I reviewed the Universal print-on-demand DVD of “The
Mississippi Gambler” (1953) for Cinema Retro eight years ago. I didn’t give the
film, starring Tyrone Power, Julia Adams, and Piper Laurie, very high marks.
Now Kino Lorber has released it anew on Blu-Ray. Aside from an audio commentary
by film historian Toby Roan, and better color because it’s Blu-Ray, it’s
basically the same experience. I can’t think of much new to say about it, so
here’s some of what I wrote back when, along with some final thoughts on the
current state of the home video market.
Here’s the original review I wrote 8 years ago:
I watched The Mississippi Gambler (1953) DVD from Universal
while recovering from a root canal, hoping a good rousing Tyrone Power flick
and three fingers of Kentucky bourbon, would cure my pain. Boy, was I wrong.
Watching this slow, soap opera-ish movie, with a cast of characters that belong
in an old Carol Burnett Show sketch, was like having the root canal all over
again. Admittedly, the Technicolor was good, and Julie Adams was great (which
she always was) but the script by Seton Miller was a complete turnoff with one
of the worst endings I've ever seen. The characters were mostly boring and
despicable. The plot was ham-fisted melodrama served with a mint julep.
Direction by Rudolph Mate’ was lethargic and unimaginative.
Basically, it's one of those stories about four people
all in love with the wrong person. But Miller added some very weird touches to
the familiar story line. Piper Laurie plays Angelique Dureau, a snooty,
neurotic iceberg who is way too close to her brother Laurent (John Baer) for
comfort. She uses him as a shield against intimacy with any other man, as
Tyrone Power, playing the titular gambler Mark Fallon, explains to her. For no
comprehensible reason at all, other than the plot demands it, Fallon falls
madly in love with her. Why? She's a pouty, petulant, porcelain imitation of a
woman.
Her brother, Laurent, is a miserable weasel, a man with
no honor and thus a perfect foil for the upright and honorable Fallon, who is
not only good with a deck of cards, he's also the son of one of New York's
finest fencing masters. (Zorro rides again!). The three of them meet on a
Mississippi riverboat named The Sultana. Pardon a digression while I note that
this was the same paddle boat on which Yancy Derringer, a few years later,
would ply his poker skills in the CBS television series starring Jock Mahoney.
Fallon's goal is to run an honest gambling table and
eventually open his own casino. He teams up with Kansas John Polly (John
McIntyre), a seasoned veteran of many a three card Monty game. In a game of
poker, Laurent loses his sister's diamond necklace to Fallon. Fallon tries to
give it back to her later, but she pretends she told her brother to wager it.
In the next scene she confronts the weasel and cries, "How could you do it
without asking me?" This obviously gets the star-crossed- lovers off on the
wrong foot. Fallon wins big that night but he and Polly barely escape being
killed by a gang of crooked gamblers and have to jump off the boat when the
captain gets near the riverbank. They walk to New Orleans, after losing all
their winnings in the river. But they have a good laugh about it.
At about the second act mark,enter Julie Adams (billed
here as "Julia Adams") as Ann Conant. She's the member of another
weird brother/sister duo. Her brother, Julian (Dennis Weaver, believe it or
not, with a sort of New York high society accent) sits down to play with
Fallon, saying he heard he played an honest game. He quickly loses every cent
he brought with him, then goes out on deck and shoots himself. The Captain and
Fallon discover he has a sister on board, and Fallon feels responsible and
wants to help her. She says he must have gambled away the money his company
gave him to take to New Orleans. Fallon, noble fellow that he is, lies and says
no he gave that money to the captain for safe keeping. He takes Ann to New
Orleans where and sets her up in a hotel. It complicates his plans to romance
Angelique but what's a story without complications.?
Meantime in New Orleans he runs into fencing expert
Edmund Dureau (Paul Cavanaugh) and guess what? He turns out to be Angelique and
Laurent's father! Of course, he invites Fallon to his home where he meets them
again. In one of the lamest scenes in the whole film, when they have a moment
alone, he tells her that he knows he and she are in love with each other and
always will be. "I could have you thrown out of this house for speaking to
me like that,” she exhorts. He replies, "You don't have to run me out. I'm
leaving tomorrow." And he adds: "You’re not ready for marriage. And
you won't be until the day you come to me." She calls him an egotistical
cad. And here's the punchline. "Yes", Fallon says, "I suppose it
sounds that way. But it's the only way a woman can be truly happy with a
man".
What? Did women in the 50’s really buy this tripe? Can
you imagine George Clooney trying that line on Catherine Zeta-Jones, or
Catherine Heigel? He'd get his ass kicked. I won't go on with any more of the
plot, but you can be sure it involves some fencing and a duel with pistols at
the Dueling Oaks. Funny thing about Power's fencing scene with Paul Cavanaugh.
Both men wore fencing masks through the entire scene, which makes me wonder if
either one did any of the fancy sword work, even though Power was in reality a
very good fencer. In another fight scene between Fallon and Laurent on the riverboat,
it is so obviously two badly matched stuntmen carrying the action. Power was
only 39 when he filmed “The Mississippi Gambler,” but he looked older and a bit
tired. Maybe he wanted to take it easy. He'd made many great films by then but
would only live five more years. He'd make seven more films in that time, all
better than “The Mississippi Gambler,” including “The Sun Also Rises,” and
“King of the Khyber Rifles.”
Nevertheless “The Mississippi Gambler” was a big
financial success. Lucky for Power, because his wife, Linda Christian divorced
him after losing out to Piper Laurie for the part of Angelique. She never
forgave Power for not getting her the part, and also, allegedly, for having an
affair with Anita Ekberg, who played an uncredited part as a maid of honor at
Angelique's wedding to another of her suitors.
. . . So that’s the review I wrote 8 years ago. The new
Blu-ray release, as noted earlier, contains nothing new except a commentary by
Toby Roan. Frankly, even Roan’s commentary doesn’t warrant spending the money
for the new edition. His comments merely consist of providing biographical info
on each and every actor, no matter how insignificant his role. Oh, look, here’s
John McIntyre. He was a regular on the Naked City TV series. There’s Paul Cavanaugh,
he was in a Tarzan movie. And that’s Guy Williams who played Zorro on TV. And
on and on and on. I turned the commentary off after half an hour.
The home video market is disappearing before our eyes.
Streaming has become the consumer’s first choice for watching movies at home.
Go into Target or Best Buy and what used to be row after row of DVDs for sale
has shrunk down to a few shelves, hidden behind the flat screen TV display
area. If companies like Kino Lorber hope to stay in business they have to
provide extras that aren’t available through the streaming platforms to make it
worth their while. So any of these commentary tracks are very welcome, even if
this one falls short.
When it comes to Kino Lorber’s “The Mississippi Gambler,”
as I said in the original write up, I'd rather put on a Yancy Derringer DVD and
watch him at the poker table with Pahoo Ka Te Wah standing behind him with his
shotgun hidden under his poncho, ready for action as the Sultana winds its way
down the Big Muddy. Rollin’ down the river.
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.)
There's an old Hollywood adage about the young starlet who was naive enough to think she could get to the top by sleeping with a writer. Indeed, writers are the primary reasons movies get made. Without a viable script, there would be nothing to shoot. Yet, screenwriters have routinely griped about how they feel they are left at the altar once filming begins. In fact, unless there is a specific need to have the writer on the set, most producers and directors would prefer that they remain removed from the filming process, probably because they might object to spontaneous changes made to the script. In "Sweet Liberty", Alan Alda's 1986 comedy that he starred in as well as wrote and directed, he plays a writer who finds himself in this dilemma. He plays Michael Burgess, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author of a historical account of important events that transpired in a North Carolina community during the American Revolution. He's delighted when a Hollywood studio buys the rights to his book (titled "Sweet Liberty") and plans to adapt it into a major film with big stars. Burgess's enthusiasm is short-lived, however, once the army of actors and technicians arrive to set up headquarters in the small town. The locals are understandably thrilled but when Burgess meets with the screenwriter, Stanley Gould (Bob Hoskins), he finds him to be a crude and unsophisticated character who would be right at home in a Scorsese crime movie. Burgess is appalled to find that Stanley has taken many historical liberties with "Sweet Liberty" at the behest of the studio bosses, who are only interested in morphing dramatic real-life events into a romantic comedy with plenty of T&A. Burgess's gripes are dismissed by the director (Saul Rubinek), who also views the production as just a pay check. He appeals to the film's star, matinee idol Elliott James (Michael Caine), but finds him to be a towel-snapping prankster with no regard for the historical accuracy of the character he is playing. Ultimately, he has a breakthrough with the more thoughtful leading lady, Faith Healy (Michelle Pfeiffer), who seems to understand the importance of bringing her character to the screen in a realistic and accurate way. This leads to some romantic encounters between Burgess and Faith, a situation that poses problems for his relationship with steady girlfriend Gretchen Carlsen (Lisa Hilboldt), who exacts her own form of revenge.
