles from
other countries to spice them up, from Bob Hope’s I’ll Take Sweden to
the Italian mondo documentary Sweden Heaven and Hell (now best
remembered for the origin of the ‘Mah-na-Mah-na’ song later used in The
Muppets). This book features many such examples.
Do
You Believe in Swedish Sin? also demonstrates that it
was not all just sex: Sweden’s growing film industry also produced action
films, westerns (known as Lingonberry westerns!), horror, sword-and-sandal,
comedies and even the occasional ninja epic.
As has been remarked
upon before in Cinema Retro, the art of the film poster is not what it
used to be, and this fabulous collection from the archives of Klubb Super 8, a Swedish
vintage distribution company, shows us many great examples of just how good poster
art was. As well as Swedish posters there are also examples from around the
world, from fantastic hand-painted Italian locanda that manage to make
everything look like a gothic masterpiece to eye-catching posters from the
grindhouses of 42nd Street. This is a book that will have you seeking
out many of the fabulous-looking films covered. Fortunately for you, Klubb Super
8 have recently established a new streaming service called Cultpix, where
indeed many of these films can now be viewed at the click of a mouse, from
classics like Anita - Swedish Nymphet to sex education films such as The
Language of Love. Cultpix also has cult films from all over the world in a
range of genres, and it is growing all the time. It is a must-have subscription
for anyone looking for something a bit different from the safer options on
Netflix or Disney +.
With hundreds of
posters and written commentary in English, Do You Believe in Swedish Sin?
is an eclectic and engrossing poster collection for any serious movie buff. This
glossy hardback book will add a touch of colour and Scandinavian glamour to any
top shelf.
Although Robert Clouse will always be
remembered for directing the immortal Bruce Lee’s 1973 martial arts classic Enter the Dragon, the talented
filmmaker has quite a few more interesting movies in his filmography. Just
hearing about a small portion of the man’s work is enough to impress any film
buff. For instance, in 1970, Clouse directed the very well-done detective
mystery Darker than Amber. He also
helmed the 1974 cult classic action flick
Black Belt Jones (starring martial arts champion Jim Kelly). In 1978,
Clouse completed Bruce Lee’s fifth and final film (which was never finished due
to Lee’s unfortunate death) by writing and directing Game of Death. He then directed the great Jackie Chan in the
enjoyable 1980 actioner The Big Brawl;
a movie he also penned. While taking a break from action, Clouse took a few
stabs at the horror genre by first directing the enjoyable 1977 movie The Pack (starring the great Joe Don
Baker) as well as the fun, rats-on-the-loose feature Deadly Eyes (1982). He has also directed action film icons Cynthia
Rothrock and Bolo Yeung, and wrote the films Something Evil and Happy
Mother’s Day, Love George which went on to be directed by Steven Spielberg
and Darren McGavin, respectively.If
all this info has gotten you interested in Robert Clouse, then you’ll be happy
to hear that Golden Needles, a film
Clouse directed in 1974, was recently released on Blu-ray.
In Golden
Needles, the race is on asseven
people frantically search for a priceless Chinese statue which contains seven
needles that are guaranteed to grant the owner perfect health and vitality.
Filmed on location in Hong Kong, Golden Needles was distributed by
American International Pictures and released on July 17, 1974. Although the
movie is filled with plenty of action and adventure, it’s a tad more
lighthearted than, say, Enter the Dragon.
This entertaining film benefits from an engaging story, Clouse’s solid
direction, the Hong Kong locations, another funky ‘70s score from the legendary
Lalo Schifrin, and fun performances from the very talented cast. Besides Joe
Don Baker and Elizabeth Ashley, who are both very likeable and seem to have
some nice onscreen chemistry, we are also treated to humorous turns from Ann
Sothern and Burgess Meredith. Super cool Jim Kelly shows up and, as always,
it’s a joy to watch him kick ass. Last, but not least, as a cold-hearted
villain, Roy Chiao (best known as Lao Che from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) is appropriately
intimidating. If you’re looking for a light, enjoyable adventure, this film
really hits the spot.
Golden Needles has been released on
Blu-ray by Kino Lorber in a widescreen (2.35:1) transfer from a brand new 2K
master, and the movie looks and sounds fantastic. The Region 1 disc also
contains the original theatrical trailer, TV spot, radio spots, an image
gallery, newly commissioned art by Vince Evans, reversible sleeve artwork and an informative audio
commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger and Chris Poggiali. Rounding out
the special features are seven terrific action movie trailers: Mr. Majestyk; Newman’s Law; Brannigan; Thunderbolt and Lightfoot; Truck Turner; The Laughing Policeman and
Revenge of the Ninja.
There are two fleeting
moments in Love Story, based on author Eric Siegel’s bestselling novel
that became a publishing phenomenon,where the major social and
political issue of the day – the war in Vietnam – intrudes into a film
notorious for deflecting or displacing larger concerns of the day into
seemingly private questions of love and family. Of course, it was a common
assertion in the Sixties and Seventies that the “personal is the
political,” and Love Story could well be said to be politically
“relevant” (to use another catchphrase of the times) around questions of class
and generation as they play out in two families. But it’s certainly the case
that one would be hard-pressed in the many scenes set outdoors on college
campuses (Harvard and Radcliffe) to see any signs of antiwar protest or
leafletting or whatever: instead, outside provides a site for a couple to
frolic in the snow or toss a football back and forth in an empty stadium that
thereby becomes their own private playground.
All the more surprising,
then, that the first allusion, to militarism, comes in a very privatized inner
sanctum, a members’-only club where Oliver Barrett IV (Ryan O’Neal) comes to
spar verbally with his millionaire snob father (Ray Milland) over young Oliver’s
desire to marry a girl from across the tracks, Jenny Cavilleri (Ali MacGraw).
As they begin their conversation, Barrett Senior asks his son about what a
classmate will be doing after graduation and learns the kid is joining Army
Officer’s Training. Good, says the imperious father, to which his son replies
“Bad.” One shouldn’t perhaps make too much of this but it is a moment that
raises the question of the good or bad of fighting for one’s country,
especially when it can be so deadly. Later, in another indoors scene, young
Barrett, now a budding lawyer, tells a pal at their gym, that he's turned down
a request by his law firm to go defend a journalist beaten up by cops “in
Chicago” (he doesn’t tell his friend that he needs to stay home with Jenny,
who’s got a fatal illness). Again, the moment passes quickly but it was likely
impossible for most viewers in 1970 not to understand the reference as code for
police brutality against protestors and their journalistic advocates.
The critics generally hated Love
Story for what they imagined as its refusal to address the times. Fans
loved it, often, for that very refusal: it allowed them to cry about something
other than the real death and dying (both overseas and in the streets of the
cities back home). But even though the American Film Institute lists it as number
9 amongst all romances, we should note that this film is ultimately, like what
one could read in the papers or see in many other movies, about life abruptly
cut short.. Maybe it’s not brutal death, à la other films of the moment like,
say, The Wild Bunch or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but just
as these films are saying something about the violence of the times even as
they look to other times for their specific subject matter, Love Story is
marked by a fatalism that actually could be saying something resonant about
fragility of live in that historical moment. Love Story perhaps is due
for critical reconsideration, and Paramount’s careful remastering of the film
in striking Blu-ray might well help in that project.
The careful digitalization
allows the viewer to focus on visual accomplishment as much as the saccharine
story. For example, there are some impressive long-takes often with a complex
choreography between character and camera. Most noteworthy is the Blu-ray’s
careful capture of the color design for the film: a washed out look for scenes
of Cambridge and New York in winter matched to oppressive dark but
oh-so-masculine colors (browns and blacks) in the interior scenes of Oliver’s
confrontations with his father, both leavened by touches of red, from a single
lamp in the brown wood of Barrett Senior’s imperial home office to the scarlet
dresses or miniskirts that Jenny sports and that bring vitality into a story of
staid convention and oppressive rule-boundedness across class and generational
lines.
The Blu-ray combines several
new special features with ones that were available earlier in DVD editions. New
are a short discussion of the film by critic Leonard Maltin and a very brief
introduction by Ben Mankiewicz to an airing of the film on TCM. Both tend to
repeat commonplaces about the film -- sometimes the same ones, such as that the
film resonated with audiences who needed sweet emotion in a complicated
historical moment – and both go over well-known production facts, such as that
Ali MacGraw was in large part cast because she was Paramount boss Robert
Evans’s girlfriend at the time.
Carried over from the DVD are
a 14-minute documentary “Love Story: A Classic Remembered,” which goes
over much of the same ground as Maltin and Mankiewicz, and a commentary track
by director Arthur Hiller. Hiller’s narration is curious, caught between light
anecdotes (for example, Ray Milland agreeing to not wear his beloved toupee for
this film) and some sparse but useful technical discussion (for example, how
some of those impressive meandering long takes were engineered) and, fairly
unbearably, fatuous thematic commentary about how Hiller wants to make films
that say something (in this case, something about the triumph of human spirit).
Nonetheless, whatever one
thinks of it, Love Story at the very beginning of the 1970s is a key
film in American cinema history, and it is so important to have this carefully
crafted Blu-ray to commemorate it.
John Sturges’ “Last Train from Gun Hill” was released in 1959 as one ofseveral
high-profile Westerns of its era, designed to lure audiences away from
their television sets and back to their neighborhood movie theatres.Against
TV’s advantage of free programming that you could enjoy from the
leisure of your easy chair, films like “Last Train from Gun Hill,”
“Warlock,” “The Horse Soldiers,” and “The Hanging Tree” countered with
A-list stars, widescreen CinemaScope and VistaVision, Technicolor, and
sweeping outdoor locations.The
studios wagered, correctly, that viewers would welcome a change from
the predictable characters, cheap backlot sets, and drab black-and-white
photography of “Gunsmoke,” “Wagon Train,” and “Cheyenne.”The
approach was successful, sporadically continuing through the next
decade with expensive epics like “How the West Was Won” (1962), “Custer
of the West” (1967), and “MacKenna’s Gold” (1968) before it collapsed
from dwindling returns, scaled-back studio budgets, and changing popular
tastes at the end of the 1960s.
As Sturges’ movie opens, two loutish cowboys chase down, rape, and murder a young Indian woman.Although the rape and murder occur offscreen, the lead-up is viscerally terrifying.In a bizarrely poor choice of words, Bosley Crowther’s review in the New York Times referred to the murderers as “scallywags.” At least in my lexicon, scallywags aremischievous kids who make prank phone calls, not perpetrators of a horrendous sexual assault.When the pair flee in panic after realizing what they’ve done, they inadvertently leave behind a horse and saddle.The
murdered woman’s husband is Matt Morgan (Kirk Douglas), the marshal of
the nearby town of Pawley, who immediately identifies the letters “CB”
branded on the saddle.They’re
the initials of Craig Belden (Anthony Quinn), a powerful rancher who
controls Gun Hill, a community further down the railroad line.One
of the murderers was Belden’s hired hand Lee (played by Brian Hutton,
later the director of “Where Eagles Dare” and “Kelly’s Heroes”), and the
other was Belden’s son Rick (Earl Holliman).When
Morgan arrives in Gun Hill with arrest warrants, Belden first tries to
convince him to go easy by reminding him that he and Craig were once
good friends. After that doesn’t work, he resorts to intimidation.The
cowardly local marshal refuses to help Morgan, unashamedly admitting
that he fears the boss man’s wrath more than he respects the rule of
law.(I’ll leave it to you to decide if you see a similarity to recent political controversies.)The
other townspeople are chilly if not hostile, and when Morgan finally
subdues Rick and handcuffs him in a hotel room, waiting for the arrival
of the train back to Pawley, Belden surrounds the building with hisarmy of hired guns.
The only person sympathetic to Morgan is Belden’s battered girlfriend Linda (Carolyn Jones).Even she believes the determined marshal faces overwhelming odds:
“You remind me of Jimmy, a fella I used to know,” she remarks. “Stubborn as a mule.”
“Next time you see Jimmy, say hello,” Morgan answers dryly.“We seem to have a lot in common.”
“More than you know.He’s dead.”
“Last
Train from Gun Hill” originated with a story treatment by writer Les
Crutchfield, expanded by James W. Poe with an uncredited assist from
Dalton Trumbo, whom Douglas brought in to sharpen the dialogue.The exchanges between the characters, like the one quoted above, crackle with Trumbo’s signature style.Crutchfield
contributed scripts regularly to “Gunsmoke,” and “Last Train from Gun
Hill” unfolds like a traditional episode of the long-running series,
dressed up with a little more complexity, a rape-murder that would never
have passed network censorship, and a striking climactic scene that
also would have run afoul of the censors.Standing up, Morgan drives a wagon slowly down main street to meet the arriving train.Rick
stands beside him, handcuffed, with the muzzle of Morgan’s borrowed
shotgun pressed up under his chin to keep Belden and his gunmen at bay. When
Dell Comics adapted the movie as a comic book at the time of the film’s
release, it chose that scene as the cover photograph.As
far as I know, the graphic come-on of imminent shotgun mayhem didn’t
raise the ire of parents, educators, child psychologists, or media
pundits in that distant year of 1959.Back then, of course, pervasive gun violence wasn’t the social catastrophe that it is today.In 2022, the comic book would surely raise a firestorm of controversy on social media and cable news.
“Last
Train from Gun Hill” falls just short of a true classic, since the plot
mostly relies on ingredients that we’ve seen many times before in other
Westerns—the incorruptible lawman, the overbearing cattle baron, his
bullying but weak-willed son, the old friends now at cross-purposes, the
unfriendly town, the tense wait for a train—but Douglas, Quinn, and
supporting actors Carolyn Jones, Earl Holliman, Brian Hutton, and Brad
Dexter are at the top of their form, and Sturges’ no-nonsense direction
keeps the action moving at a tense pace.The
Blu-ray edition of the film from Paramount Pictures’ specialty label,
“Paramount Presents,” contains a sharp, remastered transfer, an
appreciative video feature with Leonard Maltin, and theatrical trailers.Even
though “Last Train from Gun Hill” ran frequently on local TV channels
in the 1970s and ‘80s, its visual quality there was seriously
compromised by the broadcast format.Worse, endless commercial breaks disrupted Sturges’ masterful mood of mounting tension.Revisiting
the production in its original, intended form, we may better appreciate
its merits as classic Hollywood professionalism at its finest.Highly recommended.
Film historians like to
connect Jack Arnold’s Man in the Shadow (1957) to Orson Welles’s Touch
of Evil from the same year, produced both at Universal-International by
Albert Zugsmith. Each revolves around a murder somewhere in the South or Southwest
that ensues when a rich and prejudiced gringo capitalist tries to prevent a
romance between his daughter and a Mexican man. Each involves an intrepid squared-jawed
he-man law enforcement figure investigating that murder and fightin the
obstructions of a racist megalomaniac played in both cases by Welles.
But the differences are instructive.
For instance, in Touch of Evil, the Welles figure is, like the hero, a
lawman, but in this case corrupt yet often getting the job done even as he
bends the law to do so. In Man in the Shadow, in contrast, Welles’s character
Renchler is an imperious cattleman (Virgil Renchler) whose ranch was the site
of a killing he oversaw. He’s unremittingly corrupt from beginning to end. Touch
of Evil then is about moral ambiguity – Welles’s Hank Quinlan is good cop
and bad cop rolled up into one. Man in the Shadow is more certain of its
morality: if, at the film’s beginning, Sherriff Ben Sadler (Jeff Chandler) has
a somewhat jaded attitude to his job (he clearly couldn’t care a whit about the
presumed killing of a Mexican bracero), he nonetheless pushes on in his inquiry
and stands finally for ethical uprightness against the unambiguous immorality
of Renchler. If Jeff Chandler once played Native Americans (Cochise in three
films), thus crossing or confusing racial and ethnic lines, here he is the
all-American, initially disdainful of the lowly Mexican workers but coming
ultimately to defend their rights against fascistic Anglo over-reachers.
Conversely, in Touch of Evil, the good cop, played by sculpted macho man
Charlton Heston, is himself Mexican, a casting decision that has never made
sense even as it adds to the weird fun of Welles’s film. And indeed Touch of
Evil is weird in so many ways – curious acting, baroque editing,
overwrought compositions, convoluted plot, and on and on.
Man in the Shadow in
contrast is a straightforward 80 minute programmer shot in a generally sober
style: after an initial act of excessive violence (the murder of the bracero in
the shadows), the film settles down to offer a taut and tight morality tale played
often in daylight (until a final battle that is dark in look but clear in moral
stance) and in long takes that, instead of meandering like the ones in Touch
of Evil often do, frequently remain implacably fixed on the action in order
to take in the verbal sparring of Sadler and everyone who wants to prevent him
from getting at the truth.
In this pared-down narrative
of one intrepid man against the world, Man in the Shadow is in a lineage
of other such films that came out the complex context of the 1950s. For
instance, Sadler’s casting off of his badge when virtually no one in the town
comes to his defense seems inspired by High Noon while the paranoid
atmosphere of a modern Western town where deadly realities of racial violence
are being hidden away by the villagers reminds one of John Sturges’s man-against-conspiratorial-community-nightmare,
Bad Day at Black Rock. Yet, when an Italian barber announces his
allegiance to Sherriff Sadler and explains that over in Italy, they tried to
install a dictator in the 1920s and that’s why he prefers America, we can
readily see that Man in the Shadow is going in a different direction
than the paranoid narratives of the hunted hero alone against corrupt society. The
barber is the first crack in the mindless devotion to fascistic conformity. Like,
say, the Frank Sinatra Western Johnny Concho from the year before, Man
in the Shadow ultimately shows itself devoted to the cause of liberalism as
the townsfolk convert in their convictions and come to Sadler’s defense. This
liberalism against a conspiratorial conformity takes on new relevance and
resonance in today’s fraught political context as we see the townsfolk
initially disdaining the Mexican workers as undocumented and othering them
through xenophobic stereotypes while imagining whiteness as a fundamental
decency. That the white commonfolk can evolve ideologically and overcome
prejudice might well link the progressivism of Man in the Shadow to a
key earlier film by director Jack Arnold, It Came from Outer Space,
another liberal intervention into Cold War Culture that, similarly, is all
about turning fear of the other into inter-cultural tolerance.
