The Darjeeling Limited September 30, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
Sometimes I can understand how films polarize movie fans (the work of Quentin Tarantino) and sometimes I can’t (Michael Mann’s Miami Vice, for example). Right now, with his new film The Darjeeling Limited just opening the New York Film Festival, Wes Anderson seems to be an auteur under fire, though more of the brush variety than a raging inferno. I can’t be objective any more than I can understand most of the criticism I read (which is substantial, and I keep looking at every review I find in search of some true rationale for the sneering). Anderson’s films are far and above those of any other American filmmaker from the same indie/post-indie generation. He has an unparalleled ability to craft unlikeable characters you want to spend time with, not just once but over and over again. Their failure expresses a very certain, specific emotion that feels at once real and imaginary. By repeatedly going to similar places of frustration and regret, Anderson somehow accomplishes a great deal of truth in such a highly imaginary world. These families of broken potential he explores tend to give audiences hope by trying to make things right. It’s always, always the journey in these films, since the destination has, so far, been of the same nature each time.
It seems the common source of attack for many of Anderson’s detractors concerns the director’s repeated use of a particular style - one in which Anderson himself has created and honed through five films now. Aside from the absurdity of criticizing a director for tweaking similar themes through similar devices, my real problem with this argument is that I don’t think it’s fair to view the world Anderson has so completely brought to life as comparative of the outside reality we face once we step into the street or away from our television sets. His films are a universe unto themselves, on par with the classic Walt Disney animated films or Alfred Hitchcock’s suspense thrillers. Asking why Anderson enjoys using similarly troubled characters or devices like slow motion and perfectly placed classic pop songs is akin to complaining about the recurring murders and male-female relationships in Hitchcock’s films or little girl lost themes found in the animation of Disney’s features or those of Hayao Miyazaki.
But I digress. The Darjeeling Limited. It’s a beautiful film of maturing sadness, pain, and grief - with laughs. Of course, that describes all of his films. Wes Anderson may love Wes Anderson films, but so do I, and I have no problem with that. The Darjeeling Limited is closer in most every way to The Royal Tenenbaums, Anderson’s 2001 film for which he was nominated with co-writer Owen Wilson for a Best Original Screenplay Oscar, than The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, his 2004 film deemed a disappointment commercially and critically. It’s also better than the latter (still underrated) film, if not quite up to the heights of the former. What both Darjeeling and Tenenbaums share, and what Life Aquatic lacked in comparison, are the tender details necessary to humanize Anderson’s eccentricities. The new film tones down the previous one’s comic book quirks and crowded ensemble and instead leaves us with just three lead characters who spend much of their time on a train.
That train is named The Darjeeling Limited and the three stars are Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody and Jason Schwartzman, as the brothers Whitman who haven’t seen each other since their father’s funeral a year ago. Francis (Wilson) has organized a journey through India in search of a spiritual healing. He’s recently been involved in a severe motorcycle crash, leaving his face and head noticeably bruised and bandaged. Peter (Brody) seems to have taken the unexpected loss of their father the hardest and picked up several of the old man’s items for his own, including large prescription sunglasses. He’s also six weeks away from becoming a new father and unsure if his wife was really the right woman to spend his life with. Jack (Schwartzman) is struggling to get over a relationship gone bad, something explored further in Anderson’s short film Hotel Chevalier, which is available for free online but not currently showing theatrically with the feature.
For anyone wondering whether they should first watch Hotel Chevalier before seeing the new film, the answer is of course you should. There are two significant references to the short in the feature that will fly over those who haven’t seen it, as well as diminishing the seriousness of Jack’s troubles. Just seeing the film makes Jack appear depressed and odd, but seeing the short beforehand adds an important depth and understanding to his problems. The teaser I saw before the film started doesn’t help matters, directing audiences to hotelchevalier.com (which, in turn, directs visitors to iTunes) instead of just showing the 13-minute prologue. Not surprisingly, Darjeeling also adds some meaning to Hotel Chevalier and I found the short more impressive on reflection after having seen the feature than I had originally. The emotionally abusive nature of the relationship gains meaning when the viewer learns of Jack’s hang-ups both preceding and subsequent to the events in the short.