Alda's marvelous screenplay keeps in his usual pattern of writing comedies that avoid shooting for big belly laughs and concentrate on being mildly amusing throughout. As good as Alda is as an actor, he's equally impressive as a director and screenwriter, despite the fact that his "triple-threat" film ventures only resulted in a couple of boxoffice hits. Here he has assembled a wonderful cast and he gets the best of out every actor, including legendary Lillian Gish, the silent era film star who was still going strong in 1986. She appears in an admittedly superfluous subplot that seems written to simply squeeze her into the movie, but it's a joy to see her on screen this late in her career. Michelle Pfeiffer is well-cast as the seemingly vacuous diva who Burgess might be able to reach on an emotional level and Bob Hoskins is delightfully funny as the rough-around-the-edges but affable screenwriter who seems to have been chosen for the job simply because he's a reliable hack. I was also highly impressed by the performance of Lisa Hilboldt as Burgess's long-time girlfriend. Hilboldt has a terrific comedic timing and lights up the screen in her every appearance. It's surprising she never achieved major stardom. The key scene-stealer is Michael Caine, who plays a variation of Peter O'Toole's immortal Alan Swan character from "My Favorite Year". As Elliott James, he makes local women swoon and he uses this skill to seduce a local rich southern belle (Lois Chiles, in a rare comedic role) as well as any other woman who crosses his path. Elliott is reckless, self-centered and egotistical but he's also an irresistible charmer. A highlight of the film finds Elliott and Burgess engaged in an amusing fencing match that must have taken eons for both Caine and Alda to learn to perform.
"Sweet Liberty" is low-key comedy but a thoroughly amusing one. The Kino Lorber release has a typically impressive transfer. There is also a commentary track by film industry veterans and historians Daniel Kremer and Nat Segaloff that is very interesting and engaging, as they dispense informative facts about the production as well as Hollywood lore in general. There is also the theatrical trailer and a gallery of trailers for other KL releases. Highly recommended.
In my review of Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release of the 1979 disaster film "Meteor", I observed that the disaster movie genre had peaked with the release of Irwin Allen's "The Towering Inferno" in 1974. Yet, that didn't stop studios from beating a dead horse in an attempt to squeeze some more juice out of the tried-and-true formula of gathering an all-star cast, then figuring out ways to drown, bury or incinerate the characters portrayed on screen. One of the more obscure attempts to keep the disaster film cycle relevant was "Avalanche", a movie produced by Roger Corman and directed and scripted by one of his proteges, Corey Allen, who would go on to establish a respectable career as a director of major television shows. When you approach a Corman production, you tend to give some special dispensation for certain cinematic sins that you wouldn't accord more mainstream productions. Corman, who happily embraces his legendary status as a man who made major profits from films with minor budgets, knew how to stretch the soup in the cinematic sense. Rarely armed with ample production funds, Corman cut corners whenever possible but still managed to retain a certain elegance to his productions. In 1978, he jumped on the fading disaster movie bandwagon with "Avalanche". He hired Rock Hudson as the leading man because Hudson, at this point in his career, realized that he was no longer a hot commodity as a boxoffice draw in feature films (although he did successfully transition to a popular presence on television.) Corman also cast Mia Farrow and respected supporting actor Robert Forster for additional name recognition. He secured permission to film at a major ski resort in Durango, Colorado and out-sourced the special effects work to a company called Excelsior!
The film follows the general formula of the disaster film genre in that the victims-to-be are gathered for a major social occasion, unaware that nature is working overtime to thwart their fun. Rock Hudson plays David Shelby, an arrogant developer who has invested his life savings to build a vacation paradise in the Rocky Mountains. He has disdain for local environmentalists who have warned him that his destruction of an an abundance of trees on his massive property has removed a natural barrier to the inevitable avalanches that will occur. Shelby is preoccupied with his grand opening festivities and is simultaneously trying to woo back his ex-wife Caroline (Mia Farrow), who is attending as his guest. He's also busy trying to entertain his sassy, wise-cracking mother, Florence (Jeanette Nolan), who is being shepherded around the resort by David's major domo Henry McDade (Steve Franken in a rare dramatic role.) Meanwhile, local environmental activist and nature photographer Nick Thorne (Robert Forster) becomes increasingly concerned about the massive buildup of snow on the mountain peaks that are directly in line with the resort. He attempts to alleviate some of the danger by strategically using a snow cannon to set off controlled mini avalanches. Intermingled with all of this are the expected subplots involving minor characters who are set up to be inevitable victims. Barry Primus is a TV sports announcer who is broadcasting from the grand opening and who must contend with the fact that his estranged wife Tina (Cathey Paine) is on premises and rubbing his nose in it by blatantly carrying on an affair with egotistical super star skier Bruce Scott (Rick Moses). Scott, in turn, is rubbing Tina's nose in it by blatantly sleeping with another woman, thus causing Tina to go ballistic and consider suicide. Meanwhile, David Shelby finds time to unwind by spending some quality time in a hot tub with with his naked secretary (thus allowing Roger Corman to slip in a bit of T&A). Although the story seems set up to have the disastrous avalanche occur during the opening night festivities, screenwriter Allen throws the audience a curve ball by avoiding that cliche and saving the action for the following afternoon when, amid a particularly vicious snow mobile race, a small plane piloted by one of Shelby's employees encounters bad weather and slams into a nearby mountain, thus triggering the avalanche. This is where the movie progresses beyond cliches and becomes unexpectedly enjoyable. All of the standard disaster movie shtick is present, as both lovable and loathsome characters meet predictable fates, but the film's limited production resources somehow work in its favor. We're well aware that we're watching a Corman production but somehow the inventiveness that is required to carry it all off is quite admirable. Certain plot points are introduced and inexplicably abandoned including an insinuation that Shelby has bribed local political officials to overlook his clear violation of environmental protection rules in order to build his resort. This was one of Rock Hudson's final films as an "above the title" leading man. He's grayer and a bit paunchier than we'd seen him during his heyday, but he still had star power to spare and made for a dashing leading man, whether its skinny dipping in the hot tub or personally leading rescue parties in acts of derring doo to extricate victims of the tragedy. The film's showpiece sequence is a climactic scene in which Shelby must rescue Caroline, who is dangling from wrecked bridge above a ravine. It's well-directed and genuinely suspenseful.
It' easy to pick apart a film like "Avalanche", as it squarely fits into the "guilty pleasure" category. However, the film does a lot with very little as opposed to other misfires in this genre that did very little with a lot (aka "The Swarm"). The Kino Lorber Blu-ray edition features the original trailer and a "making of" featurette in which Roger Corman extols the virtues of the film. He admits the effects were rather shoddy and recalls his outrage when he discovered the SFX company had added "red snow". Corman hit the roof and it was changed to a bluish substance that he admits still looks pretty phony. Robert Forster recalls that the "snow" was actually little pieces of plastic that were strewn by the hundreds of thousands over the scenic landscape. He remembers his dismay at the realization that none of these bits were biodegradable and many must still be contaminating the landscape of the Durango ski resort where the movie was filmed. Corman makes the claim that the film was actually a major financial success. He says his budget was only $1.7 million and that a TV sale for $2 million netted him an immediate $300,000 profit. The tale sounds a bit fanciful because it seems hard to believe that even in 1978 you could make a movie like this with three relatively big names for only $1.7 million. (Other sources give unsubstantiated estimates of the budget at around $6 million, which seems more plausible.) "Avalanche" is not near the top of the heap of disaster movies but it certainly doesn't rank at the bottom of the pack, either. The Kino Lorber release has an impressive transfer and the inclusion of those bonus extras make this title highly recommended for fans of this genre.
Those of us who share the rather unusual- and sometimes bizarre-profession of reviewing films for a living all share a nasty little secret: there are countless classic movies that we haven't seen. I'm not alone in making this mea culpa. No less than the late, great Robert Osborne, whose insightful introductions on Turner Classic Movies helped launch that channel's success, once confided in me that even he could list numerous classic movies that he had yet to catch up with. When he confessed this to Lauren Bacall, she told him that she envied him because she wish she could recapture the sheer joy of seeing a great film for the first time. I've never seen the 1942 musical "Holiday Inn". I can't say why but perhaps it's because that as a boy growing up in the Sixties, such productions seemed quaint and unappealing when I had a celluloid tidal wave of WWII flicks, Westerns and Bond-inspired spy movies. After all, John Wayne and Steve McQueen never danced on film, so why bother watching anyone else do so? Thus, when I attended the Papermill Playhouse's stage production of the much-beloved Irving Berlin song fest, I was in the unique position of not being acquainted with the property at all. At the risk of invoking the names of Rodgers and Hammerstein, the corn is as high as an elephant's eye, to be sure. However, the Papermill has outdone itself in presenting the ultimate "feel good" production for the holiday season.
The story is as sappy and sentimental as I suspected when I was a kid, but with the passing of decades, I've warmed to sappy and sentimental musicals and "Holiday Inn" turns the old concept of "Hey, kids- we can put the show on in the barn!" into a slight variation that boils down to "Hey, kids- we can put the show on right here at the inn!". The story opens with a song and dance trio just finishing a successful engagement. They are Jim Hardy (Nicholas Rodriguez), his girlfriend and dance partner Lila Dixon (Paige Faure) and Ted Hanover (Jeff Kready). Backstage, Jim drops a bombshell by proposing to Lila and announcing that they can now leave show business and move to a farm he has just purchased sight unseen in rural Connecticut. Although Lila accepts the marriage proposal, she says she wants to continue the act on the road for another six months with Ted while Jim prepares the farm for her to move in following their marriage. Jim agrees but when he gets to the historic Mason Farm that he has purchased, he discovers he's been snookered. The place is run down and he is immediately served with demands to pay back taxes and assorted other staggering debts he didn't know existed. While he struggles to cope, he is visited by Linda Mason (Hayley Podschun), the previous owner the farm, which had been in her family for generations. Seems Linda couldn't afford the upkeep and had been evicted, thus allowing Jim to secure the place while in foreclosure. In a coincidence that only occurs in musicals of this type, she is attractive and has a talent for performing on stage, though she gave up her career to become a teacher when sufficient opportunities didn't appear for her to make a living in show business. Jim imposes on her to sing a bit and he recognizes she has star power. Meanwhile, Lila makes a surprise visit and confesses she is so caught up in her own thriving career that she is calling off the marriage and going back on the road with Ted. You don't have to be the kind of person who wears a deerstalker hat and smokes a pipe to detect what happens next: Jim falls head over heels for Linda and they devise a plan to transform the failing farm into a hotel that presents musical productions. The plan proves to be an immediate success, drawing crowds from far and wide but things unravel when Ted turns up and announces that Lila has kicked him to the curb and broken up their act when a millionaire proposed to her. Desperate to jump start his career, Ted worms his way into the inn's revue, in the process falling for Linda, who is clearly smitten by Ted's talents as well as he egotistical self-assurance which is in contrast to Jim's modest nature.