Filmed in CinemaScope
black-and-white (like some other programmers just around this time), Man in
the Shadow looks great on Kino Lorber’s Blu-Ray edition. The only special features
are the original trailer (which, interestingly, pinpoints Sherriff Sadler and
not Orson Welles’s seemingly respectable but fundamentally corrupt capitalist
as the “man in the shadow”) and a breathless commentary track from movie critic
Troy Howarth. To my mind, Howarth is a bit too enamored of character actors’
filmographies, enumerating at length the career and date of death for virtually
anyone from within the film’s secondary cast, but he does offer helpful
insights about the film’s genre affiliations: for example, Horwath’s perception
that violence around a seemingly alien otherness insinuating itself into arid
small towns is common to a number of Jack Arnold films enables us to see the
xenophobia at issue in both Arnold’s Westerns and science-fiction.
Long unavailable (or
available only in pan-and-scan), Man in the Shadow in Kino Lorber’s fine
Blu-Ray edition offers anew a strikingly suspenseful social-problem film that
offers a trenchant glimpse of the politics of its time.
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
BY LEE PFEIFFER
Criterion has released a dual format Blu-ray/DVD edition of director Michael Mann's 1981 crime thriller Thief starring James Caan. It's a highly impressive film on many levels, especially when one considers this was Mann's big screen feature debut. He had previously directed the acclaimed 1979 TV movie The Jericho Mile, which was set in Folsom Prison. Mann was inspired by his interaction with the world of convicts and wrote the screenplay for Thief, which is credited as being based on author Frank Hohimer's novel The Home Invaders, but he maintains virtually none of the source material ended up on screen. The story centers on Frank (James Caan), a bitter man with a troubled past. As a child he was raised in state-run homes before being sent to jail for a petty crime. Inside prison, he committed violent acts in order to defend himself but this only resulted in lengthier jail terms. By the time he has been released, he has spent half of his life behind bars.
While in jail, Frank befriended Okla (Willie Nelson), a older man and master thief who is doing a life sentence. He becomes Frank's mentor and father figure and teaches him the tools of the trade. When Frank is finally released, he becomes a master at his craft, which is pulling off seemingly impossible heists of cash and diamonds. Before long, he has become a legend in his field. As a cover, Frank runs a major used car dealership and a small bar. However, he realizes that his luck will certainly run out at some point and he is determined to retire after making a few more high end scores. He works with a small team consisting of two confederates (James Belushi, Willam LaValley) who are also pros in gaining access to seemingly impenetrable vaults. The headstrong Frank wants to also settle down and raise a family. He makes an awkward introduction to Jessie (Tuesday Weld), an equally head strong, down-on-her luck character who nevertheless becomes smitten by him and ends up marrying him. The couple face frustration, however, when their attempts to adopt a baby are thwarted by Frank's criminal record. Frank is ultimately approached by Leo (Robert Prosky), a local crime lord who entices him to stop working independently and pull off a high profile heist for a fortune in diamonds. Frank rejects the offer but eventually he relents, though he is reluctant to work with a new partner. Leo has managed to break through Frank's cynicism by showering him with praise the benefits of his influence, which include arranging for Frank and Jessie to illegally adopt the baby they want so desperately. The lure of being able to retire after this one huge score leads Frank to go against his better judgment and he agrees to work for Leo on this one big job. The diamonds are located in a vault so secure that it would seem to be better suited for Fort Knox. In order to break in, Frank and his team must use highly sophisticated drills and other equipment that would rival the top gear used by any branch of the military. On the verge of realizing his greatest score, however, things go terribly wrong on any number of levels. Frank, seeing his world crumble around him, goes on a violent rampage of destruction and self-destruction.
Thief is a highly stylized movie that moves at a rapid clip and features one of James Caan's strongest performances. The problem, however, is that the character of Frank is so obnoxious, he is difficult to relate to. Peckinpah, Scorsese and Coppola always had a knack for making disreputable characters seem appealing, but Frank is nasty, arrogant and self-centered. This is certainly realistic, given the bitter feelings he has toward society, but the viewer never warms to him in any meaningful way. He is only sympathetic because the people he deals with are so much worse. Nevertheless, Thief is a crackling good yarn that boasts some fine performances especially by Tuesday Weld and character actor Robert Prosky, who is brilliant in a scene-stealing role. Willie Nelson's screen time is very limited but he makes effective use of his two scenes. The film features superb cinematography by Donald E. Thorin, who made his debut here as Director of Cinematography. His night sequences on the rain-slicked streets of Chicago evoke visions of neon-lit nightmare. The film features an electronic score by Tangerine Dream, the band that provided the memorable music for Willliam Friedkin's Sorcerer. Strangely, their score for that films holds up well but their work in Thief comes across as a bit monotonous and dated. The film's ultra-violent conclusion is exciting but rather cliched with Frank turning into yet another pissed- off screen hero who decides to take down all of his enemies in an orgy of shootouts and destruction. (I know it sounds petty but I can never accept such sequences when they are set in urban neighborhoods in which no one ever seems to call the police even as houses explode and machine gun fire is sprayed all over the place.). The film excels, however, in the break-in sequences which are superbly directed and feature camerawork that make the crime scene look like an attraction from Disney World, with fireworks-like sparks filling the air.
The Criterion Blu-ray transfer is superb on every level. Extras, which are carried over to the DVD, include a commentary track by Michael Mann and James Caan that was recorded in 1995. There are also fresh video interviews with both men that are rather candid. (Caan, who has worked consistently through his career, modestly says "I was rather popular at one time" in reference to his work on the film. Mann says he is still debating in his mind whether he regrets using Tangerine Dream's score.) There is also an interview with Johannes Schmoelling of the band, who discusses working with Mann to create the score. An original trailer is included as is a nicely illustrated booklet with an informative essay by film critic Nick James.
Cinema of the 1970s is primarily remembered for being a bold era in which groundbreaking films were released and the emergence of titanic new talents both on screen and behind the camera. It was an era in which sex, crime and violence were often exploited to take advantage of the new freedoms in the industry. Yet, there still remained a market for family comedies. While Disney and other major studio family fare could still prove to be profitable, there was also a subculture of low-budget films of this genre that were made by independent production companies. Some of these films were never even released in big cities but they proved popular with rural audiences, thus there were an abundance of rural themes in many of them. A good example of this is the 1978 comedy "They Went That-A-Way & That-A-Way" starring Tim Conway and Chuck McCann, working from a screenplay by Conway. I've always had sentiment towards both of these comedy stars, having grown up in the 1960s watching Conway on "McHale's Navy" and McCann hosting a kid's show. Conway was a major factor in driving the success of "McHale's Navy" and in the 1970s he would be an integral part of "The Carol Burnett Show"'s popularity. His skits with straight man Harvey Korman were often hilarious as Korman would gamely try (unsuccessfully) to prevent himself from cracking up at Conway's often improvised antics. In the 1970s, Conway also found success in Disney feature films, sometimes co-starring with another TV icon, Don Knotts.
In "That-A-Way", Conway and co-directors Stuart E. McGowan and Edward J. Montagne provide a prison comedy that introduces us to small town deputies Dewey (Conway) and Wallace (McCann). Do we have to inform you that they are totally inept? Every decision they make turns into a disaster, yet they are secretly appointed by the governor to pose as inmates at a prison camp in order to find out what happened to some stolen loot that one of the prisoners has stashed away. Their mission is to win his confidence and use the information to recover the money. The scenario is ripe for big laughs, but Conway and McCann so blatantly attempt to emulate their idols, Laurel and Hardy, that it only serves to remind us that they were inimitable in their comedic brilliance. At one point, Conway resorts to dusting off his classic sketch as an inept dentist that ran on "The Carol Burnett Show". However, without a live audience and Harvey Korman as his hapless foil who can't stop laughing, the skit falls flat as a pancake. There are a few chuckles in the scenarios of the inept duo trying to cope with living among hardened criminals, among them Lenny Montana and Richard Kiel. In fact, it's quite funny to see Montana, who played the much-feared Luca Brasi in "The Godfather" as Kiel's intimidated "yes man". There are numerous other supporting players who are fun to watch: the always-marvelous Dub Taylor as the prison warden (named Warden Warden), Reni Santoni as the inept deputy who is carrying on with his sexpot wife and the ageless Hank Worden as the con with the stash of cash. Our inept heroes stumble upon the hidden loot but they soon learn that the governor has died without informing anyone he has assigned two lawmen to pose as inmates. Thus, they are facing years in prison. They decide to break out and head to the new governor's residence where he is hosting a swanky luncheon for the Japanese ambassador (!). This gives Conway the opportunity to pose as a fellow Japanese and McCann as a geisha in one of those painful comedy bits that is cringe-inducing by today's sensibilities. The film races to a finale that manages to be chaotic without being even slightly funny.
The fact that the film was credited to two directors indicates some kind of problem or tension on the set. My guess is that Edward Montagne's contributions were minimal and I put forward as evidence that he brought several Don Knotts feature films to the screen as producer and sometimes writer and director. They have all stood the test of time and remain very funny. In any event, Montagne would not direct another feature film and he passed away in 2003. I admire Tim Conway but I've found that his comedic persona has not always aged well. As a kid, I thought his bumbling Ensign Parker on "McHale's Navy" was hilarious. I still find the show amusing but it's now in spite of Conway, not because of him. Conway's character, much like the one he plays in "That-A-Way", is not just comically inept. Rather, he seems like a man-child, someone who suffers from a mental deficiency- a four year-old boy trapped in a man's body. I have the same opinion when I watch the characters played by Jerry Lewis in his early films with Dean Martin. There is nothing remotely believable about them and they seem more pathetic than funny.
It gives me no pleasure to knock an attempt to provide wholesome family entertainment such as this. Still, a comedy isn't worth much if it isn't funny, and "That-A-Way"'s few modest pleasures don't merit a recommendation. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks good and provides only some TV spots and a trailer as extras.
Have you ever seen a high school yearbook from the 1940s or 1950s?
The graduates' photos make them appear to be in their mid-twenties. They look
much older at 18 or 19 than we did in our photos. That was the first thing I
noticed when I first saw director Mike Nichols' “Carnal Knowledge”
in the 1970s and was reminded of again now, with the
new 4K restoration now being shown at the Film Forum in New York City. The film traces the relationship between
former college roommates through 25 years, from the late 40s to the early 70s.
Jack Nicholson and Art Garfunkel, as roommates at Amherst College, look a
little too old to be students there. But we're eventually lulled in to
accepting them as such by the dichotomy of their personalities and their acting
abilities.
The film opens in the dark. Literally. We hear the voices of the
two roommates discussing women and sex in the dark of their dorm room. We never
see their faces until the next scene; at a college mixer where we followed
Susan (Candice Bergen) into the dance.Sandy (Art Garfunkel) is immediately attracted to her. Jonathan (Jack Nicholson)
coaches the shy, sensitive Sandy in what to do to break the ice. Seeing this
scene today made it impossible not to recall the villainous Joker grin on
Nicholson's face we would come to know well. Which works very well for the
character of Jonathan, the tough, aggressive misogynist who ends up cuckolding
his best friend and roommate.
When the film opened back in 1971 America was going through
societal changes. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and the youth of the
country were protesting. They were also embracing the sexual freedom boom. In
1969 "I Am Curious (yellow)," a Swedish erotic drama that opened
there in 1967,
made it to American shores. Nudity appeared on the Broadway stage
with "Hair" in 1968 and "Oh! Calcutta!" in 1969. Societal
mores were changing. The Sexual Revolution was in full attack mode with women
wearing miniskirts, see through shirts and hot pants. Woodstock. Flower Power.
Psychedelics. Hippies. "Foreign" films (read: obscenity to many) were
being banned in a number of states. The Generation Gap was being covered in
newspapers and news magazines. In the face of it all, never missing a beat, the
entertainment industry began to embrace counter-culture in way they never had before.
The cultural bandwagon that spawned the summer of love spread from Haight-Ashbury
to Greenwich Village, possibly in VW vans trailing
"aromatic" smoke clouds in their wake.
Jules Pfeiffer originally saw this as a play, but upon showing it
to friend Mike Nichols, was convinced it would be better made as a film. And as
a film it has grown better with age. Specifically, this reviewer's age.
Dialogue that went over my head, or that I had found both puerile and stuffy,
resonated clearer while they were dancing in my older brain. This film has a
lot to say about life and the relationships we allow ourselves to suffer
through.
Back to the film:
Sandy scores a date with Susan and the two shy virgins begin a
relationship. All the stupid, testosterone- fueled braggadocio that
rears its head in most adolescent (and collegiate) males arises like the mist
that surrounds the roommates as they walk to their dorm while Jonathan pumps
Sandy for information about his latest date with Susan. Even the shy Sandy
comes out of his shell to brag about how he got beyond the kissing stage of his
and Susan's relationship. This leads to Jonathan calling Susan and eventually
the two of them begin to sneak around behind Sandy's back.
Advancing
into Act II, sometime into the late 50s - early 60s, Sandy is married to Susan.
He meets Jonathan at an ice rink where they watch a beautiful skater (Ann-Margaret, in an Oscar-nominated performance)
from a distance and talk about, what else? Women. Jonathan's take: "You
think a girl goes for you, and you find out she's after your money or your
balls. Women today are better hung than the men."He continues to ramble, slightly to Sandy's
disgust. "It's not as easy getting laid as it used to be," Jonathan
complains, "I don't think I fuck more than a dozen new girls a year
now."
We
find Jonathan out with Bobbie, the gorgeous, redhead with the "tits"
and "ass" Jonathan's looking for in a woman. They eventually shack up together, at Bobbie's suggestion and Jonathan convinces
her to stop working. This causes the relationship to deteriorate as Bobbie
doesn't know what to do with herself all day long alone in the apartment and
Jonathan complains that the place is a pig sty. Sandy,
meanwhile, complains to Jonathan about his life with Susan: "It's funny,
Susan and I do all the right things. We undress in front of each other. We
spend fifteen minutes on foreplay. We experiment, do it in different rooms,
it's a seven-room house. We don't believe in making a ritual of it, we do it
when we feel like it. We don't feel like we have to be passionate all the time.
Sometimes it's even more fun necking," he goes on, finishes with:
"Maybe it's just not meant to be enjoyable with women you love."Jonathan replies: "Sandy, do you want to
get laid?"
No
surprise here; Sandy and Susan divorce. Sandy begins seeing Cindy (Cynthia
O'Neal), a modern, empowered, smart woman. The couples spend a lot of time
together. Things are nearing the end for Bobbie and Jonathan; he doesn't want
children and doesn't want to marry Bobbie. Before Cindy and Sandy arrive at
their apartment Jonathan and Bobbie get into a heated argument that finds
Bobbie not fully dressed in the bedroom. Things come to a head and a disturbing
end when, while at Jonathan's apartment he suggests to Sandy that they swap
women and Sandy goes along with it.
Advancing
to Act III, late 60s - early 70s, middle-aged Jonathan presents a slide show
"Ball-Busters on Parade," at his place showing the loves of his life
to a hippyish, middle-aged Sandi and Jennifer (Carol Kane), his eighteen-year-old
girlfriend. Jonathan mistakenly shows a slide of Susan, but Sandy notices.
Jonathan, showing a slide of Bobbie, "The king of the ball-busters. She
conned me into marrying her and now she's killing me with alimony." As he
continues his narration, he becomes angrier, vulgar and misogynistic. Then he
insults Jennifer and she and Sandy walk out without a word.
A
nighttime walk with the two old "friends" is the last time we see
them together. The conversation teeters between the then and now, the us and
them. Jonathan makes fun of Sandy's relationship with Jennifer. "She knows
worlds which I cannot begin to touch yet," Sandy tells him. "You give
up bad vibrations." "Sandy I love you," Jonathan retorts,
"but you're a schmuck." Sandy tells Jonathan he can find what he's
found. The last words we hear between the "friends" are Jonathan's:
"Don't make me insult you."
The
film ends with, after a time passage, Jonathan going to Louise's (Rita Moreno)
apartment. Louise is a prostitute for whom Jonathan is a regular customer.
Louise performs a monologue/dialogue that also seems to be part of their usual
routine. At one point she messes it up angering Jonathan. Obviously, it's
Jonathan's creation, and the only thing that can get him erect is to hear her compliment
his virility.