In both Darjeeling and Tenenbaums, it’s the emotional blow dealt to the Anderson faithful that really strikes me. If you’re not affected by what the director has done in his previous films, then why even waste money to see his subsequent works or time grousing about them. It’s not a difference of opinion that I find tiresome. It’s the reiterations of the same criticisms without understanding that many, many people see a completely different allure to Anderson’s films, something the complainers apparently can’t appreciate. The Darjeeling Limited playfully bows to Anderson’s admirers in the film’s opening, teasing Bill Murray, making his fourth appearance for the director, and passing the slow-motion Kinks-scored baton to Adrien Brody catching up to the eponymous locomotive. Far from being overly cute in its self-reference, the scene instead assures audiences that yes, this is a Wes Anderson film, and indeed, this is the kind of movie he enjoys making. There’s a welcome evolution of maturity in the film, but also a refusal to completely change the things many viewers hold near and dear in Anderson’s style.
Aside from the usual moments of hilarity found in Anderson’s films (the rotating prescription strength painkillers are used to frequent and funny effect), I think the part of Darjeeling most people will enjoy and be moved by is when the three brothers happen upon a trio of young Indian boys transporting goods across the water. As the raft and boys struggle, the Whitmans finally bond by trying to save the three children against the strength of the current. The ordeal leads to the spiritual journey Francis had superficially been trying to accomplish all along, helping the brothers to regain their lives and let go of their dead father. These scenes, coupled with a visit to their mother’s convent, showcase Anderson’s masterful ability to alternate moods and feelings via sound (not just music, but silence also) and his deceptively simple dialogue.
“I guess I still have some healing left to do,” Francis says as he removes the bandages and looks at his blood-stained facial gashes in the mirror. If that doesn’t get you at least a little, especially given the added depth from Wilson’s recent personal problems, you’re a cold soul unable to appreciate what Anderson’s doing here and elsewhere. To borrow from a forum discussion I recently read, this line and moment in Darjeeling is the cousin of Tenenbaums‘ “I’ve had a rough year, dad.” Is this problematic? No more so than Disney’s happy endings or Hitchcock’s MacGuffins. All of these little aspects of the worlds Anderson magically creates in his films exist solely in the films. They’re parallel universes to our realities. I’m not sure if those with a negative opinion of Anderson fail to understand this concept or simply dislike the idea that someone dares to create a near-mythology separate from what’s found in most movies. It’s nothing new, though, as movies have quite obviously always been different and not representative of most people’s actual lives. That’s why their movies and that’s why so many people devote hours and hours of their lives to watching them.
The TCM Ten 9/29-10/5 September 28, 2007
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It’s been a busy week and I’ve not had time for any other contributions, but the TCM train rolls on with Henry Fonda in control. As always, all times are EST and program days begin at 6:00 AM.
Saturday September 29
2:15 AM They Won’t Forget (LeRoy, 1937) - BW-96 mins. - Working from a screenplay co-written by Robert Rossen, who’d go on to make several notable films including Body and Soul and The Hustler, Claude Rains stars as a southern district attorney hellbent on prosecuting a man for the murder of a young woman (played by Lana Turner). Similar ground as in the Fritz Lang film Fury, made the year before, and Lang apparently turned down the chance to direct this film. Made for Warner Bros. and currently not available on DVD.
Sunday September 30
2:00 AM Diabolique (Clouzot, 1955) - BW-116 mins. - Clouzot’s films are favorites of mine and this is probably at the top. A man’s wife and mistress team up for murder - or do they? This is as watchable as they come. Forty years later, Hollywood tried to remake it and unsurprisingly screwed up. In R1, a DVD is available from Criterion, but it was one of their early ones and the disc is bare. Many expect a re-issue somewhere down the line.
Monday October 1
9:30 AM Detour (Ulmer, 1945) - BW-68 mins. - TCM shows this quite often and there are several DVDs available, with the Image R1 probably looking the best. The film needs a full restoration, as every version I’ve seen has been in pretty bad shape. Ulmer’s film is definitely a noir that is loved by others more than by me, but I think most would agree it’s an essential experience. I have difficulty getting past just how cheap it looks, yet I can’t help but love a line like “fate, or some mysterious force, can put the finger on you or me for no good reason at all.”