The well-oiled plot device of a city slicker finding himself hapless as a farmer must date back to the invention of celluloid but it persists because it's a genuinely funny one, as evidenced by films such as "The Egg and I", "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House", "The Money Pit" and the still amusing "Green Acres" 1960s TV series. The fish-out-water concept provides some genuine laughs but it is the wealth of Berlin songs that elevate "Holiday Inn" to a special status. Just consider all of these classic numbers in one show: "Heat Wave", "Blue Skies", "Happy Holiday", "Cheek to Cheek", "Easter Parade" and a little number called "White Christmas" that might actually catch on. All of them are superbly performed by a flawless and talented cast under the outstanding musical direction of Shawn Gough with equally impressive choreography by Denis Jones. Gordon Greenberg is the director of the overall production which practically had the enthusiastic audience dancing in the aisles. Kudos to costume designer Alejo Vietti for providing some eye-popping creations and especially to scene designer Anna Louizos, whose creative sets are not only impressive but are miraculously changed literally in the blink of an eye without the slightest interruption. The four leads in the show illustrate the Papermill's painstaking casting process pays off. Rodriguez, Podschun, Kready and Faure are delightful to watch throughout. Each of them has the ability to knock 'em dead during the musical numbers but they also deliver the witty bon mots in a style that ensures big laughs. There is also a spot-on supporting performance by Ann Harada as a local handywoman who finds plenty of work repairing Jim's dilapidated inn. The book has been tweaked a slight bit to make the dialogue more relevant for today's audiences but there are some quaint references to Connecticut as a dull, largely rural state, which gets big laughs from tri-state audiences who have suffered the endless traffic jams on the I-95 corridor.The film version was released in 1942 during the early days of WWII, which accounts for the sentimental success of "White Christmas", but for reasons unknown, the stage production takes place in 1946. A notorious blackface musical number in praise of Abraham Lincoln that appeared in the film has also been mercifully left out of the stage production.
The Papermill's presentation of "Holiday Inn" illustrates why the venue is the gold standard of regional playhouses. The show delighted the audience so much that even the rude nitwits that generally walk out before the show ends in order to get a head start on reaching the parking lot seemed transfixed by all the talent on stage and remained to join in the roaring standing ovation. It's the perfect holiday show and runs through December 30. Don't miss it.
Sir Roger Moore, the iconic British actor who swept to fame playing The Saint and James Bond, has passed away from cancer at age 89. Moore grew up in a middle class lifestyle in Lambeth during WW2 and was among the children evacuated from the city during the Blitz. He had planned a career as a cartoonist but his good looks and charismatic personality drew him first to modeling and then studying acting at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London. He found success early in his career and was placed for a time under contract with MGM in Hollywood. However stardom didn't follow immediately. Moore mostly appeared in soap opera stories opposite big stars but none of the films were very successful and was dismissed as just another pretty face. In the 1956 period costume drama "Diane", he was Lana Turner's leading man- but the film was a dud and one critic described Moore as "a lump of English roast beef", something he would joke about through the rest of his life. Moore left MGM and starred in "The Alaskans" TV series and was brought in to star in "Maverick", appearing in 16 episodes over a three year period. That lead to his starring as Simon Templar, the world class adventurer in the TV series "The Saint". The show ran for seven seasons and was a major international hit. Following that he also starred with Tony Curtis in the popular TV series "The Persuaders". When that show left the air Moore was hired to star as the third actor to play James Bond, following in the footsteps of Sean Connery and George Lazenby. Moore's first Bond film "Live and Let Die" in 1973 was an important one for the franchise. Had audiences not responded well to his interpretation of 007, the series might have ended. Moore decided not to imitate Connery but to provide his own unique interpretation of the role, emphasizing the humorous aspects. Audiences responded with enthusiasm and Moore would play the role in seven films over a twelve year period. He left the series after "A View to a Kill" in 1985.
Spy Guys: Michael Caine, Roger Moore and Sean Connery made a hilarious joint appearance at the 1989 Oscars.
During Moore's tenure as Bond he made numerous other feature films including the highly successful 1978 adventure movie "The Wild Geese". Other notable films include "ffolkes" (aka "North Sea Hijack"), "Shout at the Devil" and "Gold". In the 1981 blockbuster comedy "The Cannonball Run" he played an eccentric who thought he was Roger Moore. In his post-Bond career Moore occasionally made films or appeared on television but devoted much of his time as Goodwill Ambassador for UNICEF. In that capacity Moore traveled the globe raising countless millions of dollars to help impoverished children. He often said that it was his work for UNICEF that he was most proud of. His charitable work was an obvious factor in his being knighted in 2003. His good friends Sean Connery and Michael Caine, both of whom achieved significant career boosts by also playing spies in the 1960s, were on hand for the ceremony. In recent years Moore had traveled extensively to promote numerous books he has authored with his personal assistant Gareth Owen. Sir Roger and Owen also developed speaking tours in which they would discuss his long film career in casual chats on stage in front of appreciative audiences generally in capacity-filled theaters.
Prior to becoming an actor, Sir Roger worked as a model.
On a personal note we at Cinema Retro had the pleasure of knowing Sir Roger Moore very well. He was an early supporter of our magazine and even provided an endorsement below our banner head. He remained a contributor to our publication and was always there to provide an amusing story or anecdote. He was completely devoid of egotistical behavior and found self-deprecating humor to be his best weapon against criticism. He once told this writer that he learned early on that critics found it no fun to mock an actor who mocked himself. Sir Roger was also beloved by his fans. He always had time to chat with them or sign autographs. Sir Roger's passing represents a sad day for all who loved and admired him- but his legacy as an actor and humanitarian remains secure. He is survived by his wife Kristina and his children Deborah, Geoffrey and Christian.
His early film career started in a less pigeonholed
manner: as a budding movie actor with a seven year contract for Universal
Studios in the 1940s, the tall, elegant Price would appear in a number of semi-distinguished
if modestly-budgeted romantic comedies and dramas. His contract with Universal was apparently
non-exclusive, and his most memorable roles for the studio were his earliest. In a harbinger of things to come, Price would
register his first genre credit with Universal’s The Invisible Man Returns (1940),
a curiously belated semi-sequel to the James Whale 1933 classic. Though a satisfying B-movie vehicle, Price’s star
turn as the mostly transparent Geoffrey Radcliffe would be difficult work; it’s
an imposing task to make an impression when you’re only physically present for less
than half of a film.
More rewarding and noteworthy was his role as the
vengeful Clifford Pyncheon in Universal’s free adaptation of Nathaniel
Hawthorne’s brooding thriller The House of the Seven Gables (1940). That same year Price took a second memorable
turn as the effete, wine-imbibing Duke of Clarence in Rowland V. Lee’s Tower of
London. Purportedly a historical drama, Universal couldn’t help but play up the
horror-melodrama elements of Richard III’s grisly ascent to the British
throne. The scene when the Duke of
Clarence meets an ironic fate at the hands of the conniving, merciless and
bloodthirsty tag-team of Basil Rathbone and Boris Karloff is, without doubt, one
of cinema’s great exits.
Though the actor would tackle all types of roles for his
next employer, 20th Century Fox, he had begun his transition from leading man
once-removed to a roguish sort of character actor, one short of neither charm
nor avarice. In 1953 the actor’s career
would be forever changed when he accepted the role of the mad Professor Henry
Jarrod in House of Wax, Warner Bros.’ colorful 3-D remake of Michael Curtiz’s The
Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933). The
success of the sinister House of Wax inspired that film’s freelance producer,
Bryan Foy, to – essentially – remake the same film for Columbia Pictures within
a year’s time. Unlike Universal or
Warner Bros., Columbia seemed less eager to embrace and invest long-term in 3-D
technologies, and The Mad Magician was one of the studio’s final rolls of the
dice in that format.
Bryan Foy had began his show business career in
vaudeville so it was only natural that both House of Wax and The Mad Magician share
the greasepaint, steamer trunks, velvet curtains and theatrical back stories of
the producer’s youthful experience. As he
had with House of Wax, Foy again tapped the talent of his favorite scribe, Crane
Wilbur, to write what was essentially a House of Wax pastiche. Wilbur was a seasoned pro who could knock out
a quick copy that still had integrity; both of the Victorian-era horror films he
would craft for Foy stylishly unraveled in thrilling fashion with neat twists
and memorable dialogue. In a wise move,
the German born John Brahm, an undeniably brilliant director of moody,
atmospheric thrillers and melodramas – mostly for 20th Century Fox - was
brought on to direct.