“Carnal
Knowledge” was so controversial in 1971 that, after a conviction of a theater
manager, Mr. Jenkins in Albany, Georgia for "distributing obscene
material" was upheld by the Supreme Court of Georgia, the US Supreme court
overturned the conviction: "Our own viewing of the film satisfies us that “Carnal
Knowledge” could not be found … to depict sexual conduct in a patently
offensive way. Nothing in the movie falls within … material which may
constitutionally be found … "patently offensive" … While the subject
matter of the picture is, in a broader sense, sex, and there are scenes in
which sexual conduct including "ultimate sexual acts" is to be
understood to be taking place, the camera does not focus on the bodies of the
actors at such times. There is no exhibition whatever of the actors' genitals,
lewd or otherwise, during these scenes. There are occasional scenes of nudity,
but nudity alone is not enough to make material legally obscene… Appellant's
showing of the film “Carnal Knowledge” is simply not the "public portrayal
of hardcore sexual conduct for its own sake, and for the ensuing commercial
gain" which we said was punishable…"[1]
The
film received mixed reviews. Roger Ebert called it "clearly Mike Nichols'
best film." Others were not so kind but there were more positive reviews
than negative. Vincent Canby: "a nearly ideal collaboration of directorial
and writing talents" that was "not only very funny, but in a casual
way—in the way of something observed in a half-light—more profound than much
more ambitious films."Gavin
Millar: "Though not the last word on the subject, it's still a telling and
unhysterical assault on male chauvinism; and if that's fashionable, it's not
unwelcome." "The iciest, most merciless and most repellent major (and
seriously intended) motion picture in a very long time." - Charles
Champlin. "Basically a one-note story ... The characters do not change or
learn; they do not even repeat their mistakes in very interesting ways." -
Gene Siskel. "This movie says not merely that there are some people like
these, but that this is it—that is, that this movie, in its own
satirical terms, presents a more accurate view of men and women than
conventional movies do. That may be the case, but the movie isn't
convincing." - Pauline Kael.
“Carnal
Knowledge” is sometimes referred to as a "coming of age film." But do
people actually come of age when they seem to be incapable of maturing? It's a
film that can make one examine and question the relationships in their lives.
How long does one put up with a toxic person? How bad is someone's insecurity
that they need constant, positive, reinforcement in their lives? “Carnal
Knowledge” is a great film but not necessarily a good story.
The
new 4K restoration will be running at the Film Forum in Manhattan from Sept. 2
- Sept. 8. Details on the Film Forum's website:
The year 1979 was a good one for vampires, cinematically speaking. John Badham's version of "Dracula" premiered starring Frank Langella in the film version of his Broadway hit, George Hamilton had a surprise success with the spoof "Love At First Bite" and German director Werner Herzog unveiled his remake of the classic German silent horror movie "Nosferatu: The Vampyre". The original version by director F.W. Murnau is still regarded by many as the greatest horror movie ever made. Indeed, the mere sight of the film's star Max Schreck (who was as eerie in real life as he was on screen) is enough to give you nightmares. Herzog's version was not only the best of the vampire films released in 1979, it is a fitting homage to the Murnau classic. Working with a relatively extravagant budget, Herzog produced a film that is eerie and unsettling. He refrains from going for quick shocks, relying instead on the overall unnerving atmosphere that resonates throughout the production. Perhaps the most iconic aspect of the film is Klaus Kinski's remarkable resemblance to the character played in the original by Schreck, who embodied what is perhaps the most unnerving movie monster of all time. Kinski's appearance mirrors that of Schreck but the actor brings his own persona to the role.
The film, based on Bram Stoker's novel Dracula, opens with Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) leading an idyllic life with his beautiful young wife Lucy (Isabelle Adjani). His boss, Renfield (Roland Topor), induces him to make an arduous journey to Transylvania to visit the eccentric but rich Count Dracula, who has expressed interest in buying a house in Harker's town. Harker is enthused about the mission because of the financial rewards but Lucy has a premonition that the journey will have disastrous consequences. She pleads with him not to go but to no avail. Harker sets off over mountain roads that lead through deep forests. The nearer he gets to the Count's castle the more unnerved the local peasants are. They blatantly warn him to turn back, citing eerie disappearances and deaths associated with Dracula. Harker dismisses their concerns as the superstitions of unsophisticated people. However, upon arrival at Dracula's castle he immediately has second thoughts. The Count is a corpse-like, sinewy figure with almost impossibly long fingernails who talks in a whispery voice that is more menacing than comforting. In the cold dank castle, Dracula serves Harker a meal then becomes obsessed with sucking the blood from a small cut Harker has suffered from a kitchen knife. The Count assures him that's all just a homespun way of treating the wound. Harker, increasingly unnerved, realizes he has made a mistake in visiting the castle but it's too late to escape. Dracula notices a locket with Lucy's photograph in it and makes inquiries about her, much to Harker's distress. In the morning, Harker awakens to find he has been imprisoned in the castle- and worse, he has been the victim of a vampire. Having arranged the sale of the house to Dracula, he realizes he is in a race against time to return to his village before the Count arrives there. He is desperately ill, however, and fails in his quest. Meanwhile, Dracula has stowed away inside a coffin on board a cargo ship headed towards the town of his destination. Along the way, crew members begin to die mysteriously. By the time the vessel arrives in port, it is a ghost ship, devoid of any human life with only the captain's log hinting at the horror he has witnessed. Accompanying Dracula on board the ship were thousands of rats who now run amok in the town, spreading the plague. Harker is returned to Lucy by some kindly peasants, but he is very ill and in a zombie-like condition. Lucy is then threatened by the appearance of Dracula in her own bedroom and she realizes that the town is being victimized by a vampire, though no one believes her. As the plague takes its toll on the citizenry, the town falls into chaos- and Lucy becomes determined to kill Dracula even if she must do so by herself.
Herzog, who also wrote the screenplay, has fashioned a film that oozes menace to the extent that even before the appearance of Dracula, the movie has a sense of foreboding. It is a rather cold and emotionless film, more visually interesting than moving. Herzog seems to intentionally present his protagonists in a dispassionate manner. He provides cursory details of their lives but seems to be far more interested in making almost every frame a work of art. To a great degree he succeeded. There are images in Nosferatu that will haunt the viewer, but there's no getting around the fact that there isn't anyone the audience can truly relate to. Neither Harker or Lucy are ever seen as anything more than one dimensional characters. The silly eccentric Renfield is largely wasted in the latter part of the story. He does become a servant of Dracula but this plot device is disposed of rather quickly. Prof. Van Helsing (Walter Ladengast), who is generally presented as the hero in Dracula films, is shown here to be a half-senile old fool who realizes too late that a vampire may be running amok. Herzog provides plenty of memorable moments, among which are scenes of the town's rapid decay into death and disaster because of the plague. As Lucy walks through the town square, she witnesses doomed people acting out their final fantasies, whether it is indulging in a last sumptuous feast, dancing wildly or illogically stealing furniture from vacant stores. Composer Popul Vuh provides an appropriately eerie score throughout.
Herzog's Nosferatu is a poetic experience in many ways. It's leisurely pace and low-key tone make it one of the more unusual horror films you'll ever see. However, it can be deemed a success by virtue of the fact that he and Kinski brought relevancy to this remake of what many people believe is the greatest German film ever made.
The excellent Shout! Factory Blu-ray features both the German and English language versions of the film and a commentary track by Herzog, whose soothing, rather monotonous tone becomes somewhat mesmerizing. He provides interesting insights into the making of the film and this is complimented by the inclusion of a vintage "making of" production short that shows fascinating footage of Herzog and Kinski during production, including Kinski's rather arduous daily makeup sessions. Also included is a photo gallery showing great behind the scenes shots of Herzog at work. There are also a selection of superbly designed original trailers that truly convey the menace of the titular character.
"The Rounders", the contemporary 1965 Western
comedy, is available on Blu-ray from the Warner Archive. The film is primarily
notable for the teaming of Glenn Ford and Henry Fonda, two estimable Hollywood
stars who could be relied upon to play convincingly in both dark, somber dramas
and frolicking comedies. "The Rounders" was directed and written by
Burt Kennedy, who adapted a novel from by Max Evans. Kennedy was a veteran of
big studio productions who worked his way from screenwriter to director. If he
never made any indisputable classics, it can be said that he made a good many
films that were top-notch entertainment. Among them: "Support Your Local
Sheriff", "The War Wagon", "Hannie Caulder" and
"The Train Robbers". While Westerns were Kennedy's specialty, he did
have a prestigious achievement with his screenplay for Clint Eastwood's
woefully under-praised 1990 film "White Hunter, Black Heart". It's
not an insult to state that most of Kennedy's directorial efforts could be
considered lightweight. They were not concerned with social issues and
generally had a Hawksian emphasis on heroes who engaged in good-natured
bantering ("The War Wagon" is the best example of this.) Those elements
are in full display in "The Rounders" but the film never rises above
the status of resembling an extended episode of a TV sitcom from the era. That
isn't meant as a knock, considering how many good TV sitcoms were on the
airwaves in 1965, but there is a rather lazy element to the production and one
would suspect that an old pro like Kennedy probably knocked off the script over
a long lunch.
The
film, set in contemporary Arizona, finds Ford and Fonda playing Ben Jones and
"Howdy" Lewis (his real name is Marion, but he's too ashamed to admit
it, which is a nice inside joke aimed at Fonda's old pal John Wayne, whose real
name was Marion Morrison.) The two are middle-aged wranglers who make
ends meet by "breaking" and taming wild horses. It's a
rough-and-tumble profession that inevitably results in them being tossed around
like rag dolls as they ride atop bucking broncos. However, Ben and
"Howdy" are still the best in their profession, although their meager
wages have left them with no tangible assets beyond a beaten-up pickup truck.
Local land baron Jim Ed Love (Chill Wills) hires them to spend the winter in a
dilapidated cabin in the mountains in order to round up stray horses and keep
them safe until spring. The assignment means enduring harsh weather and
complete isolation, but the pair need the money so they accept. Since Fonda and
Ford are the stars, there's no chance of this evolving into a "Brokeback
Mountain" scenario and the two spend time gazing at a poster that depicts
a ridiculously sanitized hula girl, a symbol of Ben's long-time dream of
moving to a tropical island. Much of the script centers on their trials
and tribulations in attempting to break a particularly rebellious roan horse
that defies conforming to their commands. It gets personal with Ben, who
decides that at the end of winter, he will buy the horse from Love for the
simple pleasure of taking him to a soap factory. The two men survive the winter
and head off (with roan horse in tow) to the big rodeo, a stop they make every
year in order to supplement their income by winning bucking bronco riding
contests. Along they way they have a chance encounter with two sisters who
happen to be exotic dancers (Sue Ane Langdon and Hope Holiday). They are
amiable bubbleheads but after the men have been in the mountains sans female
companionship for many months, they can't resist attempting to woo them. The
family-friendly screenplay is quite timid when it comes to depicting
adult sexual behavior. Ben and "Howdy" are understandably enticed by
the vivacious sisters but they seem satiated by inducing them to join them in a
moonlight skinny-dipping session, which is interrupted by a police raid. The
climax finds the two partners attempting to use the unbreakable roan horse as a
gimmick to lure local wranglers and riders to bet money they can best him.
There's a bit of a con in their scheme, but as one might suspect, their plans
go awry and they don't benefit from any ill-gotten gains. As you might also
suspect, the roan horse earns Ben's respect and never makes it to that dreaded
soap factory.
That's
pretty much the entire plot of "The Rounders", which is lightweight
enough to resemble a celluloid wisp of smoke. If it's never boring, it's also
never very engaging, as we keep expecting the script to provide some kind of
creative or engaging plot device that never arrives. Still, it has its
pleasures and Fonda and Ford exude real chemistry that elevates the proceedings
substantially. There is also the wonder of the magnificent Arizona locations, a
jaunty musical score by Jeff Alexander and a marvelous cast of reliable and
familiar character actors that, in addition to the incomparable Chill Wills,
includes Edgar Buchanan, Kathleen Freeman, Barton MacLane, Doodles Weaver and
Denver Pyle.
When
the film was released, even MGM felt the production was rather lacking in
commercial appeal. Village Voice critic Andrew Sarris, who gave the film some faint praise, justifiably took issue with
the fact that the studio had buried "The Rounders" by placing it at
the bottom of a double-feature with a forgettable teeny bopper musical,
"Get Yourself a College Girl". He said it must have been
depressing for all involved to have a film headlining Glenn Ford and Henry
Fonda play second fiddle to a movie that starred Mary Ann Mobley and Nancy
Sinatra. He also praised Burt Kennedy, acknowledging that his often estimable
contributions to the film business were generally overlooked. Unexpectedly,
however, "The Rounders" proved to be a hit in its own right. It drew
devoted fans in rural areas and on the drive-in circuit and ended up
overshadowing the top-of-the-bill feature. It would even later be made into a
television series starring Patrick Wayne, Ron Hayes and Chill Wills, reprising
his role from the film.
The
Warner Archive Blu-ray does justice to Paul Vogel's impressive cinematography
by providing a truly impressive and all-around gorgeous Blu-ray transfer. The
release also includes the original trailer.
By the late 1960s, Jacqueline Bisset was clearly one of the "It" girls among a bevy of starlets who crossed over from flash-in-the-pan status to becoming a genuine star in their own right. Her breakthrough role opposite Steve McQueen in the 1968 blockbuster "Bullitt" helped catapult the British beauty to the top ranks of actresses who were deemed to have international boxoffice appeal. Among her major Hollywood successes: "The Detective", "Airport" and "The Deep". In between, however, Bisset was open to appearing in off-beat films that were most suited for the art house circuit. One of the more unusual productions was "Secret World", a 1969 French film that was the antithesis of the commercial successes she was enjoying. The film was directed by Robert Freeman, a famed photographer who is credited with shooting many of the classic album covers for The Beatles. (Some sources credit Paul Feyder as co-director but the film does not give him this status in the main titles or on the poster.)The film is a moody, slow-moving tale about troubled people in troubled relationships. It's nevertheless oddly compelling and retains the viewer's interest because of the unveiling of key information about the characters and their motives on a drip...drip...drip basis.
The film opens with scenes of Francois (Jean-Francois Vlerick, billed here as Jean-Francois Maurin), an 11 year-old boy who is rather morose and somber. He is living in a French country manor house that, like the family that inhabits it, has seen better days. Francois is under the care of his Aunt Florence (Giselle Pascal) and Uncle Phillippe (Pierre Zimmer), a forty-something couple whose marriage is strained. They go through the motions of keeping their relationship civil, but it's clear the passion is long gone. We see Francois finding some degree of enjoyment in solitude when he retreats to his tree house where he peruses a small box of "treasures", which are various household oddities that he has secreted in his domain. Florence and Phillippe receive an unexpected visit from their son Olivier (Marc Porel), a handsome but irresponsible young man who lives off his parent's money. Like the relationship between his parents, Olivier's dealings with them are similarly strained. Francois observes all of this somberly, rarely speaking unless spoken to.
Phillippe announces that they are to have a visitor arriving soon from London: Wendy (Jacqueline Bisset, quite becoming as a blonde), the daughter of an old war buddy who once saved his life. When she shows up, her presence has an immediate impact on everyone in the house. Wendy is polite, out-going, generous and stunningly beautiful. Immediately, Olivier decides to postpone his departure in the hopes of wooing and seducing her. Phillippe seems similarly smitten and Florence is clearly threatened by the arrival of the attractive young woman. As the days pass, Wendy also builds a relationship with Francois, who becomes obsessed with her. He steals a bottle of her perfume so he can have a constant reminder of her presence. She, in turn, plays a combination role of big sister and mother, taking Francois under her wing and spending quality time with him. She later learns that he was been adopted by his aunt and uncle after his parents died in a terrible car crash. Worse, Francois suffered the trauma of being trapped under his mother's body for hours. With Wendy able to reach him in a way that no one else can, Francois's mood begins to lighten. Before long, he is bragging to his small circle of friends that she is his girlfriend, although it is never clear whether his fascination with her is based on his budding sexual instincts or simply because she has fulfilled a nurturing role that has been absent from his life since the death of his mother. As the story progresses, we also learn that Phillippe and Wendy are actually long-time lovers and that her visit from London has been arranged simply so they can spend time together. Before long, Phillippe finds himself in competition with Olivier for her attention. Florence clearly suspects that her husband's interest in Wendy is more than platonic. In a rather cringe-inducing scene, she is mocked by the male members of her household when she decides to have her hair dyed blonde in an obvious attempt to compete with the younger woman. The relationships between the principals continue to deteriorate even as Wendy and Francois become closer. An off-hand remark made by her in jest is taken seriously by the young boy who believes that they are to run away together and live in England, which leads to the inevitable heartbreaking conclusion.
There are no dramatic fireworks or show-stopping moments built into the script but the film is extremely well acted and at some points, you feel as though you are eavesdropping on a real family. Bisset ignites the screen in this early starring role as a woman who is the unintended catalyst for a lot of anxiety for the males in her life. Director Freeman handles the proceedings with sensitivity and he gets significant assistance from the fine cinematography of Peter Biziou. The U.S. marketing campaign for the film was somewhat misleading with its implication that it centered on an illicit sexual relationship between a young woman and an under-age boy. In fact, the sexual element is completely one-sided from standpoint of Francois and there aren't any erotic sequences in the film at all- just an abundance of good actors working with a believable and engrossing script. Recommended.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
25 August 2022
Today, Pinewood Studios have announced that a new sound
stage will be named in honour of the late Sir Sean Connery on what would have
been the Academy Award-winning actor’s 92nd birthday. Officially named, The Sean
Connery Stage, the 18,000 square foot purpose-built sound stage is one of five
new stages opening on the Pinewood Studios lot. Recognised as one of the most
influential and successful actors of his generation, Sean Connery was the first
actor to portray James Bond on the big screen in EON Productions’ Dr No, shot
at Pinewood Studios in 1962. The film was produced by Albert R ‘Cubby’ Broccoli
and Harry Saltzman (EON Productions), directed by Terence Young on Pinewood
Studios’ original A, B, C and D stages and on location in Jamaica. Following
the phenomenal success of Dr. No, Connery starred in a further five James Bond
films produced by EON Productions and shot at Pinewood Studios; From Russia
With Love (1963), Goldfinger (1964), Thunderball (1965), You Only Live Twice
(1967) and Diamonds Are Forever (1971). Connery’s interpretation of the role
helped establish the foundation for the success of the James Bond series which
celebrates its 60thAnniversary this year. Connery’s history with Pinewood and
Shepperton Studios extends beyond the James Bond films returning numerous times
between 1957 and 1999. First passing through the gates of Pinewood Studios for
Hell Drivers (1957), other titles from his extensive filmography include On the
Fiddle (1961) at Shepperton, Woman of Straw (1964) at Pinewood, The Russia
House (1990) Pinewood, Robin Hood – Prince of Thieves (1991) Shepperton, First
Knight (1995) Pinewood and Entrapment (1999) at both Pinewood and Shepperton.
On behalf of the Connery family, Stephane and Jason
Connery commented: “Our family consider it a great honor to have a stage named
after Sean. It is fitting considering the amount of time Sean spent at Pinewood
and we know that he would have been very touched by this privilege.”
Pinewood Group Chairman,
Paul Golding said: “We are delighted to announce that one of our five new sound
stages at Pinewood Studios will be named, ‘The Sean Connery Stage’. The revered
actor, and original James Bond, had a life-long connection with both Pinewood
and Shepperton Studios. It is fitting that the naming ceremony will take place
in 2022, the 60th anniversary year of the James Bond films. ”Connery’s extensive
services to the film industry have been reflected in the many Awards he
received over his illustrious career, including an Academy Award, two BAFTA
Awards (including the BAFTA Fellowship), three Golden Globes, including the
Cecil B. DeMille Award. In 1987, he was made a Commander of the Order of Arts
and Letters in France and in 1991 he received the Freedom of the City honour by
the City of Edinburgh. In the United States, Connery received The US Kennedy
Center Honors lifetime achievement award in 1999 and the American Film
Institute’s prestigious Life Achievement Award.Connery was knighted in the 2000
New Year Honours for services to film drama.
Were
it not for the beloved nature of Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz
(1939), itself a financial failure upon its original release but finally making
a profit decades later, there is a good bet that many fantasy films would never
have seen the light of day. I get the feeling that director Jean Yarbrough’s Jack and
the Beanstalk (1952), which opened at the Warner in New York in April 1952
and was the first color outing by the late great comedy team of Abbott and
Costello, falls into that camp. The inspiration for the film reportedly came
from Mr. Costello’s daughter, Christine, who asked him to read her the
fairytale one night before bed, and he was so taken with the story that he
decided that it would be a good vehicle for him and his partner, Bud Abbott, to
make in the hopes of reaching young children in the audience.
From
the opening sepia-toned “real-life” scenes to the colorful fantasy sequences, Jack
and the Beanstalk may be delightful for children but is an uneven comedy
for all but perhaps the comedy duo’s most fervent admirers. While it is indeed
whimsical, it lacks the re-watch factor found in Gus Meins and Charley Rogers’s
wonderful comedy/musical March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934) starring
another great comedy team, Laurel and Hardy, a film that I grew up on and can
still watch today.
Donald
Larkin (child actor David Stollery), a self-described problem child, is a
precocious nine-year-old whose older sister, Eloise (Shaye Cogan), wants to
attend the rehearsal of a play with her fiancé Arthur (James Alexander),
however a babysitter for Donald is nowhere in sight. Through a mishap, Lou
Costello and Bud Abbott end up taking on the boy through the Cosman Employment
Agency while they are looking for work. Lou and Bud make their way to Donald’s
house and Lou banters with Donald. Lou attempts to read Donald “Jack and the
Beanstalk”, but the wording proves too much for him. In a reversal of roles,
Donald becomes the reader, but Lou falls asleep, and we are taken into the
fairy tale in color. In Lou’s dream, Jack (as portrayed by Lou) finds himself
face to face with a giant (Buddy Baer) who gives him a run for his money. Jack
has a cow named Henry and ends up selling Henry for some magic beans. Just as
in the fairy tale, the magic beans are planted and, in a quick but charming
animated sequence, the magic beanstalk grows high into the sky. Jack marvels at
its height and, along with the village butcher Mr. Dinklepuss (Bud in a
supporting role), climbs into the giant’s abode and finds a wealth of treasures
that he took from the villagers, including a hen that lays golden eggs and a
large harp with a truly maniacal-looking face fashioned on the end of it. I can
imagine many a child in the audience being frightened by this image. A
kidnapped prince (James Alexander) and princess (Shaye Coggan) become the
objects that Jack attempts to extricate from the giant’s clutches.
It’s
disarming to see the Warner Brothers logo before the film given that the team
made nearly twenty films for Universal Pictures. While it’s certainly not one
of the duo’s best films – much of the acting is wooden and their antics and
jokes seem a little forced. However the slapstick would no doubt be appreciated
by youngsters and the film actually improves during the musical numbers. Mr. Costello sings the film’s best tune, “I
Fear Nothing”, which you’ll be singing for days after viewing the film, and
there is a funny dance routine that is lifted from Hold That Ghost
(1941).
While
this film has been available on home video many times before (on DVD in 1999, 2000,
2001, and 2012 and in 2020 on Blu-ray), if you’re a true Abbott and Costello
completist the new 70th anniversary 2022 Blu-ray from ClassicFlix.com is the way to go as it
contains a 4K restoration of the film in color as well as a whole host of
extras not found anywhere else.
Bonus
Features:
Newly
recorded feature introduction by Lou’s youngest daughter, Chris Costello. This is in high definition and runs 1:12 and
you have the option of watching it or not.
Commentary
by Abbott and Costello expert Ron Palumbo, with recollections from Jack and
the Beanstalk co-star David Stollery. The information that Mr. Palumbo
knows about this duo is unreal. His rapid-fire discussion of the onscreen
antics and the behind-the-scenes history of the images are well researched and
encyclopedic. He informs us that the sepia-toned opening was filmed after the
color sequences, and that the film was shot between July 9th and
August 2nd in 1951. A real pleasure to listen to.
Who's
On First? on December 2,
1940 – this is very cool: Abbott and Costello performing for military troops
and is presented in high definition and runs 4:05.
Imperfect
Spectrum: A Brief History of Cinecolor by Jack Theakston – in high definition and running 13:21.
This is a fascinating piece that explains both the history of and the workings
of Cinecolor. I wish that someone would do a full-blown documentary on this and
Technicolor.
Climbing
the Scales: The Music of Jack and the Beanstalk – in high definition and running 9:18,
this piece gives us a look at the creation of the musical score and the songs
in the film.
Cutting
Down the Beanstalk – in
high definition and running 18:30, this piece recreates the 26 minutes of
footage that was excised prior to the film’s release. Ron Palumbo provides the
running commentary.
Abbott
and Costello Meet the Creature
– in high definition and running 15:00, this piece is from February 1954 and
shows Bud and Lou looking through some props from their past movies. Glenn
Strange appears as Frankenstein's Monster, recreating his famous bits from Abbott
and Costello Meet Frankenstein.
Rudy
Vallee Radio Sketch – in
high definition and running 6:16, this piece is a radio bit set to images.
Restoration
Demo – in high definition and running 3:10,
this piece shows how the film looked before and after the restoration.
Image
Gallery
Behind
the Scenes photo gallery by Chip Ordway with 1952 children's recording – in high definition and running 7:02,
this includes a wealth of images taken on the set with Bud and Lou telling the
story of Jack and the Beanstalk (at 2:31, it sounds as though Lou is saying
“godammit”, which I cannot believe, but then it sounds like “there Abbott!”)
Publicity
Materials photo gallery by Chip Ordway
– in high definition and running 12:15, this is exactly what the description indicates.
Trailers:
Abbott
and Costello Trailer Rarities
– in high definition and running 41:04, this features 18 original "Coming
Attractions" previews, including Jack and the Beanstalk. The
condition of some of them vary from poor to excellent.
Fireman
Save My Child – in
high definition and running 2:10, this features two commentary tracks: one by
Mike Ballew (3-D aficionado) and the other with Ron Palumbo.
ClassicFlix
Trailers: There are several trailers here for other titles by ClassicFlix,
among them the Marx Brothers’ A Night in Casablanca (1946) which
actually begins the disc when you start it up. It runs 2:17. The only way to skip
the trailer is to fast forward through it. Also included are Abbott and
Costello’s TV show, The Little Rascals, Merrily We Live, and Zenobia.
We know for a fact that at least some of our readers of a certain age still have this record album in their collections. It was released in the mid-1960s at the peak of the spy boom that dominated films and television series. This particular album by a variety of jazz artists features themes from popular movies and TV series as well as some original compositions inspired by the spy guys. Click the play button below to hear the entire album.
Actors and directors have a long tradition of trying to pass off exotic vacations as legitimate film making. Sometimes the cynical gambit pays unexpected dividends such as the Rat Pack's decision to shoot Oceans Eleven in between their nightly gigs on stage in the Sands hotel and casino in Las Vegas. They somehow turned out a good movie in between all the drinking, screwing and gambling. John Ford rounded up his stock company and headed to Hawaii for Donovan's Reef, but even with John Wayne on board, Paramount balked at the reed-thin script and old Pappy ended up having to front some of the production costs himself. In 1990, director Michael Winner teamed two of the wittiest and most likable stars- Michael Caine and Roger Moore- for what would appear to be a "no lose" proposition: casting them in an espionage comedy. Winner was well past his sell date as a director by then and ended up reinventing himself as a grouchy political pundit and much-feared restaurant critic. Still, how could he lose by teaming Harry Palmer and James Bond? It's a rhetorical question because the resulting film, Bullseye, was considered almost unreleasable. It's one of the least-seen movies of Caine and Moore's careers and with good reason. The ridiculous plot finds the two charismatic actors cast as two low-grade London con men who become embroiled in a plot to impersonate two renegade nuclear scientists who plan to sell top secrets to dangerous foreign powers. The silliest aspect of the film is that the scientists just happen to be physically identical to the con men. Moore and Caine are subjected to a series of increasingly weird scenarios that see them running about like the Keystone Cops as any shred of sensibility in the script is tossed out the window. They are joined by B movie mainstay of the era Sally Kirkland and Moore's daughter Deborah (billed here as "Deborah Barrymore") but not even the resurrection of Marilyn Monroe's sex appeal could salvage this cinematic train wreck. Winner seems to be directing as an afterthought as he indulges in some gorgeous locations in Scotland where the on-screen antics become so confusing that you literally have no idea whether you are observing the con men or the scientists. Winner films the final scene in an exotic island location which is quite obviously an indication of his ability to actually fly everyone there simply to shoot a few seconds of inconsequential footage. Winner wrote the non-screenplay with another otherwise talented person, the great lyricist and songwriter Leslie Bricusse. The only consolation they must have had is that they had a hell of a time on location and no one saw the movie anyway.
Personal observation: In 2017, following the death of Sir Roger Moore, a suitably opulent memorial service was held for him at Pinewood Studios, arranged by his friend, personal assistant and frequent co-author, Cinema Retro's own Gareth Owen. The service reflected the man himself: it was sentimental and funny as hell. Following the memorial, there was a champagne reception in the fabled gardens area. I found myself sipping bubbly next to Sir Michael Caine. In the parlance of the Brits, he and Roger had been best mates for decades. I mentioned to him that it was a shame that the only time they had teamed on screen was for "Bullseye". Sir Michael grinned and said he and Roger referred to the film as "Our "Ishtar", a reference to the notorious flop comedy from 1987. He said they had figured out very quickly that Michael Winner wasn't interested in the film. That was evidenced by the fact that every night he would whisk his stars away for dinner at another opulent restaurant and bill the entire meal to the studio. A great time was had by all. Consequently, he said that he and Roger agreed on two things: "Bullseye" was the worst film of their careers and, paradoxically, it was the most fun they ever had on a film set.
(The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)
In the 1960s,
Hollywood studios were ingenious in retooling foreign B-movies for American
drive-ins and double-feature bills.For a perfect case study in their techniques, you would have to look no further
than “Samson and the 7 Miracles of the World,” which American-International
Pictures released here in 1962.The
original Italian version was called “Maciste alla corte del Gran Khan,” or
“Maciste in the Court of the Great Khan” (1961), directed by Riccardo Freda.To some extent, it was already
made-to-order for small-town U.S. ticket-buyers.The star, Gordon Scott, was
well known from his iconic role as Tarzan in five popular films from 1955 to
1960.His co-star, the
French-born Japanese actress Yoko Tani, had recently been top-billed in “The
Savage Innocents” (1960), “First Spaceship on Venus” (1961), and “Marco Polo”
(1962).Moreover,
although critically scorned, strongman epics like this one had a reliable
market among eleven-year-olds and undemanding adults.On the other hand, although
beloved in Italy, the character “Maciste” had no brand-name value on these
shores, and at 98 minutes, the film was too long to fit into its designated
position as half of a thrifty double-feature.No problem.As it had done in acquiring an
earlier Maciste production, known here as “Son of Samson,” AIP substituted
“Samson” for “Maciste,” and replaced the original title with one more likely to
resonate on drive-in marquees.Twenty-two
minutes of footage were removed, eliminating some colorful but tedious back
story, and a pulpy, dramatic lobby poster was commissioned.The graphics were classic.As a muscular, loin-clothed
Gordon Scott pushes over a pillar, a winsome beauty in a harem costume watches.
The girl looks only vaguely Asian and not at all like Yoko Tani.
In the film, Samson
turns up in medieval China where the Mongols have taken over the royal court.The young Chinese prince Tai
Sung is emperor in name only, and his sister Lei-ling has been banished to a
Buddhist convent.The
real power behind the throne is Garak, the tyrannical Great Khan of the
Mongols, who rules as regent, with ruthlessly astute guidance from his mistress
Liu Tai.When rebellious
Chinese peasants mount a feeble resistance, Garak decides it’s time to up his
game.Tai Sung will
“accidentally” die during a tiger hunt, and Mongol soldiers masquerading as
rebels will attack the Buddhist convent and kill the princess.Enter Samson to rescue the
prince from the tiger (as Scott gamely wrestles with an actual, drugged tiger
in some shots, and with a life-sized, stuffed replica in others), while
Lei-ling escapes the massacre at the convent and finds refuge with the freedom
fighters.If this sounds
like the usual playbook for the Samson, Hercules, and Goliath epics of the
1960s, it could also describe any of the “Star Wars” movies.Ditch the tiger, insert a
Wampa or a Rancor instead.George
Lucas’ original trilogies and their sequels from Disney may be more to the
tastes of modern audiences but they’re just as simplistic at heart, when you
come right down to it.
A new Blu-ray edition
from Kino Lorber Studio Classics presents the movie in both its original,
98-minute Italian version and its 76-minute AIP edit, both in the widescreen
2.35:1 format.One
caveat: purists may be disappointed by the soundtrack for the Italian version.It’s an intermediate
English-language track where the hero is still called “Maciste,” perhaps from
the 1964 U.K. release, and not the original Italian voice track.Opening and closing credits
for the AIP edit are inserted from what appears to be an old VHS or television
print.In either version,
attention should be paid to Hélène Chanel as the Khan’s mistress Liu Tai.We may commend the Italians
for casting Yoko Tani as the captive princess Lei-ling at a time when it was
rare to find Asian characters actually played by Asian actors in prominent
roles, but Chanel has the more dynamic female role, and she makes the most of
it with her slinky costumes and icy beauty.The AIP edit features audio
commentary from Tim Lucas, who unpacks a bounty of information about the film
in both iterations.Helpfully
for those of us who might be hard-pressed to identify any of the miracles
promised by American-International, he lists all seven.
The Kino Lorber
Blu-ray also features captions for the deaf and hearing impaired, several
trailers (although oddly, none for “Samson and the 7 Miracles of the World”
itself), and a reversible sleeve.The wonderful AIP poster art appears on one side, and alternative art
from the Italian poster on the other.
Writer/director/producer Russell Rouse may
not be a household name, but his credits are pretty impressive. For instance,
he co-wrote the 1949 film noir classic
D.O.A. (and the 1988 remake). Russell also co-wrote and directed the 1956
western The Fastest Gun Alive which
starred Glenn Ford. He was nominated for an Academy Award for co-writing the
1951 drama The Well, and in 1959
Rouse finally won the Oscar for co-writing the Pillow Talk screenplay. Recently, the 1967 heist film The Caper of the Golden Bulls, which
was directed by Rouse, has been released on Blu-ray.
The Caper of the
Golden Bulls concerns
former bank robber Peter Churchman (Stephen Boyd) who is blackmailed by an old
flame (Giovanna Ralli) into stealing priceless jewels from a bank in Spain. Along
with his girlfriend (Yvette Mimieux) and his old crew, Churchman attempts to
pull off the dangerous heist during the annual “Running of the Bulls” festival.
Filmed on location in Spain, The Caper of the Golden Bulls is an
entertaining and well-done caper film which features fun performances from
Boyd, Mimieux and Ralli as well as from many other talented and familiar faces
(who all seem to be having a good time) such as Vito Scotti, Walter Slezak,
Clifton James, Jay Novello, Henry Beckman, Leon Askin, J.G. Devlin, Arnold Moss
and Noah Keen.
I thoroughly enjoyed this film. It’s a very
watchable caper flick with a strong cast, an involving story, solid direction
and beautiful locations. The cute film also benefits from a terrific musical
score by the great Vic Mizzy and lovely cinematography by Academy Award nominee
Harold E. Stine. I definitely recommend checking it out.