The most notable returnee was, of course, Vincent Price,
now typecast and expected to again menacingly wield his distinct brand of on-screen
villainy. With his stagey, Shakespearean
acting style having been honed early in his career, Price’s performances occasionally
teetered between outright flamboyance and devilishly morose… perhaps even a bit
hammy. That said, the actor’s refined
mannerisms and theatrical gesturing was refreshingly different from the common
brutishness of the usual cinematic heavies. His characters tended to be tortured souls as well; his villains were conflicted
but not unsympathetic individuals driven to madness by life’s travails and treacheries.
In House of Wax and The Mad Magician, the actor similarly
plays the part of a maligned artist. In
both films, his protagonists hide behind a series life-masks created solely for
the purpose of deception. As sculptor Henry
Jarrod in the former film, the devoted artist sees his beloved wax figures go
up in flames due to the actions of an unscrupulous business partner; Jarrod’s
scheming, unsentimental associate is not at all interested in the artist’s
creations. He’s only interested in the
swift collection of ill-gotten monies from his insurance fraud scheme. In The Mad Magician Price similarly portrays Don
Gallico, a low wage, belittled designer of magic tricks and illusions. Gallico
is the creative energy behind successful owner Russ Orman’s (Donald Randolph) respected
theatrical magic factory Illusions, Inc. Tired of seeing his boss farm out his very personal creations to more celebrated,
famous magicians – most notably the egotistical and scheming Great Rinaldi
(John Emery) – Gallico optimistically and dreamingly pines of someday being
recognized as a great stage magician himself.
Gallico is certain that day is not far off. In an attempt to attract attention to his own
talent, the magician tests a self-produced illusionist show in a cozy theater
in Hoboken, New Jersey. This engagement
is merely a step stone to his ultimate dream of securing a coveted booking on
Broadway and 44th Street. While his most
recent and exciting illusion, “The Lady and the Buzz Saw,†pushes the envelope
of high tension to an anxious extreme, Gallico is certain his work in progress –
an escape-artist illusion involving a gas-fueled 3500 degree inferno dubbed
“The Crematorium†will be the vehicle to bring him stardom at last. But Gallico’s dreams are soon dashed when the
well-heeled Orman, who years earlier had unsentimentally stolen away the
illusionist’s gold-digging wife (Eva Gabor), informs him to carefully read the
fine print of their business contract. In
a nutshell, Orman owns all of Gallico’s intellectual properties: contractually his inventions are not his
own. Needless to say, this soul crushing,
career-ending turn of events does not bode well for the briefly self-satisfied
Orman… and others.
If
one facetiously counted the number of films Woody Allen made beginning in 1969
and throughout the 70s, there would be eight that he wrote and directed (seven
of which he also starred in), plus a movie that he only wrote and starred in—Play It Again, Sam, for which I’ll count
as 1/2, making Stardust Memories number
9-1/2. Appropriately, this film seems to intentionally pay homage to Federico
Fellini’s own masterwork, 8-1/2
(1963), which was about a filmmaker who didn’t know what movie he wanted to shoot
next. Stardust Memories, released in
1980 after the huge successes of Annie
Hall and Manhattan (with
critically-acclaimed Interiors in-between),
is also about a filmmaker in search
of the picture he wants to make.
It
wasn’t well-received at the time. I recall leaving the theater in anger. How
could Woody be so contemptuous of his audience? It was as if his character, the
rather egotistical and unlikable filmmaker Sandy Bates, hates his fans,
especially the ones who clamor for his “earlier, funnier moviesâ€â€”and of course
we couldn’t help but superimpose Sandy Bates with Woody Allen. And that’s where audiences misinterpreted the picture.
Bates is no more Allen than Marcello Mastroianni is Fellini in 8-1/2. While Allen (and Fellini) may
have infused their “alter-egos†with autobiographical aspects of themselves,
the characters were indeed fictional representations.
It’s
no secret that Allen often likes to mimic European filmmakers he admires—his
love of Ingmar Bergman is evident in several pictures. This time, with Memories, Allen does invoke Fellini and
that director’s signature stream-of-consciousness and non-linear storytelling
with flights of fantasy and surrealism. Filming in black and white for the
second time in a row, Allen, like Fellini, throws in outdoor circus scenes,
grotesque and freakish extras, radical editing techniques, and meandering love
affairs. Instead of coming off as mere imitation, though, Allen’s picture
succeeds on its own merits. It’s a challenging, highly intellectual piece of
cinema that must be viewed more than once to fully appreciate. Allen himself
has said that Stardust Memories is
one of his favorite films that he’s made. I’d place it in the upper third of
his by now numerous works.
The
story follows Sandy as he attempts to please his producers, the studio, the
fans, and himself—all the while haunted by the failed and tragic relationship
he had in the past with Dorrie (luminous Charlotte Rampling). Along the way
there are dalliances with other women (Jessica Harper and Marie-Christine
Barrault). The dream sequence at the opening of the film, in which Sandy is
trapped on a morbid, claustrophobic train from hell, while looking out at another train where inside there’s a
lively party going on (and young Sharon Stone blowing kisses at him through the
window), is one of Allen’s most memorable set pieces. The whimsical middle, in
which Sandy and Harper’s character escape a film festival to watch magic acts
in a field is pure effervescence. The jump cut close-ups of Rampling’s face
during a breakdown toward the film’s end is one of the most powerful sequences
Allen ever shot.
Then
there are the many familiar and unusual cameos that pop up—Tony Roberts,
Laraine Newman, Daniel Stern, Amy Wright, Brent Spiner, and even Allen’s ex-wife
and co-star Louise Lasser... Gordon Willis’ spectacular cinematography... Dick
Hyman’s wonderful adapted score of Cole Porter and other old-school tunes... it
all adds up. There is much to savor
in Stardust Memories.
Twilight
Time’s limited edition (only 3,000 units) Blu-ray sports a 1080p High
Definition picture that looks wonderful, along with a 1.0 DTS-HD Master Audio
soundtrack. The only supplements, sadly, are an isolated music score, a booklet with liner notes by Julie Kirgo and the
original theatrical trailer.
Stardust Memories was a divisive movie
for Allen fans, but time has been kind to it. Give it another go—you may be
surprised by how masterful and engaging it really is.
The
works of famed director Akira Kurosawa are mostly associated with the samurai
film—pictures set in the time of feudal Japan, and usually starring the
brilliant actor Toshiro Mifune (Rashomon,
Seven Samurai, Throne of Blood, The Hidden
Fortress, Yojimbo, among others).
However, Kurosawa made other kinds of movies that are probably not as well
known in the West except to film historians and true cinephiles—and fans of the
excellent DVD and Blu-ray label, The Criterion Collection. Some of Kurosawa’s
early work was made up of film noir gangster
and crime pictures (e.g., Drunken Angel,
Stray Dog, The Bad Sleep Well), but also, surprisingly, heartfelt social
dramas set in contemporary Japan—about ordinary people. Ikiru is one of the latter, and it’s a movie that Roger Ebert once
called Kurosawa’s “greatest film.â€
Ikiru is set in Tokyo in
the early fifties. Kanji Watanabe (played by the wonderful Takashi Shimura) is
a middle-aged bureaucrat in City Hall, the chief of “Public Works.†He has
spent the last thirty years behind a desk, stamping endless pieces of paper
with his little seal, never causing trouble, and pawning off problems to other
departments, which, in turn, direct them to yet more departments. Bureaucracy
at its dullest and most inefficient. At the beginning of the story, several
women bring in a complaint about a mosquito-infested cesspool in the middle of
their district that should be covered or turned into a park or whatever. But no
one at City Hall wants to accept the responsibility of doing anything about it,
including Watanabe, and even the egotistical mayor.
Contributing
to Watanabe’s stagnation are the attitudes of his grown son and his wife, who
live with him in the same house. All they’re waiting for is the inheritance
that will one day come their way (Watanabe’s wife is long dead). Then the
ultimate insult occurs—Watanabe discovers he has stomach cancer and has six
months to live. After the initial shock and depression, the news inspires him
to undergo a drastic change.
Watanabe
suddenly wants to make something of his life while there’s still time. He
befriends a young female subordinate and attempts to experience Tokyo’s
nightlife, but that doesn’t satisfy him. Finally, he embarks on taking it upon
himself to do something about that cesspool and turn it into a children’s
playground before he dies.
But
there is more going on in Kurosawa’s film—the director has something to say that
is universal regarding a) government bureaucracy; b) working for years in a job
that provides no pleasure; c) gossip among co-workers and family about things
for which they don’t bother to learn the truth; d) the medical profession’s
reluctance to tell a patient the hard facts; e) and, finally, how important it
is to find something in one’s life that is fulfilling. Ikiru means “to live†in Japanese.
This
brings me to the lead actor, Takashi Shimura. While Toshiro Mifune usually gets
all the accolades of being “Japan’s greatest actor†etc. etc., and while I
don’t begrudge Mifune-san this praise, I believe Shimura-san had a longer,
deeper, and more varied career as an actor. If you’ve seen Rashomon or Seven Samurai,
then you know who he is—Shimura played the leader of the seven samurai, and he
was the woodcutter in Rashomon. In
fact, Shimura, was in twenty-one of Kurosawa’s thirty films (Mifune was in
sixteen). Shimura also appeared in Gojira
(Godzilla, 1954, and its American
cut, Godzilla—King of the Monsters,
1956) in a major role of a paleontologist. The actor appeared in several other
Toho Studios monster movies released worldwide. In fact, Shimura was in over
200 films between 1934 and 1981 (he died in 1982 at the age of 76). Than man
was a genius. One only has to compare the actor’s performances in both Ikiru and Seven Samurai to appreciate the diversity this talented actor
possessed. Takashi Shimura is Japan’s greatest unsung cinema thespian.