The Caper of the
Golden Bulls has
been released on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. The film is presented in its
original 1:85:1 aspect ratio, the 4K transfer looks great and the audio is
clear. Special Features include an audio commentary by film historian Phillipa
Berry and trailers for the films Topkapi,
The Brink’s Job, Loophole, The Real McCoy, The Mercenary and The Neptune Factor.
It’s always good to see one of our leading
European labels continue to bring us some exciting scores from the 1970s.
José María Forqué's La Donna Della Calda
Terra (CSC 037) (aka La Mujer De La Tierra Caliente or Fury, as it is sometimes
referred to in English territories) was made in 1978. The movie was a product
of the erotic cinema cycle which was still popular throughout the remaining
years of the decade. The genre was popularised by films such as Emmanuelle
(1974) and would lead to many spin- offs and sequels. La Donna Della Calda
Terra starred Laura Gemser who was perhaps best known for her role in Black
Emanuelle (1975). As so often with these budgeted European movies, a one-time
Hollywood star (who had seen their better days) was hired for a week or two -
providing them not only with a pay cheque, but also an all-expenses paid
vacation abroad, and in this instance it was Stuart Whitman who took full
advantage. The film tells the story of two unnamed characters (Gemser and
Whitman) who, despite very different backgrounds, come together. She is a
village girl with ambitions; he is a man whose wife has recently died. The two
of them converse and get to know one another, and so a journey of discovery
begins. Despite their different social backgrounds and a considerable age
difference, the couple eventually begin an intimate relationship.
The music score for La Donna Della Calda
Terra was composed by Carlo Savina, a composer whose filmography covers almost
every genre of Italian cinema - from the 1950s through to the 1980s. His music
here has an unusual distinction in that the score was heavily rethought during
the editing and eventually the first half hour is left without music, except
for the opening titles. Thus, Savina's score begins when the film changes up
the narrative structure and instead of telling the stories on two parallel
storylines, they start to intercut them more frequently in order to draw
stronger parallels between both central characters. Whilst the general focus is
more tailored towards Gemser's storyline, the switch to a hunting trip in the
man's storyline helps to reframe the girl's next chapter in the film’s
narrative. There’s a really nice mix of styles in Savina’s music. Yes, there is
the obligatory funky disco beat that peppered a great deal of these productions
from this era, but there is also a great deal more. There are some gentle,
romantic cues provided by acoustic guitar, some slightly more suspenseful,
atmospheric pieces that reflect the tension brought upon by the relationship
and even some traditional Mexicana. But overall, La Donna Della Calda Terra is
light, breezy and distinctly European in its flavour. Moreover, the score is
elevated to an entirely higher level with the inclusion of some wonderful
wordless vocals by Edda Dell'Orso both on the main titles and several other
cues. Uniquely identifiable, she remains the ultimate, signature voice of
European film scoring.
Chris' Soundtrack Corner has made this score
available for essentially the first time. With literally half the score going
unused in the beginning of the film, this soundtrack album offers the first
opportunity to enjoy the composer's playful variations of catchy thematic
material, sensual tropical exotica, and even some highly melodramatic mini
masterpieces - all of which is presented in a beautifully produced package. The
album benefits from a first class production by Christian Riedrich and
mastering by Manmade Mastering. The CD is accompanied by a 12-page illustrated
booklet designed by Tobias Kohlhaas and features exclusive (and exceptionally
detailed) notes by Gergely Hubai, who explores both the making of the film and
its score.Euro score fans will soak
this up like a sponge.
CSC’s second offering is the soundtrack to I
Gabbiani Volano Basso (CSC 034) (aka Seagulls Fly Low), another film from 1978
and directed by Giorgio Cristallini (under the Americanised pseudonym of George
Warner).
The movie was influenced by the number of
Vietnam Vet dramas coming out of the United States in 1978 such as The Deer
Hunter and Coming Home, and the Italian cinema didn't waste much time in
capitalising on the commercial potential of these films.
Starring Italian actor Maurizio Merli, who
was often typecast in tough cop roles, I Gabbiani Volano Basso tells the story
of a Vietnam war veteran (Merli) who finds his post-war career in the private
assassination business. After succeeding in a hit in Rome, using various
aliases, the war vet gets into an altercation that leads to a wild chase
involving the police, other killers, and a third shady business partner who
wants to get the whole company for himself. While on the run, Merli's character
hooks up with Isabelle (Nathalie Delon), the lonely owner of a Roman boutique
shop who helps with his escape. But with the two other killers in tow, our hero
must make an important decision between getting away safely while leaving
Isabelle behind in danger, or making the ultimate sacrifice for the only woman
who helped him selflessly.
The music for I Gabbiani Volano Basso was
written by Roberto Pregadio, one of the few Italian Silver Age composers who
also made a career as a television personality. In most of his film scoring
collaborations, it was Pregadio's job to flesh out or transcribe the musical
ideas of his co-composers who usually didn't have the necessary musical
training to do so. Such was the case with I Gabbiani Volano Basso, where
Pregadio is actually credited together with two members of the director's
family, Paola and Carlo Cristallini, though only the latter is given credit.
Besides the music that's in the film, the soundtrack also includes some major
discoveries including music cues that were not originally heard in the finished
film.
This release from Chris' Soundtrack Corner
marks the premiere presentation of any of the music from I Gabbiani Volano
Basso. Certain aspects of the recording indicate that the original production
was prepared for the release of an eventual soundtrack album but the project
did not materialise. One of these clues is that certain cues were recorded in
shorter film versions as well as extended versions that would be more at home
on a soundtrack or exploited on a later library LP, but neither saw the light
of day. Among the differences preserved on the CD is "Title – versione
disco", the record version of the opening music. This version is not only
half a minute longer in comparison to the film version, but it's actually a
different mix with a more prominent focus on the keyboard and the pop
percussion, both of which appear in a lighter fashion in the movie. A great many
of the tracks do follow an upbeat disco rhythm and electronic keyboard riffs,
which provide an instant indicator of the film’s period setting. But it’s
certainly not confined to a pulsating funk-filled timepiece, there are also a
fair amount of more gentle, dreamlike moments that succeed in softening its
harder edges and provide a welcome sense of calm and restfulness - so it’s a
score that is nicely balanced. Its bonus tracks also include ‘Ricordi
angoscianti’ - a traumatic and hectic cue which appears during a Vietnam
flashback sequence shortly after Merli has completed his first hit in Rome. The
album is superbly produced by Christian Riedrich and mastered by Manmade Mastering.
The CD is accompanied by a 12-page illustrated booklet designed by Tobias
Kohlhaas and featuring detailed, exclusive notes on the film and its score by
Gergely Hubai.
Chris' Soundtrack Corner have managed to
weave their magic again by taking two relatively obscure and seldom seen films
by presenting their soundtracks with a new found sense of importance and
respect. We can only be grateful that CSC is prepared and willing to take up
the challenge in their quest for film music preservation.
Sandwiched
between the unfortunate Topaz (1969), which Hitchcock described as an
‘ordeal,’ and his final film, the trifling Family Plot (197), about
which many have been altogether too kind, Frenzy (1972) was the final efflorescence
of Hitchcock’s diabolic, virtuoso talent. He hadn’t had a box office hit since The
Birds, and hadn’t deserved one. Frenzy was both a critical and
commercial success. In the intervening fifty years since its release its
critical stock hasn’t declined, yet is still the least known and least written
about of Hitchcock’s handful of masterworks. This is perhaps because it wasn’t
a star vehicle, though it did feature the leading British theatrical talent of
the time, perhaps because it is the most misanthropic, if not nihilistic of his
films, with an overarching air of grubbiness.
The
failure of Hitchcock’s post-Birds films has generally been discussed in
terms of age and artistic decline, but these films were farragoes due to
factors beyond the director’s control, and in any case Hitchcock’s career was from
the start one of peaks and troughs, of films such as Stage Fright (1950),
Lifeboat (1944) and Rope (1948), that didn’t come near the delirious
aesthetic heights of Vertigo (1958), Frenzy, Psycho (1960)
or The Birds (1963). Frenzy was just another artistic crest and
was the last simply because he didn’t have enough time on earth left for
another.
If
Frenzy hasn’t aged one whit it is because although ostensibly set in 70s
London, with a significant part of it shot on location in Covent Garden, it is
actually set in a purely cinematic, Hitchcockian, time-transcending London.
Hitchcock and his writer, Anthony Shaffer (Sleuth, The Wicker Man)
had the film’s characters speak a slightly archaic diction, to evoke the London
of Jack the Ripper, Crippen, Christie and that of Hitchcock’s first film, The
Lodger (1927), like Frenzy, the story of a woman-murderer at large,
and a man on the run falsely accused of his crimes.
Frenzy
is hardly the ‘love letter’ to the London Hitchcock was born and grew up in
some have lazily taken it to be purely because he returned there towards the
end of his life. Rarely has the city looked so unlovely on screen, squalid
even, with an excremental brown dominating the film’s palette. The city, which
he left for good in 1939, is the setting for themes of the failure of love and
friendship, of humans bestially devouring each other, a seamy setting for
debased and degenerate crime. Much is made of the Covent Garden setting (Covent
Garden was set for demolition in 1974, and it is fascinating to see the area as
a working market), but this is more to do with the motifs of food, eating and
waste running through the film, rather than fond memories – after all the
killer is given the same trade as Hitchcock’s father – a Covent Garden
Greengrocer.
The
film opens with a piece of mordant irony: the camera swoops over and down the
Thames, through Tower Bridge to soaring, majestic, even pompous orchestral
music that might soundtrack a tourist information film. It alights riverside on
the steps of City Hall where an MP is giving a flatulent speech, promising to
clean up the polluted river. Amongst the clapping, animated crowd stands a
motionless, expressionless, black-clad Hitchcock, glaring balefully head. No
whimsy here, in this cameo he is Death. Someone in the crowd spots a woman’s
naked corpse, face-down, bum-up, floating in the Thames, with the necktie that
strangled her still around her neck. From soaring celebratory grandeur to the
utmost sordor of an abused human body become mere waste, part of the estuarial
muck, shat out by death.
And
cut to Richard Blaney (Jon Finch) doing up is tie at the mirror. There’s a
killer on the loose again, an old London story. But it isn’t Blaney. He’s on
his uppers, working as live-in barman, and about to be sacked for helping
himself to the brandy. He’s suspected of being the killer when his estranged
wife Brenda (Barbara Leigh-Hunt) becomes one of the victims after he’s seen
leaving the matrimonial agency she runs just before her dead body is discovered,
the real killer having locked her office door behind him. He goes on the run
and his girlfriend, Babs (Anna Massey) becomes the next victim. Blaney is
caught, sentenced, imprisoned and escapes, intent on the revenge murder of the
real killer. Not as improbable, plot-wise, as it sounds, because the real
killer is Blaney’s friend Rusk (Barry Foster, who would soon hit pay dirt as TV
cop Van der Valk), a becoiffed and dandified Jack-the-Lad and Mummy’s Boy,
and a regular at the pub where both Blaney and Babs work. We know he’s the
killer less than fifteen minutes into the film, creating unease in every scene
in which he appears. He’s, likeable, helpful, everyone’s obliging friend,
though he lets slip his nihilistic cynicism and misogyny several times in his
banter.
It
is hard to sympathise with Blaney, a sullen, sponging, fractious, bitter and
rude malcontent: Hitchcock wanted to portray him as a perennial loser. In
Hitchcock’s other innocent-man-accused films we root for the characters not
just because of their innocence but because of their charm. Even in Hitchcock’s
most dour film, The Wrong Man (1956), a film of almost Bressonian
austerity, the protagonist, played by Henry Fonda, is decent, and a loving
husband.
Hitchcock
had recently seen Jon Finch as the intense lead in Polanski’s Macbeth (1971),
still the best Shakespeare on film. But he didn’t like him. Or at least he
pretended not to: his constant cold-shouldering of the actor on set seriously
affected Finch’s mood during filming, and made his performance edgier, moodier,
more frustrated.
Blaney
is unaware that Rusk is one of his wife’s would-be-clients: Rusk wants her to
find him a woman with ‘certain peculiarities,’ by which we’re meant to
understand a taste for masochism. She refuses to help him. He rapes and murders
her in his office after pleading is case. The scene lasts for a gruelling
twelve minutes. Stylistically it was departure for Hitchcock in his depiction
of murder, lacking all legerdemain, filmed in real time, without music,
without ostentatious cuts. It is in no way, thrilling, is entirely anerotic. It
is disgusting. Increasingly menacing dialogue presages the violence; a queasy
apprehension of fear, predatoriness and impending savagery is achieved with
dolly zooms. The increased freedoms from censorship allowed Hitchcock to depict
violence towards women in its repellent, pathetic squalor, to become not a
pseudo-pornographer but a severe, despairing moralist. Rusk picks up Brenda ‘s
half-eaten apple after he has killed her and casually takes a bite, his dessert.
(Rusk eats after both murders in the film and is constantly seen snacking and
handling food.) The scene is Ackermanesque – if it had been shot by a woman it
would have been hailed as proto-feminist.
Original Japanese poster.
The
final shot of this sobering scene, Branda Blaney’s goggle-eyed death stare, and
swollen, grossly protruding tongue, has been described as ‘cartoonish’, but in
fact is a highly realistic depiction of the face of a strangled-to-death human.
Hitchcock was a connoisseur of corpses and the grotesque attitudes of death. In
1945 he was recruited to oversee the editing and appointed Supervising Director
of a documentary made from footage of the Nazi concentration camps shot by
Allied and Soviet troops called German Concentration Camps: Factual Survey
(it was not shown until 1984, released under the title Memory of the Camps,
with a later version that included an omitted sixth reel released in 2014). Hitchcock
sat through four hours of some of the most distressing images ever filmed and
was traumatised by it, staying away from the studio for a week and refusing to
watch any of it a second time.
As we all know, Fred Astaire’s
amazing, God-given dancing talent made him a Golden Age movie star. As a matter
of fact, numerous times, he has been called the greatest dancer in film
history. Although Astaire was also an accomplished actor, singer and
choreographer, he will forever be remembered as a top-notch, innovative dancer.
He made 31 musical features; some of his best being Holiday Inn, Easter Parade, The Band Wagon, Funny Face and, of
course, the many films he made with the lovely and equally talented Ginger
Rogers. (The Gay Divorcee, Top Hat, Swing
Time, Shall We Dance, etc.) If
you’re a fan of this legendary Hollywood icon, you will be happy to know that,
although not a musical, Midas Run, a
film Fred Astaire made near the end of his long and illustrious career, has been
released on Blu-ray.
Written by Ronald Austin, James
Buchanan and Berne Giler, and directed by Alf Kjellin, Midas Run tells the entertaining story of a retired secret service
agent named Pedley (Fred Astaire) who hires writer Mike Warden (Richard Crenna)
and Mike’s girlfriend Sylvia Giroux (Anne Heywood) to help him steal
$15,000,000 in gold. However, the clever Pedley may have something even bigger
planned.
Made for only $1.1 million, Midas Run was shot in London, Venice,
Milan, Tuscany and Rome and was released in April of 1969. The lighthearted production
not only contains fun performances from Crenna, Heywood and Astaire, but also
features several highly talented and recognizable faces from classic cinema such
as Sir Ralph Richardson, Cesar Romero, Adolfo Celi, Jacques Sernas and Roddy
McDowall. Midas Run also benefits from
a wonderful musical score by immortal composer Elmer Bernstein and a title song
written by Don Black and sung by Anne Heywood.
It may not ever appear on a “best of” Fred
Astaire film list, but Midas Run is still
an extremely well-made, engaging and fun movie that is sure to make you smile.
Midas
Run has been released on Blu-ray by the fine folks at Kino Lorber. The film,
which looks terrific, is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The
disc contains a very informative audio commentary by film historians Lee Gambin
and Emma Westwood as well as the original theatrical trailer. There are also
trailers for Robbery, The High
Commissioner, Cop-out and Street
People.
Film
director Paul W.S. Anderson, not to be confused with film directors Paul Thomas
Anderson or Wes Anderson, hails from Wallsend, North Tyneside, England and,
like so many of his contemporaries, began shooting movies on Super-8mm in his
youth. In his mid-twenties, he enjoyed professional success as a writer on the British
series El C.I.D. Following the end of the show, he and producer Jeremy
Bolt founded their own company, Impact Pictures and, after much toil, financed Shopping,
which was released in the United Kingdom in 1994 and in the States in 1996. This
put them on the map and brought him Mortal Kombat in 1995, a film based
upon the popular video game of the same name. This led to the sci-fi/horror
film Event Horizon, which is now available on 4K UHD Blu-ray, and it’s
this film that I discussed with Mr. Anderson recently while he was promoting
the release.
Todd Garbarini: I want to thank you for taking the
time to speak with me and thank you also for the Resident Evil films. I
enjoy those very much.
Paul W.S. Anderson: Me, too!
TG: How did you first see Ridley Scott’s Alien and what
was the effect that it had on you?
PWSA: I saw
[Sir] Ridley’s Alien when I was at school, and I saw it when I was far
too young, and it terrified the living daylights out of me. I also had a real
crush on Sigourney Weaver. So, it was a big, big impact. I had never seen a
movie like it. I mean it was amazing, and the look of the alien and the alien
spaceship, which I later realized was the work of [Swiss artist H.R.] Giger,
was just spectacular. It was really like nothing I’d ever seen in cinemas
before.
TG: I feel
the exact same way. I was ten and-a-half years-old when Alien was
released here in the States, two years to the day that Star Wars was
released here…in fact, the financial success of Star Wars bankrolled Alien…and
I was shocked to see that it was restricted to just adults! My parents would not
take me to see it. Kenner had produced toys, games and puzzles in the stores
based on the film. It took me another four years to see it on home video, but
the power of that movie came through tremendously, even on a six-year-old 13” Sylvania
television.