Criterion
has re-issued Ikiru with a new, very
good-looking restored 4K digital transfer, with uncompressed monaural
soundtrack. There is an audio commentary from 2003 by Stephen Prince, author of
The Warrior’s Camera: The Cinema of Akira
Kurosawa. Supplements include a 90-minute documentary from 2000 about
Kurosawa that features interviews with the director; a lengthy documentary from
2003 on Ikiru featuring interviews
with Kurosawa, one of the script writers, other members of the crew, and
Takashi Shimura. There’s a new English subtitle translation, and the obligatory
trailer. An essay by critic and travel writer Pico Iyer and a reprint from
critic Donald Richie’s book The Films of
Akira Kurosawa are included in the booklet.
Ikiru is a movie about
humanity, life, and death, and it’s perhaps Kurosawa’s most personal film. That
means it’s a must for connoisseurs of foreign cinema.
The 1963 romantic comedy Come Fly With Me has been released by the Warner Archive. The film is a breezy, if dated, homage to an era when flying on a commercial airliner was actually deemed to be an exotic experience. The movie chronicles the love lives of three stewardesses (remember that quaint term?)- Donna Stewart (Dolores Hart) and Hilde Bergstrom (Lois Nettleton) are mature, self-determined young women and the newbie to their flight crew, Carol Brewster (Pamela Tiffin) is a bumbling but irresistible airhead. All of them have one common trait, keeping in the era in which the film was made: they are all drop dead gorgeous. This is one instance in which a profession has not been Hollywood-ized to make it appear glamorous. Back in the day stewardesses were considered to be highly desirable jobs, as they allowed young women the opportunity to not only earn a good living but also see the world during their down time. At the time, few women had opportunities to exert their talents as business executives, so working for an airline was one way out of a humdrum lifestyle. However, there were plenty of misogynist males who controlled the rules that deemed whether a young woman was worthy of being a stewardess. For one, they had to be unmarried. They had to be attractive and had to agree to Draconian terms that could see them fired if they gained too much weight. Adding insult to injury, they would sometimes even have to provide their measurements as part of the employment process. Fortunately, we live in a world today where such practices are not only unthinkable but also illegal. However, we also live in a world today in which travel has become an ordeal rather than a pleasure. Customers must endure skyrocketing prices, petty additional charges and the discomfort of being squeezed like cattle into the tiny confines of their seats. Thus, Come Fly With Me does provide a journey into the past, for both better and worse, when it comes to reliving the glory days of airline travel.
The plot finds our three heroines on an exotic flight that will take them first to Paris, then on to Austria. From the get-go we see how stewardesses were considered to be human prey by lecherous male customers who paw at them and make awkward attempts to get dates. In the film, the women are also targeted by flight crew members. Each of the women ends up meeting their own prospective lover. Naturally, each of them initially spawns the advances. Donna has a chance encounter with a charismatic but egotistical Austrian baron, Franz von Elzinger (Karl Boehm) whose attempts to woo her backfire. Hilde is courted by a older, polite customer, Walter Lucas (Karl Malden) while Carol meets cute with the First Officer of the flight, handsome Ray Winsley (Hugh O'Brian). It will not be giving away any spoilers to reveal that each of the women ends up agreeing to date their individual suitor. Donna is swept off her feet by the lavish favors bestowed on her by Franz. However, in a rather engrossing plot twist, it is revealed that he is actually using her as an unwitting "mule" to smuggle diamonds into Austria on her future visits. Hilde finds herself smitten by the earnest and gentlemanly Walter, but turns sour on the relationship when she learns he has been recently widowed and suspects he only likes her because she resembles his deceased wife. Carol finds a willing boyfriend in Ray but is alarmed to find out he has been having a long-term affair with a predatory married woman in Paris. Worse, the woman's husband has filed a formal complaint with the airline, which has punished him by refusing to promote him to captain.
The film was designed primarily as a chick flick in an era that began a few years earlier with Three Coins in the Fountain, which depicted for the first time the notion that young women should travel the world together on exotic vacations. This was followed by Where the Boys Are, a movie that had an even greater impact in encouraging single women to indulge themselves in travel and partying. (Coincidentally, it starred Dolores Hart). Come Fly With Me sends out mixed messages in terms of women's liberation. On the one hand, the three main female characters are headstrong and think nothing of making demands of their suitors that ensure they are treated with respect. (For all the romantic scenes in the film, it's implied that these ladies are distinctly virginal despite a few frank references to sex.) On the other hand, each of them seemingly only wants to find that special guy and settle down, presumably willing to sacrifice their careers in the process. In the movie's favor is the fact that it was actually filmed on location in Paris and Vienna, which adds a luster that many films of the era lacked. (The studio sequences were shot at MGM's now defunct UK-based studios.) Consequently, the movie has a rich, classy feel to it. The cast is also impressive with each of the stars delivering an amusing performance, even if Tiffin does overdo the lovable goofball routine. The location scenery in these gorgeous European locales still impresses and the movie benefits from the title song by Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn, which was a big hit for Frank Sinatra in 1957, though it's sung here over the credits by Frankie Avalon. The proceedings move along at a brisk pace thanks to the efficiency of Henry Levin's direction and the impressive cinematography by the legendary Oswald Morris. The screenplay was written by the esteemed William Roberts (The Magnificent Seven, The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm). The film ultimately builds to a somewhat suspenseful conclusion via the diamond smuggling plot before it tapers off to a contrived finale in which each of the ladies resolves their romantic issues and finds fulfillment with their flawed, but still admirable beau.
I enjoyed Come Fly With Me despite its predictable story line, largely because of the charismatic cast and the presentation of a bygone era that is somewhat fascinating from a sociological perspective. The Warner Archive DVD transfer is hit-and-miss. At times the film looks gorgeous but at some points (especially in sequences using second unit footage) there is a yellowish hue. There are no extras.
(Trivia notes: This was Dolores Hart's final film. She was a hot property with the studios but decided to leave acting to become a nun. Today she is a respected abbess of a monastery and a documentary about her life was nominated for an Oscar in 2012. Actress Lois Maxwell appears in the movie in an inexplicably wordless role despite having many high profile film credits including two James Bond movies as Miss Moneypenny and the horror classic The Haunting, which was released the same year as Come Fly With Me. It would appear as though much of her footage may have ended up on the cutting room floor.)
When
it opened in theaters some 55 years ago, on July 13, 1960, producer/director
Irwin Allen’s “The Lost World†promised 96 minutes of exotic, CinemaScope,
Color by DeLuxe fantasy adventure about dinosaurs and modern-day explorers in a
remote corner of the world. As difficult
as it may be for older filmgoers to remember today, and for younger ones to
even imagine, widescreen cinematography and sumptuous color were powerful draws
in that era before home theater, 500 cable channels, and streaming video. The TV set in your living room would only
pick up three or four stations at best on a small black-and-white screen. A night out at the movies in CinemaScope and
air conditioning was a big treat for most families. Talk about a lost world. Ten-year-olds were further primed by a Dell
movie-tie-in comic book with its cover photo of a fearsome giant reptile
emerging from a sinister fog: “Fantastic
adventures of an expedition to a lost land of prehistoric animals and fierce
headhunters!â€
The
enticements worked and Allen’s movie did good business, but its reviews failed
to match its commercial success. The
critics, who had little use for science fiction anyway in that era before the
genre became big entertainment business, derided nearly every aspect of the
film. Some of their points were
valid. By filming on studio backlots and
using stock footage to cut costs, Allen compromised the classy value of Winton
Hoch’s expansive widescreen cinematography. The script by Allen and his frequent collaborator, one-time Alfred Hitchcock
scenarist Charles Bennett, leaned heavily on conventional Hollywood plot
elements to pad out Conan Doyle’s rousing but rather dramatically thin source
material. Those might not have been
serious liabilities five or ten years earlier, but Hollywood was already moving
in the direction of greater realism, at least in terms of filming in authentic
exotic locations rather than a sound stage. Most small-town audiences probably didn’t care, but their comments
didn’t enter the permanent record. The
newspaper and magazine reviews did. Today, compared with the level of lifelike detail that modern CGI can
produce, the sets look even cruder in the jungle scenes.
Worse
for special effects purists, Allen dashed hopes that the movie would employ the
magic of stop-motion animation that had distinguished First National Pictures’
original, silent-screen version of “The Lost World†in 1925. Instead, as another way to save money and
time, the production substituted tricked-out lizards for the ingenious,
articulated model dinosaurs that Willis O’Brien had built and animated for the
1925 film. O’Brien was credited as a
“technical expert†for the 1960 film, but the work really was done by Fox’s
in-house team of L.B. Abbott, James B. Gordon, and Emil Kosa Jr. When “The Lost World†ran on TV from the
late 1960s through the ‘80s, it suffered even further: pan-and-scan conversion
ruined Hoch’s cinematography and made the artificiality of the sets even more
apparent. It didn’t help that Allen
recycled footage from the movie for his TV series “Voyage to the Bottom of the
Sea†(1964-68) and “The Time Tunnel†(1966-67). The practice confirmed Allen’s critical reputation as a crass
penny-pincher and may have conflated the movie with those childish TV shows in
viewers’ memories.
In
the film, scientist George Edward Challenger (Claude Rains) returns from an
expedition to the wilds of the upper Amazon, where he claims to have found an
isolated plateau on which dinosaurs have survived into the present. Not having any physical or photographic proof
(his photos were lost when his canoe overturned on the return trip), and
already regarded by his staid colleagues as an egotistical gadfly, he is met
with disbelief. He proposes to launch a
return expedition, joined by his skeptical rival Professor Summerlee (Richard Haydn)
and globe-trotting sportsman Lord John Roxton (Michael Rennie). As a condition for financing the quest,
newspaper magnate Stuart Holmes (John Graham) coerces Challenger into taking
star reporter Ed Malone (David Hedison) along. Malone will file breaking-news dispatches on the way to the Amazon and
beyond -- a prescient 1960 version of today’s reality TV and real-time internet
coverage of sensational “infotainment.â€
Flying
to South America, as represented by the actors in close-up looking out of airplane
windows at spectacular stock aerial footage of lush jungles and cascading
waterfalls, the expedition reaches an outpost where they are met by guide Costa
(Jay Novello) and helicopter pilot Gomez (Fernando Lamas). They also have two unwelcome additions. Holmes’ daughter Jennifer (Jill St. John),
has impulsively jetted over without parental knowledge to join her boyfriend
Roxton, accompanied by her brother David (Ray Stricklyn). From the outpost, Gomez’ chopper ferries the
explorers to the lost plateau. There, a
dinosaur wrecks the helicopter, stranding them. After adventures with other dinos, giant spiders, and man-eating venus
fly-traps and voracious creeper vines, they are captured by a tribe of
cannibals. A gorgeous native girl
(Vitina Marcus) helps them escape through the perils of the Graveyard of the
Damned and the Lake of Fire (did Lucas and Spielberg see this movie as teens
and take notes?). There’s a subplot
about a dark secret in Roxton’s recent past and a hunt for diamonds, leading to
a confrontation with one of his fellow travelers in a grotto where a gunshot
rouses another dinosaur, which eats the most expendable character in the
cast. Getting rid of the monster by
dumping a cascade of lava on it, the survivors flee the plateau just before the
magma sets off a volcanic explosion.
The
novel and the 1925 movie ended with Challenger taking a dinosaur back to
London, where the creature escapes and causes panic (in the book, a
pterodactyl, in the silent film, a Willis O’Brien T-Rex). Allen, in another cost-conscious move (or did
he have thoughts about a sequel?), ends with a baby T-Rex, actually a gecko,
hatching from an egg, and Challenger jovially promising to take it back as
proof for skeptics.
Since he made his one and only on screen appearance as James Bond in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" in 1969, George Lazenby has discussed his dramatic experiences before and behind the cameras many times. As any Bond fan knows, Lazenby was plucked from obscurity to replace Sean Connery, who had quit the 007 series after "You Only Live Twice" in 1967. Lazenby was a well-known Australian model but he had no acting experience. Midway through the film, he told producers Cubby Broccoli and Harry Saltzman that he had decided to quit the role after this one film. Not even he temptation of a mega salary could convince Lazenby to sign on for more films. He became convinced Bond could not thrive into the 1970s. Ultimately, Sean Connery returned to the role for "Diamonds Are Forever" and would be followed by Roger Moore's long run as 007. Lazenby's acting career never took off but over the passage of time, he has had the satisfaction of seeing his movie regarded as one of the best by both enlightened critics and fans. He has discussed his trials and tribulations on the film set many times, acknowledging that he was sometimes egotistical and demanding, but also denying many other rumors regarding his behavior. In this rare 1970 interview, Lazenby discusses the controversies while the movie itself was still in general release. The uncredited interview is refreshingly intelligent and Lazenby is candid and honest about his opinions. He admits his suggestions for making Bond more contemporary were justifiably ignored but also denies reports that he did not get on well with the crew. He also says that his refusal to cut his hair and shave his beard cost him a studio-paid tour of America, so he paid for his own publicity tour. The documentary is one of the few that acknowledges that the film was a major boxoffice success, despite inaccurate initial reports that it was a bomb. Given the fact that he is critical of aspects of the production, it's rather surprising that Eon Productions allocated so much footage for use in this interview.
For
this reviewer, Terry-Thomas’s turn as dastardly Raymond Delauney in the 1960 Brit-com
School for Scoundrels remains one of
his finest. The actor’s effervescent personality gelled perfectly with the
penmanship of Stephen Potter to create an egotistical chauvinist you couldn’t
help but take a liking to. Just a year later, in 1961’s His and Hers, his portrayal of a similar cad is one of his weaker
turns and rapidly becomes tiresome. It’s all in the writing, folks.
His and Hers was the
penultimate film from Brian Desmond Hurst, whose moment in the sun was the
sterling 1951 adaptation of “A Christmas Carolâ€, featuring Alistair Sim in the
title role of Scrooge. Hurst, along
with writers Jan and Mark Lowell and Stanley Mann, hailed from a background in screen
drama, so comely was not the likeliest genre for them to tackle. The lukewarm
results are testimony to their folly.
Intrepid
adventurer – and author of the hugely successful “I Conquered…†series of books
– Reggie Blake (Terry-Thomas) returns from his latest escapade in the Sahara.
His past expeditions have all been stage-managed by his canny publisher Charles
Dunton (Wilfred Hyde-White); the sharks he fought in the Atlantic were rubber,
the igloo he inhabited in the Arctic had central heating. But this time the set-up
went wrong and so for his new book Reggie wants to do away with the fiction and
tell it as it really was. The problem is it’s boring. When Reggie adopts a
pompous stance and threatens to take the manuscript elsewhere, it causes
friction with both his wife Fran (Janette Scott) and Dunton. Shrewdly aware
that the public is eager for a new “I Conquered…†epic, Dunton conspires with
Fran to pretend to write a book
exposing her husband’s faux adventures – “I Was Conquered by a Middle-aged
Monster†– in the hope it’ll coax Reggie into delivering a book that will actually
sell. But Reggie proves more stubborn than either of them expects…
…“And
much hilarity ensuesâ€, as they say. Except in the case of His and Hers, it doesn’t. As previously mentioned, Terry-Thomas’s
character isn’t very likeable. Unfortunately, rather damningly, neither are
Hyde-White’s or Scott’s. They’re all
objectionable. Thus the intended humour as husband and wife divide up their
house into “his†and “hers†areas falls flat. Their struggles to adapt to their
new roles – he on all levels of domesticity, she in her attempts to immerse
herself in the business of authorship – seldom elicit more than a tepid smile.
So
what are we left with? Not a lot. It there’s any fun to be derived here, it’s
in the form of a myriad of cameos from favourites of the big and small screen.
Kenneth Connor, Oliver Reed, Kenneth Williams, Joan Sims, Marie Deveraux,
Francesca Annis, Joan Hickson – even a youthful William Roach – have all put in
appearances by the time the end credits roll. These cameos certainly lend His and Hers curiosity value, but
there’s regrettably little else for which one could recommend it.
As
a constituent in their “The British Film†collection, Network Distributing in
the UK have just released the film on DVD and (incredulously, given its
mediocre value) Blu-Ray too, though to be fair the crisp black and white print
is pristine. The only supplement offered is a short gallery of original FOH stills.
Twilight Time has released director/writer Walter Hill's 1978 thriller The Driver as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray. The film is intentionally antiseptic when it comes to development of characters. They are deliberately opaque. In fact, not one character in the movie has a name. The credits refer to them by their professions or physical characteristics. Ryan O'Neal stars in an almost wordless role (he speaks literally 350 words according to the informative liner notes by Julie Kirgo) as a legendary Los Angeles wheelman who gets paid big sums of money to drive getaway cars in the commission of crimes. The Driver doesn't know the people he is in league with and sentiment plays no part in his decision as to whether to accept an assignment. It's strictly based on the money to be earned and his confidence in the people pulling off the caper. The film opens on the robbery of a gambling den in Los Angeles. The crooks bungle their time table, leading The Driver to have to enact death-defying stunts in order to outrun a fleet of police cars in rapid pursuit. He succeeds in doing so but curtly informs his confederates that he will never work with them again because of their lack of professionalism. Meanwhile an arrogant detective (Bruce Dern) is excited by the challenge of finally capturing and convicting The Driver, a man he has been pursuing with a Javert-like zeal for years. He recovers a piece of evidence that leads him to The Driver. The Detective is blatantly breaking the law by setting up a crime and forcing some petty criminals to approach The Driver to be the wheelman. If they succeed in enlisting him for the job, they will walk away from jail sentences. The Detective doesn't want them: he only wants them to lure in the big fish so he can have the ultimate victory. To say that things go wrong across the board would be an understatement but the scenario allows Walter Hill to stage some of the most spectacular car chases in the history of the medium. He was clearly inspired by the success of Bulllitt, which he worked on, and he replicates that film's effective method of mounting a camera inside each speeding car. The result is thrilling. The caper aspect of the story is less impressive largely because of the vaguely-defined characters. Each one is unlikable and somewhat obnoxious. We root for The Driver only because The Detective is so egotistical and morally ambiguous. Isabelle Adjani is thrown into the mix as sexy window dressing but she saunters around wearing a glum, depressed expression and the script does not provide any opportunity for her to develop on screen chemistry with O'Neal. O'Neal, always a competent but bland and unexciting actor, is actually in his element in this role, as it seems to suit his real life personality. Dern steals the show because his character at least has some interesting eccentricities to play off of. There are some fine sequences aside from the chase scenes, with Dern's pursuit of a suspect aboard an Amtrak train especially exciting, even though it seems based on a similar sequence in Peckinpah's The Getaway. Ronnee Blaklee gives a fine performance as a southern woman caught up in the L.A. crime scene who pays a terrible price for that affiliation in the film's most disturbing sequence. The Driver is an imperfect film but it is an exciting one.