PWSA: I didn’t
see it with my parents either. Like you, I had loved Star Wars and I
thought, Wow, another space movie! Boy, was I wrong! (laughs)
TG: Was there one
particular film that, or filmmaker who, compelled you to become a director?
PWSA: I can
tell you that certain filmmakers have had a huge influence on me. Ridley Scott and
Tony Scott in particular because I love their movies. I love the look of their
movies and what their movies are about and how they are put together. They came
from the same part of the Northeast of England as I did. I never knew anyone in
the film industry, and no one made movies in the North of England. So, wanting
to be a film director when I was growing up seemed like an impossible dream. But
there were these two brothers who somehow managed to do it and they were very
inspiring to me because of that. They didn’t know anyone in the film industry
either. They built themselves from the ground up. I felt like I could do it as
well.
TG: You
derived inspiration from them.
PWSA: Exactly. Now, in terms of
wanting to become a filmmaker, I used to watch a lot of westerns when I was a little
kid. They used to have these things called “Saturday morning pictures” wherein
your parents would drop you off at a cinema that was full of about 350 kids without
any parental supervision. This would never happen today, and you would be there
for about four hours to basically run riot while your parents went and did some
shopping or went and had sex or did whatever they did on a Saturday afternoon without
the kids around. Most of the kids were running around throwing popcorn at one
another and beating each other up. I think I was one of the few kids who just
sat and watched the movies. They showed a couple of Laurel and Hardy shorts because
they were cheap and then some old westerns. I must have seen every John Ford western.
John Wayne was my favorite actor because I watched all these westerns with him
in them. I recall at the end of either The Searchers or Rio Bravo,
I saw his name in the credits as they rolled and I suddenly made the link that
he wasn’t a real cowboy, but rather an actor pretending to be a cowboy. Once I
realized that movies were not reality and just recorded by a cameraman, that
they were artifice, they were awesome and that’s what I wanted to do with my
life. I had no idea how I was going to achieve that. I just knew that that’s
what I wanted to do after seeing those amazing images on the big screen. That
was the inception of me wanting to make movies.
TG: Do you consider yourself to be a genre director?
PWSA: Yes, I
have worked almost exclusively in the sci-fi/horror genre. But like every
director in the world, I want to direct a western. No studio wants to make a
western, unfortunately, because they are just so uncommercial nowadays. I’m
about to make a movie called In the Lost Lands based on a story by author
George R.R. Martin [of Game of Thrones fame]. At its heart, it’s very
much a western as it has all the iconography that one would associate with a
western. It’s set in a post-apocalyptic land, so on the surface it’s not a
western, but at its heart it is most definitely a western. It deals with a lot
of western tropes and storytelling and imagery, so I am very excited to be
doing that.
TG: I
interviewed John Carpenter in 2010 and he is a big fan of westerns like yourself.
When he came out of film school in the early 1970s, he really wanted to make one,
but nobody was doing them in this country at the time. So, needless to say, he
was very disappointed.
PWSA: Yes,
but if you take a look at Assault on Precinct 13, the obvious influence
of westerns is in that film.
TG: Yes, absolutely. I love how that film was edited by “John
T. Chance” [the name of the sheriff that John Wayne plays in Rio Bravo]!
PWSG: Exactly! (laughs) And also people like Walter Hill, who was a big influence on me. I absolutely loved, loved The Driver
and 48 Hours. But specifically, what I really liked about Walter Hill
was when he was basically redoing the kind of Jean-Pierre Melville vibe of
those French gangster movies. So, they had imported the American movies, and
they did the French twist on them making them very existential, and then Walter
Hill kind of reimported them back into America and didn’t bother giving the
characters any names, which I absolutely love. So, for me Walter Hill is
somebody who pretty much, with every movie he makes, is a western. Ironically,
the films that work the least are actual westerns, but the ones that tend to
work the best are these urban movies that are really westerns in disguise. So,
I’m sort of hoping that it’s a “lightning strikes” moment for me when I do In
the Lost Lands. It’s basically my western, but nobody will realize it!
TG: Event Horizon pits
a lot of terrific actors in an ensemble piece, among them Sam Neill, Lawrence
Fishburne, Jason Isaacs, and Kathleen Quinlan. Were they your first choices for
their respective roles?
PWSA: Yes, it was a movie where I was
very lucky that the studio was kind of willing to go with my personal choices.
They never insisted that we absolutely had to have somebody who was a movie
star who carried very big movies before. They were on board for doing the ensemble
casting. I was very, very happy about it. It allowed me to get some really
terrific actors together, playing roles that they didn’t traditionally play as
well. Sam Neill at that point was very much in the minds of audiences as the heroic
guy who saved the children from the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. He was
up there with Tom Hanks as probably the actor whom the audience could trust the
most.
TG: Yes. I recall seeing Michael
Mann’s Collateral wherein Tom Cruise completely plays against type.
PWSA: Exactly. Sam Neill was still
sort of the guy who could look after your kids. So, the idea that he would be
the one who goes insane and tears his own eyes out, at that point in time it’s
probably the type of role that you would have expected Laurence Fishburne to
play. And then Fishburne playing sort of the heroic Captain as well, that was
not really a role that he had played before. So, both of them are amazing
performances but both of them were kind of stretching, but in a good way.
TG: Have
you ever seen Sam Neill in a film by Andrzej Zulawski called Possession?
PWSG: No, I
haven’t.
TG: It was shot
in the summer of 1980 in Germany and was released the following year
internationally. It made its way here to the States in a highly butchered
version in 1983, but it’s one of the most bizarre, cinematic experiences that I’ve
ever seen. You should catch up with it if you can. The uncut version is readily
available now.
PWSA: I will!
TG: What
are some of the challenges that you encountered in making Event Horizon
that you hadn’t foreseen?
PWSA: It was
just the compacted time that we had to actually make the film. That was a big
challenge. You know, I was young, and I hadn’t made many movies so I didn’t
really know what I was doing. I was up for a challenge at the time, but
nowadays I would probably say, “Hey, wait a second, I don’t know if that’s really
a good idea.” I had another movie to make right after Event Horizon and
it was with Kurt Russell [Soldier (1998)] with Warner Brothers, so I had
to finish Event Horizon on a certain date, so we had to start shooting
early. So, for such an elaborate movie with so many big builds, and really
complicated things, like the third containment being a real spinning, gyroscope
that was thirty-five feet high, I mean, this was really complicated stuff to do
in the time frame allotted. Then the production got even more compressed when Titanic
fell out of the summer and Paramount announced that Event Horizon would
be taking its place, and then suddenly I had only three to four weeks to
actually do my first cut of the movie before we started testing it. Those were
the logistical challenges. The actual making of the movie was just a delight. I
loved being with those actors on those sets. I didn’t even mind the challenges,
to be honest. Like I said, now I would think twice about doing certain things
in the movie, but back then I was just up for it.
TG: Thank
you for your time and best of luck to you with In the Lost Lands!
PWSA: Thank
you!
(Thanks to Deborah Annakin Peters for her help in arranging this interview.)
I’ve always been a fan of the heist/caper
film; a genre which details the planning, execution and aftermath of a huge
robbery. It’s an extremely fun and involving formula in which we oftentimes
sympathize with the thieves and want them to reach their goal. Some notable
heist/caper films are The Asphalt Jungle,
The Killing, Ocean’s 11, Bonnie and Clyde, The Thomas Crown Affair, The Italian
Job, The Getaway, The Sting, Dog Day Afternoon, Thief, A Fish Called Wanda, Reservoir Dogs, Heat and The Usual Suspects. Just to name a few.
Add to the list the comedy caper film A Man, a Woman, and a Bank available on
Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.
Solidly directed by Noel Black from a
humorous screenplay by Raynold Gideon, Bruce A. Evans and actor Stuart Margolin,
A Man, a Woman, and a Bank tells the
tale of friends Reese (Donald Sutherland) and Norman (Paul Mazursky), who
devise an elaborate plan to rob a bank in Vancouver. Things get a bit
complicated, however, when Reese falls in love with a pretty photographer
(Brooke Adams).
Released by Avco Embassy Pictures in
September of 1979, A Man, a Woman, and a
Bank is listed as the first and only film to be made by McNichol, a
production company said to have been created by actress Kristy McNichol and her
mother Carollyne. However, some believe this to be false and state that
McNichol is actually Donald Sutherland’s company. Whatever the case may be, A Man, a Woman, and a Bank is an extremely
enjoyable, well-directed, written and acted feature that definitely deserves to
be seen. The engaging story contains very interesting and likeable three-dimensional
characters. Reese is intelligent, confident, romantic and also a good friend.
The great Donald Sutherland effortlessly gets all this across and makes his
character totally believable. Five-time Academy Award nominee Paul Mazursky is
hilarious and extremely convincing as henpecked hypochondriac Norman, and the
lovely, talented and always welcome Brooke Adams (reuniting here with her Invasion of the Body Snatchers co-star,
Sutherland) shines as adorable photographer Stacey.
The fun feature also benefits from some
wonderful cinematography by the legendary Jack Cardiff and a terrific musical
score by Academy Award winning composer Bill Conti. All in all, it’s an
extremely solid and fun comedic crime film that audiences are sure to enjoy.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray presents the movie in its original 1.78:1
aspect ratio. The transfer looks beautiful and the disc also contains quite a
few worthy special features. There’s the original theatrical trailer as well as
two very interesting and informative audio commentaries; one by director Noel
Black and producer Peter Samuelson from 2002, and another by film historians
Dean Brandum and Andrew Nette. The Blu-ray also has trailers for four other
films featuring Donald Sutherland: The
Great Train Robbery, Ordeal by Innocence, The Rosary Murders and The Puppet Masters.
RRP: £86 (a more
reasonably-priced paperback will be available soon)
Review by Adrian
Smith
In a world where
every possible sexual proclivity and desire can be sated at the click of a mouse
button, the idea of pornography only being available at an illicit party in a
hired hall, where the gathered men watch black and white amateur footage
projected onto a wall whilst half-expecting to be raided by local law
enforcement, seems difficult to imagine. Yet according to this fascinating
study by historian Dan Erdman, this was indeed the situation for decades, from
the early days of cinema through to the 1950s when home projector ownership
finally meant that people could receive illegal pornography through the mail
and watch it in the privacy of their own homes. As things began to change in
the 1960s, individual film-viewing booths became available, where for a dime a
customer could get access to a few minutes of hardcore pornography. Ultimately
by the 1970s hardcore went mainstream and husbands and wives could go to the cinema
together for screenings of Deep Throat or Behind the Green Door
and the stag film fell out of fashion.
But just what is a
stag film, I hear you cry innocently? Erdman, drawing on his own research as
well as the writing of others, explains that they were short films, often made
by amateurs and usually shot on 8mm or 16mm film, in which hardcore sex acts
took place, they were anonymously made and presented, and undated. One would
have no idea whether the film you were watching was made last year or thirty
years ago. They were effectively “orphaned films”, in that no records were
kept, and no information was provided about who was in the films, who directed
and produced them, and who was even making all the prints. They were screened
at private parties, or “smokers” as they were sometimes described, which would
often be accompanied by live performances, but those in attendance were
constantly in fear of a police bust. As home projection became more
commercially available thousands of copies of stag films criss-crossed America
in the postal service, with enterprising distributors using carefully compiled
mailing lists and anonymous return addresses to target customers whilst
avoiding both the police and the FBI.
Here, in this
US-focused book, Dan Erdman attempts to chart the origins of the stag film, its
growth in popularity, the people behind the production and distribution, and the
many legal attempts to shut it all down. Given that the production,
distribution and screening of these short pornographic films was illegal, and
the films were generally considered ephemeral with no historical or cultural
value, it’s no surprise to learn that the people involved in this underground
world were not really keeping records or even copies of the films. The Kinsey
Institute appears to be the main archive currently available for seeing copies
of stag films but given that even if a film did have credits the names would
inevitably be fake, the job of trying to piece together a history is a
difficult one.
It is a surprise to
discover that the other main archive is the FBI, who kept thousands of seized
films and attempted to keep records of names, dates, and places, but sadly,
again given that the films had no perceived historical value, the films were
all destroyed long ago to save archival space. Luckily the written records
remain, and through drawing on these records, alongside the Kinsey Institute,
the President’s Commission on Obscenity and Pornography (funded in the late
1960s in an attempt to provide legislation, which ultimately concluded that the
constitution’s guarantee of freedom of speech trumped charges of obscenity and
paved the way for porn’s golden age), private archives and newspaper reports,
Erdman has managed to piece together what is surely the definitive history of
this elusive subject. He also provides an excellent case study in how one can
attempt to write a history of a subject when access to both primary and
secondary sources is severely limited, and as such it should be compulsory
reading for any serious historian researching in the margins of popular
culture.
This book gives
fascinating and non-judgemental insight into the secret world of the twentieth
century American male (the audience was always male) and may also provide some
nostalgia for a simpler time before pornography became a global billion-dollar
business, and modern mainstream culture became increasingly pornified.
If you follow current movie industry news then you know that the big bombshell this week was the decision by Warner Bros. to pull the plug on the much-anticipated "Batgirl" feature film. Even more shocking was the announcement that the studio would never show the film in any format. The film was mostly completed but directors Bilall Fallah and Adil El Arbi were still putting finishing touches on the production. Making matters worse, WB allegedly never informed anyone associated with the movie that it was being shelved until the New York Post broke the story. The movie is chockablock with talent: Leslie Grace, who plays the title role was prepping for a major career boost. The supporting cast includes Oscar winners J.K. Simmons as Commissioner Gordon and Michael Keaton, returning in the role of Batman for the first time in decades. Brendan Fraser, who plays the villain Firefly, was promoting the movie at a fan convention on stage when the news broke. Everyone associated with the movie is understandably stunned and outraged despite the fact that WB issued a statement saying that the decision in no way reflects on the creative team.
"Holy Ouch, Batman!" What caused this to happen?
Apparently, WB is on a cost-cutting mission and a rough cut of "Batgirl" had been test screened with poor results. (It allegedly averaged in the "30s" in terms of audience satisfaction.) WB says the film will cost $90 million but press reports say the cost could be $100 million. That's still a relatively modest sum for a modern superhero flick but WB obviously feels it should cut its losses, as today's major films cost tens of millions to publicize and market. Fans have pondered why the studio doesn't directly release it to streaming and home video. It's because there is a clause that says if a studio wants the benefit of a tax break covering the total production costs, it can't show the film anywhere or profit from it under any circumstances.
If history is any guide, "Batgirl" will eventually surface in some version on bootleg videos. However, that's a poor way to experience whatever vision the creators had in mind. A film isn't complete until its director (or directors) proclaim it as such. The studio is grappling with the public relations disaster and there will obviously be plenty of breaking news to come. In the meantime, we'll have to satiate ourselves with Yvonne Craig's charming portrayal of Batgirl in the classic TV series from the 1960s.
(The New York Post has run some behind the scenes photos from the production. Click here to view. For additional coverage, click here.)
Author
and film historian Dana Polan has
recently written a book titled Dreams of
Flight: ‘The Great Escape’ in American Film and Culture that analyzes
director John Sturges’ WWII classic. Cinema Retro Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer conducted this interview with
Polan regarding his book.
Q:Tell us about your book overall:
Dana Polan: Combining unique
archival research, close analysis, and first-person accounts by viewers, Dreams
of Flight traces multiple histories around the 1963 POW classic The
Great Escape: production history of the film itself but also the history of
the original event (an actual breakout in 1944 that led to the successful
escape of three men, recapture of seventy-three with fifty of those summarily
executed on Hitler’s orders), as well as the trajectory of POW Paul Brickhill’s
written account as it evolved into the bestselling page-turner book The
Great Escape. I also chronicle my own viewing history of the film, starting
as a Sixties adolescent, along with accounts by other viewers who also saw the
film around then and found that its blend of the buoyant and the downbeat
stayed with them over the years. I had long wanted to revisit the film, ever
since first seeing and being so strongly impacted by it. I feel so lucky to
have been given the chance to engage with the film in a book-length study that
could go into much detail about the film and its reception history.
Q:When and where did you first see the film?
DP: I wish I could be
more precise about the exact date but I started researching and writing the
book during Covid quarantine and that limited a wee bit of my research. I know
I saw it at my town’s one drive-in and it was likely about 1965 since that is
when we moved to the area. If so, I would have been 13 years old or so, and it
would have been a re-release. I’d have loved to track down microfilm copies of
the local newspaper to see the dates the film was playing and also to determine
if it was on a double-bill or not. The Great Escape is a long film but
our drive-in generally showed two films and I imagine would only have had one
presentation per night of the double-bill. Although The Great Escape was
not road-showed in its original release in 1963 — no symphonic overture over a
static opening title, no intermission, and so on — I persist in thinking there
was a break half-way through so viewers could be encouraged to go to the
concession stand. In fact, the film has a logical place for a pause just at the
halfway mark — when the first character we care about gets killed and the hitherto
individualist Hilts (Steve McQueen) declares his commitment to the collective
cause of escape. There’s a consequential fade-out and then fade-in as the POWs
resolutely return to their cause. If indeed the drive-in showed The Great
Escape on a double-bill, that would have made for a long evening, and the
intermission might have been essential for concession-stand sales.
An
amusing anecdotal detail: I was away for the weekend when the film opened at
the drive-in and my mom and stepdad went without me on Saturday evening
to see it. I had desperately been wanting to see it as, as I’ll explain in a
moment, it seemed to promise exactly that sort of action entertainment I loved
as a kid. When I got home by Sunday, I was so distraught that they hadn’t
waited that my stepdad ended up having to take me that evening and sat through
this long epic a second time in two days. He dozed off here or there while I
was enthralled by every moment of the film even as I ultimately found it very
disturbing.