The Twilight Time release boasts a first rate transfer, an original trailer that shows a snippet of a kiss between Adjani and O'Neal that I don't believe ended up in the final cut and a deleted original opening sequence that gives a bit more depth to the characters but which drags along at a snail's pace. Hill was right to eject it from the film.
In all, another fine Twilight Time release and one that is highly recommended.
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.
Twilight Time has released a magnificent Blu-ray edition of Nicholas and Alexandra, limited to 3,000 region-free units. The transfer is superb and this release maintains the original intermission break. Bonus features include an isolated track of Richard Rodney Bennett's impressive score, the original trailer and four very interesting vintage production featurettes, as well as an illustrated collector's booklet with scholarly notes by Julie Kirgo (almost worth the price of the Blu-ray alone). 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 and should be a part of any retro movie lover's home video collection.
Impulse Films has released two vintage erotic titles, Serena: An Adult Fairy Tale and Same Time Every Year. The most surprising element of both titles is that they are hard-core porn, but they are being accorded mainstream status through an aggressive promotional campaign by the DVD label, which is a division of Synapse Films. What is enjoyable about the Synapse catalog is the sheer diversity of their releases, ranging from classic and cult horror films to the notorious Nikkatsu Japanese soft-core titles (which are accorded Citizen Kane-like treatment, complete with extensive liner notes and poster reproductions.). These new titles don't get the same tender, loving care, but they are accorded "respectable" status nonetheless.
Serena: An Adult Fairy Tale- is a 1980 spin on the Cinderella legend, albeit of a kind that would have dear old Walt Disney spinning in his grave. Serena (played by an actress known as Serena), is a teenage sexpot who is sold into modern slavery by an evil stepfather. In her new "home", she is abused both sexually and psychologically. In between doing back-breaking housework, Serena is routinely called upon to satisfy her new mistress and her other female household guests. She's also used for sexual pleasure by a string of male visitors to the house. There isn't a social message being made here about the horrors of modern sex slavery, as Serena seems even more perturbed when she is left out of the action. The razor-thin "plot" finds the females of the house preparing for a big party for some hunky males (in this case, "grand ball" takes on an entirely different meaning.) Serena has been banished to her room as the other girls enjoy the orgy. She is visited by an equally sexy female supernatural presence who grants her wish to be able to attend the festivities. Presto! Serena suddenly appears at the party and predictably steals all the attention away from the egotistical women who have long mistreated her. Familiar faces from the era appear in the movie, including China Leigh and Jamie Gillis. Perhaps not coincidentally, the running time of the film is 69 minutes.
Same Time Every Year- was shot in 1981 and centers on an amusing scenario in which a group of male friends pretend each year that they must leave town for a business convention, leaving their wives back home. In fact, they are meeting their mistresses for wild sexual encounters. Meanwhile, the not-so-desperate housewives are all too happy to go along with the scenario, as it gives them an opportunity to get it on with a string of male and female lovers of their own. That's pretty much it. As with Serena, the movie was remastered from original 35mm film elements. (The opening and end titles show a lot of wear, but we have to remember these were not preserved in the Library of Congress) and, for the most part, quality is very good. The cast in this one includes the omnipresent China Leigh, Loni Sanders, Herschel Savage, Holly McCall and an impossibly svelte Ron Jeremy, before he indulged in the Marlon Brando dietary plan. There is also a credit for Boo, The Wonder Horse, but don't panic- the action never gets that kinky.
Both films are "directed" (so to speak) by one Fred J. Lincoln, whose apparent "legit" claim to fame is having appeared in Wes Craven's original Last House on the Left. A look at his IMDB credits shows Mr. Lincoln must be the hardest working man in the porn industry, having cranked out many dozens of titles right up through today, including some with some name recognition such as Dallas Does Debbie the infamous 1970s flick The Defiance of Good that preceded the Traci Lords scandal when it was revealed that the movie's female lead, Jean Jennings, was under age.
I suppose that one's ability to wax nostalgic about porn movies very much depends upon your receptiveness to the genre itself, as well as the era in which you grew up. Back in the pre-home video day, it was considered an upscale experience when a porn film was shot in 35mm. These "expensive" productions drew large audiences and sometimes played for years in the same theater. The quality still exceeds today's boring adult fare in the sense that, at least some degree of film making skill was required behind the camera. There are also some hints of production values, with occasional glimpses of opulent homes and settings. Probably the biggest difference between then and now is that the actors actually resembled real people in those days. There's an abundance of hair and sweat, but the cast members actually look real people, as opposed to the Botox and silicone-injected, indistinguishable robots who populate today's boring erotic videos.
There are no extras on the DVDs, which is too bad because it would be interesting to hear Fred J. Lincoln's insights on how the porn business has changed over the decades. Nevertheless, if you're not offended by these types of things, the Impulse releases will bring back some good (and naughty) memories.
If you haven't picked up Warner Home Video's release of Clint Eastwood's 1992 Oscar-winner Unforgiven on Blu-ray, don't delay another day. The film made its debut in Blu-ray earlier this year to commemorate the movie's 20th anniversary. For those of us who were long-time champions of Eastwood's abilities as an actor and director, the accolades the movie received made us seem a bit self-satisfied. In the early 1980s I co-authored a book about Eastwood's films and was told by my editor that while his movies were enjoyable, I was guilty of mistaking him for a world-class talent. No one was saying such things after Unforgiven, a classic Western that ranks among the best of the genre. Originally shot under the title The William Munny Killings, the film is a dramatic look at both the best and worst elements of human nature. (The film's final title did seem rather uninspired at the time, given the fact that John Huston had made a high profile western titled The Unforgiven in 1960) No one is completely good or bad in this film, including the Sheriff Little Bill (an Oscar winning performance by Gene Hackman), who runs his small town with an iron fist. He considers himself to be a good man and he certainly is courageous and incorruptible. However, when he doles out mild punishment for a man who used a knife to commit an atrocity on a local prostitute, her fellow hookers pool their hard-earned savings and offer a bounty to the man or men who kill or bring to justice the culprit and his companions. Answering the call is William Munny, an aging widower with two small children who is desperate to renounce his past as a hard-bitten saddle bum with a penchant for spilling blood. The bounty money will afford him the chance to start a new life. He is aided by his old friend Ned (Morgan Freeman) and a green horn who goes by the name of the Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett, who should have gone on to stardom). The Kid claims to be a hardened killer but his older mentors realize immediately he is all bluster. This disparate trio begins to track down the man who abused the prostitute and end up on a hellish journey that has unforeseen, tragic consequences.
Eastwood, who kept the screenplay by David Webb Peoples on a shelf until the time was right to dust it off, provides assured, top-notch direction as well as giving one of the best performances of his career. (He also wrote the film's haunting theme song for good measure). The supporting performances are all outstanding with Richard Harris making an odd, but unforgettable mid-film appearance as an egotistical British gunslinger who gets his just desserts at the hands of Little Bill. Every nuance of the movie rings true right down to the final gun battle in saloon that is brilliantly directed by Eastwood.
The deluxe version of the Blu-ray release comes in the format of a small, hardback photo book with an introduction by Eastwood. The photo content is worth the price of the set alone, with script pages, rare pre-production ads and behind the scenes photos displayed. Best of all is the bonus content which has been available on the previous DVD release:
Commentary track by Eastwood and biographer Richard Schickel
All on Accounta Pullin' a Trigger, which features recent interviews with cast and crew about the making of the film
Eastwood... A Star, a retrospective look at the screen legend's career
Eastwood and Company: Making 'Unforgiven': Schickel's outstanding one hour documentary that originally aired on broadcast TV
Eastwood on Eastwood, in which the actor/director reflects on his long career
A vintage episode of Maverick in which Eastwood plays a hardcase cowboy who goes up against star James Garner
Original trailer
In summary, it would be unforgivable not to add this deluxe Blu-ray of Unforgiven to your library. (The film is available as a bare-bones Blu-ray, but spring for the deluxe edition.)
The 1960 version of Where the Boys Are may look laughably quaint today, but at the time of its release, it was quite a groundbreaker in terms of reflecting the primitive days of women's lib in the cinema. The tale of a group of college girls who head south to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break resonated with teens across America. The film was primarily squeaky clean, but it did have some scenes and premises that were considered shocking in the day: young girls who dare to suggest that sex can be enjoyed by females prior to marriage. It also addressed the dilemma of a girl "getting in trouble" in the days before abortion was legal and the only choice was a back alley surgical operation or motherhood at an early age. In 1984, flamboyant producer Allan Carr updated the premise with a new version of the film, Where the Boys Are '84. The film has just been released on DVD on the Scorpion label as a special edition. In terms of comparing the two versions, what a difference a two-and-a-half decades can make. The '84 version reflects how far women's views on sex had progressed. This time around, one of the girls advises her friend on how to pack for the trip: "All you need is a diaphragm and a bikini!" Before long, a convertible packed with sex-crazed coeds is cruising toward Florida. Once in the midst of madness in Fort Lauderdale, they find their hotel is a dump, virtual orgies take place in the hallways, one of their group is arrested and their hard-earned savings go to bailing her out, etc, etc. Naturally, love and sex become immediate components of their stint in the sin capital of American's East Coast. They also become tight with a hunky hitchhiker they had picked up along the way (Russell Todd, who bares an almost uncanny resemblance to young John Travolta). At other times, they are wooed by Camden Roxbury (Daniel McDonald), a world-acclaimed concert pianist who disdains their hedonistic lifestyle even as he tries to romance the more conservative of the group, Jenny (Lisa Hartman) The film is only loosely based on the original, but follows the central plot premise of having each of the individual girls learn life lessons from their experiences in Fort Lauderdale. One learns that her long time boyfriend has more qualities than she realized, especially when contrasted with some of the egotistical beach boys and married men who woo her. Another reevaluates her treatment of sex as a recreational tool. Unlike the original, there are few moments that approach real drama. They are quickly discarded in favor of scenes of wild parties and sun-tanned bodies.
Lorna Luft's memorable turn in the "hot bod" contest.
Where the Boys Are '84 is like cinematic cotton candy in that it's pleasurable but those pleasures evaporate quickly. The movie is clearly designed as a chick flick, though producer Carr obviously realized that there had to be plenty of T&A to keep boyfriends in the audience from dozing off. Consequently, there are many gratuitous shots of college girls in itsy bitsy bikinis jiggling like Jello, as well as a hot bod contest that goes topless in the final moments. Compared to the original film, this version looks like a scene from Caligula. However, over the ensuing years, it might be confused with a Disney flick when held up against today's stream of gross-out teen comedies. The primary pleasure of the movie is the engaging female cast headed by Lisa Hartman, Lorna Luft, Lynn-Holly Johnson and Wendy Schall as the adventurous coeds, with Louise Sorel and Alana Stewart playing upper crust, pretentious cougars. The direction by old pro Hy Averback, primarily known for his work on television, is competent enough, and he stages a ludicrous but ambitious scene in which countless kids use a makeshift armada to descend upon a mansion for an anything-goes style party. The film's climax is a cringe-inducing concert that drips with so much sugary syrup that it makes the Archies look like The Sex Pistols. Purists will be relieved to know that Connie Francis' chart topping title song is played over the end credits, capably crooned by Lisa Hartman.
The DVD includes new interviews with Wendy Schall and Russell Todd,. Both are very charming but neither presents much in the way of insights beyond "he/she was a pleasure to work with" in reference to their stars. However, they do extol the virtues of Allan Carr, whose madcap determination to make a blockbuster had him convinced this would be another Saturday Night Fever. He was wrong. The film under-performed at the boxoffice, but looking at it in retrospect, it has a certain charm for those of us with fond memories of the bygone era of the 1980s. (An original theatrical trailer is also included).
A truly under-appreciated and little-seen gem, Power Play has recently been released on DVD through the Scorpion label. Like other niche market titles that have been surfacing in droves, this one has so much to recommend about it that it seems almost criminal so few movie fans have seen the movie. The 1978 thriller takes place in an unnamed central European country where the repressive government is employing increasingly harsh crackdowns on the general population and utilizing torture against dissidents. Fearing the breakout of civil war, Dr. Jean Rousseau (Barry Morse), an intellectual with ties to the military, persuades key army officers to plan a coup. They are led by Col. Anthony Narriman (David Hemmings, who co-produced the film), a rather pacifist soldier who reluctantly agrees to head the plot in order to save the nation he loves. The tight-knit group carefully approaches other officers they suspect may be in sympathy. Among them is a wild card: tank commander Colonel Zeller (Peter O'Toole), a flamboyant and egotistical man whose forces are essential to the operation.As the plotting proceeds, the story becomes quite suspenseful as the group deals with an almost paranoid obsession that their activities are being uncovered by Blair (Donald Pleasence), a murderous government bureaucrat who will stop at nothing to preserve the status quo.
Over
the last thirty years Taschen have consistently produced some of the most
lavish and eye-catching photography books ever published. This latest book, Los Angeles: Portrait of a City by Jim Heimann and Kevin Starr,
covers the history of L.A in photos, from the first known picture taken
in 1862 through to the present day. Whilst those first few chapters of photos
and maps are interesting, particularly to historians, for movie fans the real
gold comes later on. There are photos reproduced here from a variety of
collections, from personal archives to news media. There are even pictures
taken by the actors themselves, such as this one that Dennis Hopper took in his
car in 1961.
L.A. from the vantage point of Dennis Hopper's lens.
In the
book you can see Edward G. Robinson in reflective mood as he sits surrounded by
memorabilia in his office, or a bikini-clad Jayne Mansfield reclining in a pool
with dozens of floating toy replicas. We can even be present at the first
Academy Award ceremony in 1929. Some photos depict film making in its early
silent days. It’s incredible to see the elaborate indoor/ outdoor sets built to
ensure they captured as much light as possible, and it demonstrates that even
then, like modern-day movie sets, there are always plenty of people standing
around with no evident job role. There are also on set photos from some Busby
Berkeley musicals, demonstrating the amazing set design and vast camera cranes
needed to capture the choreographed action.
(NOTE: THIS IS A REVISED POSTING OF THE REVIEW. DUE TO A TECHNICAL PROBLEM, THE ORIGINAL POSTING WAS INCOMPLETE)
JOHN PHILIP LAW: DIABOLIK ANGEL
By Carlos Aguilar & Anita Hass
Foreword by Ray Harryhausen
Scifiworld/Quatermass         240 pages Â
€35.00                                                            Â
Review by John Exshaw
Towards the end of John Phillip Law: Diabolik Angel, authors Carlos Aguilar and Anita Haas describe their book as “an unfinished workâ€, anticipating, as they did, further films in the strange career of an actor best remembered for playing the black-clad super-criminal in Mario Bava’s Danger: Diabolik (1968), the blind angel, Pygar, in Roger Vadim’s Barbarella (1968), and the turbaned hero of The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973). Sadly, as it turned out, Diabolik Angel will stand instead as the last word on Law, who died of cancer at the age of 70 in May of last year, during the final stages of the book’s preparation.
Due, in part, to his association with such iconic, but necessarily two-dimensional, characters as Diabolik and Sinbad, Law himself remained something of a screen enigma, a somewhat remote, otherworldly presence whose own personality was seldom discernable in the roles he played. His best non-fantasy performances – as the naïve Russian submariner in The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming! (1965), the haunted protagonist of Death Rides a Horse (1967), the object of Rod Steiger’s affections in The Sergeant (1968), and the deadly but anachronistic knight of the air in Von Richthofen and Brown (1971, a.k.a. The Red Baron) – were sufficiently compelling and varied (though united by a certain innocence) to suggest that Law would become a leading character star of the 1970s. And yet somehow such status eluded him.
Reflecting on this, Law remarked, “A lot of people have told me that I had all the qualities to be a big star, one of the biggest of my generation. Like Robert Redford and Warren Beatty, who are both the same age as me, and both started at the same time. But the point is that I never wanted to be a star, I wanted to be an actor, and that isn’t the same thing. Besides, there was always the problem of my height [6’5â€]: I was too tall to play somebody’s son, and too baby-faced to look like someone’s father. That’s why they almost always gave me roles of special characters, like comic book heroes, and historical figures.â€
Combined with that, as Aguilar and Haas make clear, Law “came across few projects that suited his peculiarities [and] without a doubt . . . made some bad and irreversible mistakes.†The latter included turning down the Jon Voight part in Midnight Cowboy (on his agent’s advice) and that of Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider (due to a schedule conflict). In addition to rejecting films which he should, in retrospect, have accepted, Law also displayed a spectacular talent for picking those best avoided, such as Otto Preminger’s late-period duds, Hurry Sundown (1967) and Skidoo (1968), the soporific The Hawaiians (1970), the conspicuously flaccid The Love Machine (1971), and that byword for self-indulgence and ill-discipline, Dennis Hopper’s The Last Movie (also 1971), a title that would prove all too prophetic with respect to Law’s standing as a Hollywood star.
In 1969, the year he missed out on both Midnight Cowboy and Easy Rider, Law also suffered the indignity of being replaced in the cast of The Gypsy Moths, following a parachute accident in which he was injured, and a poor relationship with his co-stars: “The atmosphere was terrible. Burt Lancaster was the star... a very egotistical man, who didn’t help anybody while shooting. . . . He couldn’t stand me, I suppose it was because I was taller than him. I can’t think of any other reason. Then there was Gene Hackman, another difficult person who is always trying to steal the show. Good actor, but not a good person. And the director, John Frankenheimer was always drunk before noon. . . .†Aeronautical accidents were to feature again in Law’s career two years later, when, during the shooting of Roger Corman’s Von Richthofen and Brown, several stunt flyers were killed.
Director John Boorman's 1972 classic Deliverance gets a deluxe release from Warner Brothers, and it's sure to please patient fans who have had to subside on the skimpy standard edition that has been on the market. The film is based on poet James Dickey's first novel, a harrowing tale of four buddies from Atlanta who decide to take a weekend canoe trip down a remote Georgia river that is being diverted and will flood nearby towns into extinction. They're a disparate group: Ed (Jon Voight) is the down-to-earth, practical guy who is everyone's best friend; Lewis (Burt Reynolds) is an egotistical survivalist who constantly thrives on being physically superior to his friends; Drew (Ronny Cox) is a quiet, deep thinker and Bobby (Ned Beatty) is the complete fish-out-of-water - a timid, overweight man trying desperately to be accepted as one of the boys. The "fun" weekend starts off on an ominous note as the men witness the sad sight of entire communities about to be disrupted and physically moved. They also begin to carp among each other as Lewis continues to pick on those he feels are not his equals. The plot takes an unexpected and terrifying turn, however, when Ed and Bobby encounter two red neck mountain men who have sex and murder on their minds. This development leads to consequences that are both physically and mentally devastating to everyone involved.