Q:What impressed you most about it?
DP: Like, I imagine,
many young American boys of the time, I went to the film for the gungho promise
of its canonic poster, “The great adventure, the great entertainment, the great
escape.” Instead, I was blown away by a narrative that seemed to me to be a
deflation of adventure — a transformation of rousing entertainment into
something questioning and quite bleak.
The
Great Escape’s
downbeat turn from a fun romp into fatalism left a lasting impression on me. As
I write in Dreams of Flight, this unexpected narrative turn was a theme
I began to notice in other films of that historical moment — one that is
telling of American culture in the 1960s.
I
have always imagined that my experience of movies is not mine alone but is
likely representative of my demographic currents (gungho adolescent boy, in
this case) and may be shared strongly by others in the same demographic. At the
time, as I say, I was a pre-teen American boy who especially liked “manly”
action cinema and expected from the trailers and that iconic poster that The
Great Escape fit that mold. I know from other fan accounts that I tracked down
for the book that I was not alone in feeling something disturbing and
consequential was going on instead — in the film and in the times themselves.
In my research for Dreams of Flight, I reached out to other viewers who
first saw The Great Escape in the 1960s and found many had comparable
reactions.
(Photo: Courtesy of the author.)
Q:Where does it stand in relation to Sturges' other films?
DP: John Sturges made
over 40 films in a career that started with B-movies with a graduation to A-films
in the 1950s, some of which combined strong narrative drive with a degree of
artistic ambition — on the one hand, an entrapment drama like Bad Day at
Black Rock (Sturges’s one nomination for Best Director) where thematic
resonance (the topic of racial prejudice) is overlaid with taut suspense and
moments of explosive action; on the other hand, the pretention of literary adaptation
with, for example, the barebones Hemingwayesque allegory of The Old Man and
the Sea. Even though he was thought of most as a manly man’s director,
Sturges even did so-called women’s films, melodramas of love and emotional
turmoil, such as A Girl Named Tamiko or By Love Possessed. But
his forte was films of masculine fortitude and he found apt embodiment,
literally so, for the trials and travails of men under pressure in a visual
fascination with strong, sometimes stocky guys filmed as upright or coiled up bundles
of vitality just itching to burst out. For example, the first time we see James
Garner in The Great Escape (as Hendley, the forger), he’s filmed,
perhaps curiously, from a distance that not only cuts off his feet but hisneck and head as well so that the emphasis is on his torso, taut and
tough as he confronts the fact of incarceration. Throughout the film, there are
long pauses to paint a pent-up male energy that then passes over into scenes of
vibrant action. I suggest in my book that The Great Escape not merely
divides into three parts — planning of the escape, enactment of the escape, the
outcome (as noted, a generally bleak one with most of the men rounded up and
summarily executed) — but finds an overall distinct visual style for each of
these: from coiled up men constrained by the fences that surround the camp and
by the very confinement of the barracks they are walled up in, to the open
expanses of seeming freedom beyond the camp, and back again to the camp for
those POWs who are rounded up but escape execution (with the last shots showing
even greater confinement for Hilts, who once again merits his moniker, “The
Cooler King”).
For
me, The Great Escape shows Sturges at the pinnacle of his dramatic form,
although some fans prefer the tighter professionalism of The Magnificent
Seven. Later Sturges films have their moments but the pauses get longer
(and more talky as in the very sodden The Satan Bug) and the
professionalism turns into long scenes of planning for action that actually
defer that action (for example, the slowly unfolding Marooned and the
overblown Ice Station Zebra which keeps delaying a violent confrontation
that actually never comes for symphonically scored scenes of the submarine
crashing through the ice and men pushing buttons and yelling orders). I find
perfection to the pacing of The Great Escape: men talk out their plans
at length but the suspense never lets up and, as I argue in the book, Sturges
films dialogue scenes in a variety of forms (classic shot/reverse shot,
wide-screen confrontation between men, long takes with a moving camera, and so
on) that keep everything moving forward in thrilling fashion.
Actress Nichelle Nichols has passed away at age 89. She is best-remembered professionally for her role as Lt. Uhura on the "Star Trek" television series which began on NBC in 1966. The character was groundbreaking. It was the first time an African-American woman had been presented as a powerful character who was essential to the plot lines. In 1968, she shared a screen kiss with William Shatner's Captain Kirk and the moment was a momentous one for American television: the first romantic interracial kiss seen on a television show. Nichols would later relate that she became bored with the character and was considering quitting the series. She was talked out of it by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. , who impressed upon her that her character and presence on the show was an inspiration to young Black people as well as an important symbol of racial harmony. Nichols would go on to appear in the "Star Trek" feature films that derived from the original series. She was also a regular presence at fan conventions, where she related anecdotes about the series to appreciative admirers.
In his review of "Jack of Diamonds", New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther dismissed it as "strictly low-grade "Topkapi". The 1967 crime caper stars George Hamilton as handsome and inanimate as a mannequin found in the window of a posh 5th Avenue department store. At least no one can ever accuse him of putting the "ham" in "Hamilton". Hamilton plays Jeff Hill, the world's most notorious cat burglar. When we first see him, he's using a rope and pulley to enter the penthouse apartment of Zsa Zsa Gabor (!), who plays herself. While Zsa is sleeping, Hill manages to abscond with her valuable jewels- but, ever the gentleman, he leaves her a message telling her how much he enjoys her films (which means Hill has immaculate taste in jewels but not-so-great taste when it comes to the cinema.) Ms. Gabor is one of several real-life celebs who play themselves in the film. The others are Carroll Baker and Lili Palmer, each of who are victimized by the elegant, gentlemanly thief. The cameos are a pretty transparent gimmick to add a little more glamour to the production, which was produced by a West German film company and released theatrically in the USA by MGM.
Hill lives a Hefner-like lifestyle in a lavish mansion replete with all the trappings including a gymnasium complete with a trapeze that he uses to stay in shape so he can utilize his signature style of entering high buildings using the tactics of a human fly. We soon learn he has a mentor who goes by the name of "Ace" (Joseph Cotten), as he was once the world's greatest jewel thief and was known as "The Ace of Diamonds". He still acts as a wise sage for Hill, advising him on the dos and don'ts of certain potential capers. Hill soon finds that he has a competitor for some of the same jewels. Turns out it is a female cat burglar, Olga (Marie Laforet), who has her own mentor, Nicolai (Maurice Evans), a dapper dandy who also was once a famed jewel thief. Nicolai has concocted a plan for the ultimate theft and wants Olga and Hill to join forces to carry it out with he and Ace acting as advisers. This gives Hill plenty of time to make time with his new sexy partner but there is virtually no chemistry between Hamilton and Laforet, partly because her character is largely window dressing and is not fleshed out in the slightest in terms of being given a background. Nicolai's plan requires stealing some famed jewels from a seemingly impenetrable museum but just to learn their precise location it will require the cat burglars to break into a safe located in the headquarters of the Paris police. Achieving this daring goal, the foursome then turn to the main event: the robbery of the jewels. They are racing against time against an international police organization (presumably based on INTERPOL) that is doggedly trying to track them down and stop future robberies. The organization's point man is Von Schenk (Wolfgang Preiss), a charismatic German who pursues them with the zeal of Inspector Javert.
"Jack of Diamonds" is yet another film from the Sixties that looked anemic in its day but probably plays better now. The film tries to present some glamorous European locales but much of it is achieved through the over-used stock footage that MGM had in its vaults at the time. (A scene supposedly shot atop the Pan Am building in New York features what may be the worst rear screen projection effect I've ever seen.) Still, the offbeat feel of the film is somewhat enjoyable and the script allows a Bondian air in which the pursuer and the pursued match wits while enjoying each other's company and sharing fine cigars. George Hamilton makes for a strikingly handsome leading man even if he's a bit short in the charisma department. The real fun is watching old pros Cotten, Evans and Preiss trade barbs and witticisms. It's the kind of dialogue that is rare in contemporary thrillers. The caper aspects of the production are carried out adequately by director (and former actor) Don Taylor and if the entire enterprise stacks up as "Hitchcock Lite", it's an enjoyable romp throughout with nary a dull moment and a bizarre but infectious score by Bob Harris and Peter Thomas (bizarre because it is the only time you will ever seen a filmed ski chase that combines jazz music and yodeling.)
The Warner Archive has released the film as a region-free DVD title. There are some inconsistencies with the color quality but overall it's an acceptable print, though I suspect it may not be presented in its original aspect ratio. This version seems to be matted but I could be wrong. The DVD contains the original theatrical trailer.
“Way
down in the jungle deep, the lion stepped on the signifyin’ monkey’s feet.” Anyone
who is familiar with that poem’s first line, most likely heard it from
comedian/actor/singer, the late, great Rudy Ray Moore. Influenced by legendary
comedians Red Foxx and Richard Pryor, Moore, who worked nightclubs throughout
the 1960s, became popular through a series of hilarious and racy party albums
he released in the early 70s, some of which featured Rudy Ray as a character
named Dolemite; a sharply-dressed, supercool, humorous and loquacious, rhyming
pimp-poet whose incredible strength and expert martial arts ability are equaled
only by his sexual prowess. The albums and his live stand-up routine were so
popular that, in 1975, the charismatic Moore took all of his earnings and
decided to turn this larger-than-life urban hero into a kick-ass, comedic
movie.
Bad-ass pimp Dolemite (Rudy Ray Moore, Petey Wheatstraw, The Devil's Son-In-Law),
who was framed, incarcerated and had his club, The Total Experience, stolen
from him by his evil rival Willie Green (D’Urville Martin, Black Caesar), is released from prison and, with help from the FBI,
the loyal Queen Bee (Lady Reed, Disco
Godfather) and Dolemite’s all-girl army of Kung Fu killers, sets out to
bring Willie Green to justice and retake his rightful place as king of the
streets.
Co-written (with actor Jerry Jones who
appears in the film as an FBI agent) and produced by Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite was directed by D’Urville
Martin for the paltry sum of $100,000, but went on to gross $12 million. Rudy
Ray not only capitalized on the popularity of his own adult party albums and
the Dolemite character, but he smartly cashed in on the now legendary “Blaxploitation”
craze started by wonderful films such as Shaft
(1971), Super Fly (1972) and Three the Hard Way (1974) as well as
the Kung Fu phenomenon that was sweeping the country, mostly due to the
immortal Bruce Lee and his iconic 1973 film Enter
the Dragon in particular.
The entertaining Dolemite not only features plenty of comedy and very quotable
dialogue, but also, Kung Fu, adult language and liberal doses of sex and
violence; not to mention a great musical score by Arthur Wright (The Human Tornado, The Crying Game) and
the Filmore Street Soul Rebellion as well as a fun and memorable title song composed
and sung by Ben Taylor. It also contains loads of unintended laughs which,
along with Rudy Ray’s enjoyable ghetto poems, give the extremely low-budget
film much of its charm. Some wonderful examples of Dolemite’s unintentional hilarity are visible boom mics,
character’s talking over one another (“Flo!”),
wooden line deliveries (“Another
frame-up, hmm?”), a cop who attacks Dolemite and falls on his ass (no
second takes), a lip-synching nightclub singer who is way out of synch, Rudy
Ray almost falling asleep during a scene and D’Urville Martin saying to him, “Don’t get excited!”, and a character
named Creeper who is also known as the Hamburger Pimp and is played by a real-life
junkie (Vainus Rackstraw). Naturally, the film is also a fantastic early 70s
time capsule featuring funky fashions (the ginormous, furry hats are my
favorite) as well as wonderfully gaudy décor. For those who may turn their
noses up at the film, Dolemite and
the work of Rudy Ray Moore (who has rightly been dubbed “The Godfather of Rap”)
has gone on to influence many; most notably a plethora of Rap artists including
Snoop Dogg and the 2009 comedy classic Black
Dynamite.
Dolemite has been released on
Blu-ray/DVD by Vinegar Syndrome. The extremely fun film, which has been
restored in 2k from its 35mm negative, is presented in its original 1.85:1
aspect ratio and is extremely sharp and beautiful looking. We are also treated
to a lovingly included full frame version (the VHS version everyone’s used to)
which not only shows the boom mic in frame even more than the 1.85 version, but
sometimes the sound guy too. Special features include a very informative
making-of documentary by Elijah Drenner (That
Guy Dick Miller) which contains remembrances from many of Dolemite’s cast and crew including Rudy
Ray Moore, Jerry Jones and Ben Taylor; an entertaining interview with Lady
Reed; a “Locations: Then & Now” featurette and a very thorough audio
commentary by Rudy Ray’s biographer, Mark Jason Murray. Amongst many other
interesting things, he talks about Rudy’s early days in show business, how the
character of Dolemite came to be, the trials and tribulations that came with
making the film and Rudy Ray’s life after his amazing 1970s reign (interspersed
between Murray’s commentary are a few audio interviews with Rudy Ray, Jerry
Jones and martial arts champion Howard Jackson (who appears in the film).
Although cool and informative, some of these interviews are a bit muffled and
somewhat hard to fully hear). There are also trailers for Dolemite and its hilarious sequel The Human Tornado (also released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome)as well as a reversible sleeve with the
fun, eye-catching, original poster art. There’s also some cool new artwork,
too. Both images are also featured on the discs themselves. If you’re a fan of Dolemite, Rudy Ray Moore or the 1970s “Blaxploitation”
genre in general, this Blu-ray is a must have. Can you dig it?
David Warner in "The Omen" (1976).
(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)
By Lee Pfeiffer
Movie fans are mourning the loss of British actor David Warner at age 80. Warner was known for often playing quirky characters in major films. He began acting in movies in the early 1960s while also appearing in stage productions. He studied his craft at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. No specific cause of death was announced but his family confirmed he had been suffering from a "cancer-related illness" for the last 18 months. Warner rarely scored a leading role but had a distinguished career playing supporting roles in many high profile films.
His credits include "Titanic", "Morgan", the 2001 version of "Planet of the Apes", "In the Mouth of Madness", "Star Trek V: The Final Frontier", "Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country", "The Man with Two Brains", "Tron", "The Concorde: Airport '79", "The French Lieutenant's Woman", "The Island", "Cross of Iron", "Straw Dogs", "The Ballad of Cable Hogue", "Perfect Friday", "The Fixer" and "The Deadly Affair". In the 1979 film "Time After Time", Warner played Jack the Ripper, who manages to travel through time to the modern era. One of his best-remembered roles was as the photographer who assists Gregory Peck in attempting to thwart the satanic threat in "The Omen". His last screen appearance was in "Mary Poppins Returns" in 2018. For more, click here.
Actor Paul Sorvino has passed away from natural causes at age 83. Sorvino, a Brooklyn native, was a star of stage, screen and television and won plaudits in each medium. Less well-known was his singing abilities stemming from his early career ambition to become an opera star. Sorvino played a wide range of diverse roles but is generally associated with tough guy, street-wise characters in crime dramas including "Goodfellas", "Dick Tracy" and "The Rocketeer". He collaborated with Warren Beatty on four films and was one of the stars of the 1991-92 season of the hit TV series "Law & Order". For more about his life and career, click here.
In the scene above from Martin Scorsese's masterpiece "Goodfellas", Sorvino is the crime kingpin who thinks nothing of ordering people to be murdered but still adheres to the rule that among his gang members, family values must be practiced.
Producer/screenwriter/director Bob Rafelson passed away on Saturday, aged 89. Rafelson was one of the most prominent of the new generation of filmmakers who took Hollywood by storm in the mid-to-late 1960s. Along with his producing partner, the late Bert Schneider, he helped define a new wave of realistic movies that had special appeal to younger audiences. He was an Emmy-winner and Oscar nominee who co-created The Monkees and parlayed the success from the group's hit TV series and music into highly-praised feature films. He helped get "Easy Rider" brought to the screen, a film that made Jack Nicholson a major star. He and Nicholson would go on to collaborate on a total of seven movies. Rafelson often did not take screen credit but his films include "Five Easy Pieces", "The King of Marvin Gardens", "The Last Picture Show", "Hearts and Minds", "Stay Hungry", "The Postman Always Rings Twice", "Brubaker" and "Mountains of the Moon". He and Nicholson also wrote the screenplay for The Monkees' 1968 feature film satire "Head", which Rafelson also directed. For more, click here.
Director Franklin J. Schaffner was fresh off his Best Director Oscar triumph for Patton when he teamed with legendary producer Sam Spiegel for the historical epic Nicholas and Alexandra.
The film was an adaptation of a best-selling book by Robert K. Massie
that traced the tragic events leading to the assassination of Russia's
last czar, along with his entire family. With a screenplay by the
esteemed James Goldman (The Lion in Winter), the film had the
potential to be another Spiegel classic. After all, Spiegel had teamed
with director David Lean to produce two of the great cinematic
masterpieces: The Bridge on the River Kwai and Lawrence of Arabia. Despite
their mutual triumphs, Lean (like most people in the film industry)
came to loathe the gruff Spiegel, whose mercurial temper knew no bounds.
He would chastise gaffers and esteemed directors alike and Lean had had
enough. When he began production on his 1965 blockbuster Doctor Zhivago, Spiegel's
ego was bruised because Lean had teamed this time with producer Carlo
Ponti. If Lean had made a boxoffice smash out of the Russian Revolution,
Spiegel would prove he could do the same thing. Thus, Nicholas and Alexandra was
borne more out of revenge than inspiration. In addition to hiring
Schaffner for the project, Spiegel conspicuously brought two key members
of the Zhivago team with him: production designer John Box and
cinematographer Freddie Young. However, Spiegel's finances were not
adequate to afford the big name stars he had hoped to cast in the lead
roles. Thus, he was forced to cast relative unknowns from the British
stage: Michael Jayston and Janet Suzman. To give the film some boxoffice
allure, he cast a "Who's Who" of British acting royalty in supporting
roles, comprised of legendary established stars and up-and-comers. They
included Laurence Olivier, Michael Redgrave, Brian Cox, Ian Holm, Jack
Hawkins (whose part was dubbed due to the actor's recent throat
surgery), Harry Andrews, Tom Baker, John Wood, Roy Dotrice, Alexander
Knox, Eric Porter and Timothy West.
The story, steeped in historical accuracy, finds Nicholas
ill-prepared to serve as czar over a troubled Russia beset by
devastating economic conditions. With the majority of his people facing
starvation and a daily struggle to survive, Nicholas resides in palatial
splendor in Petersburg with his headstrong wife, Alexandra. Nicholas is
a good man in his own way. He cares about the peasants but lives in a
bubble that prevents him from relating to their day-to-lives. Born of
privilege, he knows no other life. The Romanovs have ruled Russia for
three hundred consecutive years and he sees no reason for the tradition
to stop with his dynasty. He is delighted when Alexandra presents him
with a male heir to the throne, but the boy is sickly and suffers from
life-threatening hemophilia. Still, it's a happy family with Nicholas
doting over his daughters and young son. He seems oblivious that there
is great resentment towards his wife, who manipulates his every move and
keeps him cut off from personal friends. He ignores warnings from his
ministers that he must tone down Alexandra's lavish spending habits,
especially during the poor economic climate. A protest by peasants in
1905 builds tension further when a mishap causes the army to fire on the
people, slaughtering hundreds of them. The seeds of revolution continue
to grow with the agitator Lenin leading the charge in hopes of
establishing a Bolshevik ruling party and deposing the czar. Nicholas'
ill-fated decision to enter WWI against Germany brings about
catastrophic results. Not only are his armies no match against the
Kaiser's but Alexandra is of German heritage, which further builds
public resentment against her. As Russian forces face devastating
defeats on the battlefields, revolution spreads quickly through the
country. Lenin's popularity grows, especially when he promises to make
immediate peace with Germany if he is given power. Before long, the czar
finds himself essentially powerless. He and his family are arrested but
he still believes they will live an idyllic and peaceful life in exile.
Instead, they are shunted between distant locations and housed in
barely-livable conditions as the new order debates their fate. As we all
know, it is a tragic one with Nicholas and his family abruptly shot to
death by an assassination squad.
These dramatic developments play out slowly but in an interesting
manner throughout the film's 183-minute running time. The performances
are all first rate, with Jayston especially good as the sympathetic (if
clueless) czar. Suzman is every bit his match as the egotistical
Alexandra and each member of the supporting cast provides a gem of a
performance, with Olivier and Harry Andrews especially impressive and
Tom Baker stealing the entire movie with his mesmerizing performance as
Rasputin, the crazed monk who had a Svengali-like influence over
Alexandra, much to her husband's disgust. Yet, despite those attributes
and a rich production design, the film never emotionally moves the
viewer as much as one would expect. The characters remain somewhat
opaque and the great historical events that affect them are only given
marginal background and explanation. Schaffner clearly wanted to
emphasize personal relationships over visual splendor and by and large
he succeeded. However, there is some emotional component missing here.
He crafted an impressive movie on many levels but one that perhaps did
not fulfill its ultimate potential. The movie was greeted with the
customary (some would say obligatory) Oscar nominations generally
accorded historical epics. It was nominated for 6 awards (including
nods for Best Picture and Actress) and won in two technical categories.
Nevertheless, overall critical response was mixed and the film was
considered a boxoffice disappointment. Schaffner would go on to make
three more impressive films (Papillon, Islands in the Stream and The Boys From Brazil)
and several flops before passing away in 1989 at age 69. Spiegel never
regained the mojo he once enjoyed in the industry. He would only make
two more relatively low-key films (The Last Tycoon, Betrayal) before he died in 1985 at age 84.
Nicholas and Alexandra may not be the classic Spiegel and
Schaffner had envisioned, but in this age of dumbed-down action movies,
it plays much better than it did upon its initial release in 1971. It's a
film that educates even as it entertains.
(The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)
When director William Friedkin's expensive adventure film "Sorcerer" opened in 1977, it died a quick death at the boxoffice. Like other films that met the same fate, however, it has been re-evaluated and - much to Friedkin's satisfaction- it is regarded by many as one of the great movies of its era. In this clip, critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel review the film on their show "At the Movies". As usual, they disagree, with Siskel stating he was not impressed by the movie while Ebert argues the film is terrific. Ebert also gripes that the studio botched the marketing campaign, while Siskel points out that the film's title implied it was relating to the supernatural. Thus, audiences were expecting something akin to Friedkin's previous film, "The Exorcist". In any event, "Sorcerer" has withstood the test of time and plays even better today in the CGI era when we can appreciate the days when special effects and great action scenes were achieved the hard way.
(For an exclusive interview with William Friedkin about the film, see Cinema Retro issue #29).
In
1981, United Artists released True
Confessions, a Robert Chartoff and Irwin Winkler production directed by Ulu
Grosbard. Robert De Niro and Robert Duvall star in the movie. It is about faith,
hope, repentance and salvation. It is also about greed, corruption, pornography
and murder.
The
setting is Los Angeles of 1948. This is the City of Angels as conceived by John
Gregory Dunne in his superb 1977 novel of the same title. Dunne was an
accomplished novelist as well as a literary critic and a notable writer of
non-fiction; his 1998 book, Monster:
Living Off the Big Screen, is an invaluable account of the trials and
tribulations of writing a screenplay in Hollywood. True Confessions is certainly his best novel and, together with
Joan Didion (aka Mrs. Dunne), he adapted it to the screen. Didion was an
equally fine novelist and was also known for her acerbic essays on California
culture; in 1972, Didion and Dunne wrote the screenplay for Didion’s acclaimed
1970 novel Play It as It Lays. The
screenplay for True Confessions naturally
condenses the novel, which was 341 pages in its first edition, and eliminates
many incidents as well as characters. Nevertheless, the movie still fully captures
the essence of the novel. Actually, the screenplay improves upon the novel in
one respect, possibly due to Didion’s involvement. Dunne seems to have written the
novel in part as a form of therapy regarding his Irish-Catholic upbringing; by
the novel’s midpoint, many of the characters seem to blend together as
hopeless, cynical sinners. The movie is less critical of its main characters
without softening the impact of the narrative. Significantly, the movie still
captures Dunne’s insightful portrait of post-war Los Angeles. This is a city in
which moral and spiritual decay flourish. And it is a city in which the
excessively brutal murder of a young woman symbolizes the depravity that
permeates every facet of its superficially glittering façade.
The
film, like the novel, uses the factual Black Dahlia murder case of 1947 as a catalyst
for the plot but it is primarily the story of the two Spellacy brothers and how
their relationship becomes entwined with the murder of the woman whom the press
calls “the virgin tramp.” Monsignor Desmond Spellacy (Robert De Niro) is an
ambitious priest in the Catholic Church who hopes to rise someday to the position
of cardinal even if it means neglecting his sacred vows. Detective Sergeant Tom
Spellacy (Robert Duvall) is an embittered detective in the Los Angeles Police Department
who is disgusted by the pervasive corruption and by the fact that he was once a
part of it. Both Des and Tom are dealing with guilt which accounts in part for
their strained relationship. Des has perhaps been repressing his guilt but as
the story progresses it will come to the surface and he will have to confront it.
Tom has lived with his guilt since he was a young vice cop and now sees an
opportunity to expiate it. When the dissected body of Lois Fazenda is found in
a vacant lot, it sets into motion a series of events that will involve both Tom
and Des. Tom is in charge of investigating the murder while Des has a
peripheral connection to the victim. Neither Tom nor Des initially realize it
but the murder will propel them on a collision course.
This
is a complex film and, as the story unfolds, it expands to include the
compromises that individuals in the Los Angeles Police Department and in the Catholic
Church must make to exist in a morally corrupt environment. Representative of
this corruption is Jack Amsterdam (Charles Durning), a wealthy construction magnate
and a respected member of the Catholic populace. Amsterdam also has a
disreputable past of which both Tom and Des are aware. Nevertheless, Des has a
history of awarding contracts for building projects within the diocese to Amsterdam
in return for financial savings for the Church. It infuriates Tom that Des
disregards Amsterdam’s unsavory past because of his wealth. However, Tom
doesn’t know that Des is on the verge of terminating the Church’s association
with Amsterdam. Des hopes to soften the jolt by awarding Amsterdam with a
ceremony honoring him as Catholic Layman of the Year. Meanwhile, Tom’s investigation
takes a surprising turn when Amsterdam’s name appears among the victim’s
acquaintances. This increases his determination to solve the crime, regardless
of how it may involve his brother.
Ulu
Grosbard initially achieved fame as a Broadway theater director. He received
two Tony nominations for Best Direction, in 1965 for Frank Gilroy’s The Subject Was Roses and in 1977 for
David Mamet’s American Buffalo. Regarding
his film career, some critics accused him of lacking an individual style as
well as an artistic approach to the medium of film that would distinguish his
movies. This may be due in part to the fact that, though his film career
spanned three decades, he only directed seven movies (compared to eight
Broadway plays), all of which are different in style and genre. He began his Hollywood
career as an assistant director in the early 1960s. His first directorial
credit was the film version of The
Subject Was Roses (1968), which proved that he was equally adept with film
as he was with the stage. He followed this with an interesting but pretentious
misfire, Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is
He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? (1971). However, his third film, Straight Time (1978), is another
underrated gem. True Confessions followed
and is undoubtedly his best film. He followed this with a modest romantic drama,
Falling in Love (1984), also with De
Niro.
Grosbard
distinctly demonstrates cinematic expertise with True Confessions. He imbues the moviewith a neo-noir atmosphere, though this may not be initially
apparent from the film’s beginning. The movie opens in 1962 as the elderly
Spellacy brothers reunite in a dilapidated church in the desert in Palm
Springs. This will lead to the flashback to 1948 and the main narrative which
begins with a wedding in an opulent church in Los Angeles. The stark difference
between the rundown church in the desert and the multi-million dollar cathedral
is readily apparent. Equally apparent is the difference between the humble
appearance of the elderly desert priest and the luxuriously attired young city
ecclesiastic, especially since they are the same person. The reason for this
transformation, which the public and the press labeled his disgraceful
downfall, is the heart of the story that follows.
Grosbard
directs the film in a restrained manner, excluding any flamboyance which might
distract from his emphasis on the characterizations of Des and Tom Spellacy. His
direction includes several memorable sequences. The restaurant scene begins
with Tom’s amusing response to an uppity maitre’d and ends with his angry
confrontation with Amsterdam in front of an embarrassed Des. The Catholic
Layman Award ceremony simmers with suppressed tension and climaxes with an even
more violent altercation between Tom and Amsterdam. The confessional scene in
which both Amsterdam and Tom furiously and unjustly lash out at Des instead of
one another bristles with unbounded rage while eliciting sympathy for the
beleaguered monsignor. And there are some quieter scenes which are notable for
their sensitivity to the characters. The diner scene in which Desmond tries to express
to Tom his regret for the course of his life reveals the latent tenderness
between the brothers, an emotion which both are unable to express. The
abandoned military base in which Tom discovers the sight of the murder is
shocking in its underlying anguish for the savagely-murdered victim. Even more
sorrowful is the scene in which Tom tries to console Lois Fazenda’s parents as
they remember her innocent childhood full of hopes and dreams. Through scenes
such as these, Grosbard gradually builds the emotional content of the story as
well as the tension until the explosive penultimate scene outside the
courthouse. The director received some criticism for the brevity of this scene,
for not showing Amsterdam’s comeuppance and for not filming a more dynamic
solution to the murder. But this would have distracted from his main theme
which is why he returns to the desert church for the highly poignant finale.
If you haven't caught up with Michael Caine as Harry Brown yet,
the fact that it is now streaming on Amazon Prime may will allow you to
do so. It's time well- spent. At an age where most thespians were
comfortably retired, Caine was not only still a viable leading man when
the film was made, but a viable leading man in action films. Harry Brown was
released in 2009 and generated decent reviews and business in the UK,
but it received a blink-and-you'll-miss-it run in the USA. The film
consciously (some might say pretentiously) strives to bring Caine back
to the turf of one of his greatest films: the gritty 1971 crime classic Get Carter.
This film isn't of that caliber, but it represented Caine's strongest
role in years. He plays a quiet pensioner eaking out an existence in a
London housing estate that is beset with violence and terrorized by
omnipresent street gangs. In the early part of the film, Harry's beloved
wife of many years dies from an illness. Then his best friend is
murdered by the thugs. You don't have to be the Amazing Kreskin to
predict what happens next. Caine takes it upon himself to avenge his
friend's death and utilizes his training as a Royal Marine (he fought in
Korea) to reawaken his savage instincts. Slowly and methodically, he
hunts down the main culprits and dispenses his own brand of justice.
If this sounds like a geriatric Death Wish, it most certainly
is. However, the film is very moving on certain levels, as we watch this
likeable man of peace's world crumble around him. His trail of
vengeance is presented logically and he doesn't become a superman in the
process. The film is ably directed by Daniel Barber, who makes the most
of the locations at London's notoriously dreary Heygate Estate, which
has since been demolished. Caine is aided by a fine
supporting cast, with Emily Mortner especially good as a detective who
is assigned to stop the vigilante killings. She suspects Caine is the
killer, but can't help sympathizing with him.
It's rare that the film industry affords an older actor a plumb role in an action film. Harry Brown may not be a classic, but it's good enough to rise above most contemporary action movies.
Having starred in the popular sitcom series The
Munsters from 1964 -1966, Herman (Fred Gwynne), Lily (Yvonne De Carlo), Grandpa
(Al Lewis), Eddie (Butch Patrick) and Marilyn (Debbie Watson) hit the big
screen in Munster, Go Home (1966).
Produced and co-written by series creators
Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher (Leave It to Beaver), this satire of American
suburban life features British comedians Terry-Thomas and Hermione Gingold,
legendary horror star John Carradine and future Family Feud host Richard Dawson,
who was then appearing on Hogan’s Heroes.
The Munsters achieved higher Nielsen ratings
than the similarly macabre family of the time The Addams Family. In 1965 it was
nominated for the Golden Globe Award for Best Television Series but lost to The
Rogues starring David Niven which was cancelled after one season.
After 70 episodes, The Munsters was also
cancelled after ratings dropped due to competition from the Batman TV Series.
The film was produced immediately after the television series completed filming.
It starred the original cast (Fred
Gwynne, Yvonne De Carlo, Al Lewis, Butch Patrick) apart from Marilyn, who was
played by Debbie Watson, replacing Pat Priest from the series.
The movie was released in Technicolor,
whereas the TV series was telecast in black & white. The hope was that the
film would introduce the series to the world in advance of negotiating future
syndication rights. The film was released in the United Kingdom at the end of
December 1966 as support for the Norman Wisdom movie Press for Time (1966). The
instrumental theme song, titled The Munsters' Theme, was composed by
composer/arranger Jack Marshall and was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1965.
The story sees Herman becoming Lord Munster
after he inherits an estate from an English uncle. With Spot guarding 1313
Mockingbird Lane, Herman leaves his job at Gateman, Goodbury & Graves
Morticians for Munster Hall in England. Whilst there, he uncovers a counterfeiting
ring and upholds the family honour by driving his Drag-u-la special in the
annual road race.
The move from the TV screen to the cinema
screen is often a gamble. The transition is tricky, with the chief obstacle finding
a story interesting enough to fill a 90-minute slot while at the same time
sustaining the audience’s attention can be tough. However, the central problem
with Munster, Go Home! is that it just really isn’t that funny. The shifting
dimensions between TV and cinema so often adjust the overall dynamics. The
absence and familiarity of a laughter track almost leaves a cold, empty feel to
the movie. Whilst The Munsters (shot at Universal City) was never filmed in
front of a live studio audience, it was overdubbed with ‘canned laughter’ or a
laughter track, an element that at least helped cue up or support a punchline
or a comedic line of dialogue. As a result, something just seems to be lost in
the movie version. Even the support from Terry-Thomas as English ancestor
Freddie Munster is really over-the-top and at times borders on embarrassing. At just 96- minutes, it’s all really hard
work.
Nevertheless, it’s not all bad. On the
technical side, the production values work very well. Creepy dungeons, gothic
mansions et al – create the perfect setting and atmosphere to satisfy every
horror kid’s dream. The film is also presented in its original theatrical
1.85:1 ratio. But the real winner here
is the Technicolor photography; the process simply elevates everything on
display. It’s a distinctly ‘groovy’ 60’s colour pallet with all of its vibrant
lime greens, luminous pinks and rich reds’ really igniting the screen and it
comes through as the film’s overall saving grace.
Considering the film (and the series it was
based upon) was so culturally significant, the Blu-ray’s extras are decidedly
thin, consisting of just a lone theatrical trailer. It’s a real pity that some
film or horror historian couldn’t be found to sit in and provide some sort of
commentary – especially as the whole franchise had loose connections and is
distantly related to the whole Universal Horror cycle…
Munster, Go Home! is released on July 25th
2022 as a Region 2 Blu-ray and is available from www.fabulousfilms.com
(Darren Allison is the Soundtracks Editor for Cinema Retro)