Tuesday October 2
8:15 AM Tennessee Johnson (Dieterle, 1942) - BW-104 mins. - Prior to President Clinton’s imbroglio, the only President of the United States to face impeachment was Lincoln’s successor, Andrew Johnson (he too was acquitted, just barely). Aside from being the subject of fun Lincoln-Kennedy coincidences (i.e. both had vice presidents who were from southern states and with the last name Johnson), he’s best known for the impeachment charges, if at all. Though born in North Carolina, Johnson is almost always identified as one of the three presidents hailing from Tennessee, my home state. He was the only southern senator to remain in office after secession and ended up as military governor of the state. Also, the small town I’m from was named after President Johnson. I’m afraid this has little to do with Dieterle’s biopic, where Van Heflin plays the title role. I do find it a little funny that a film about a fairly notorious figure, usually noted primarily for being impeached, was a studio release during World War II. An MGM production, not on DVD and with R1 rights now held by Warner Bros.
Wednesday October 3
1:00 AM Meet John Doe (Capra, 1941) - BW-123 mins. - In the years leading up to WWII, Frank Capra was arguably the greatest director working in Hollywood. I’ve certainly always had a soft spot for his films, including this one starring Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck. It’s interesting that Cooper won his first Oscar for Sergeant York the same year Meet John Doe was released and Stanwyck that year also starred in The Lady Eve and Ball of Fire, which earned her an Academy Award nomination. I’ll gladly take that as evidence that the studio system has never been bettered, in terms of sheer quality and consistency. Capra’s film is available on DVD from numerous sources, but it’s in the public domain and a definitive version has yet to be released. Tonight’s showing comes courtesy of director James Mangold, who will be serving as guest programmer for the evening.
Thursday October 4
11:45 PM The Best Man (Schaffner, 1964) - BW-103 mins. - Gore Vidal adapted his own play about a messy presidential election between front-runners Henry Fonda and Cliff Robertson. Fonda is TCM’s star of the month for October and he’s been pretty well-represented on DVD, but this one remains elusive. It’s inferior to Fonda’s other big political picture from two years earlier, Advise & Consent, but an interesting film nonetheless (especially if you enjoy politics). It looks like United Artists released it theatrically, so MGM (now controlled by Fox) should have R1 DVD rights.
3:15 AM That Certain Woman (Goulding, 1937) -BW-94 mins. - Written and directed by the British filmmaker Edmund Goulding, who would later hit a nice peak with leading man Tyrone Power in The Razor’s Edge and Nightmare Alley, this also stars Fonda, in support of WB star Bette Davis. It looks to be a sort of silly melodrama, but the combination of these three principals piqued my interest. It’s also unavailable on DVD (and perhaps a candidate for a future Bette Davis set).
Friday October 5
8:00 AM Stage Struck (Lumet, 1958) - C-95 mins. - I kind of doubt this is very good, but it re-united Henry Fonda and Sidney Lumet the year after they made 12 Angry Men (which is scheduled for the previous day, along with the director and star’s other notable teaming Fail-Safe) so I’m immediately intrigued. It was, then, Lumet’s second feature and a Technicolor remake of 1933’s Morning Glory, with Susan Strasberg in Katharine Hepburn’s part. The setting is New York theatre life. I see no indication that the film has ever been released on VHS or DVD, anywhere. RKO is listed as the production company, with Walt Disney’s Buena Vista Film Distribution Co. as the distributor. Since Warner Bros. recently released Morning Glory on DVD, I wonder if they own the rights to this as well, or if it’s controlled by Disney.
8:00 PM Curse of the Demon (Tourneur, 1958) - BW-82 mins. - Following Nightfall, which TCM scheduled and canceled a couple of weeks ago (it’s said to be back on for January), friends Jacques Tourneur and Dana Andrews re-teamed for this. I’m looking forward to watching it, as I’ve never seen the film (nor many others with the word “demon” in the title). The version released in the UK is 13 minutes longer and titled Night of the Demon. TCM appears to be showing the shorter American cut, though they have allotted 105 minutes for the film so who knows. Both cuts are included in the R1 DVD released by Sony so I might be better off just giving that look to make sure I see the full thing.
12:15 AM The Leopard Man (Tourneur, 1943) -BW-67 mins. - Tourneur’s reputation was made working with producer Val Lewton on low-budget horror art including Cat People and I Walked with a Zombie. I prefer The Leopard Man though, with its suspense-filled shadows and creepy images. It tells the story of a solid black leopard that escapes from an ill-conceived stunt and the strange murders that follow. Those other two Tourneur-Lewton pictures precede this one. All three are available in Warner Bros.’ excellent box set dedicated to Lewton, but The Leopard Man isn’t available individually.
The TCM Ten 9/22-9/28 September 21, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films , 1 comment so far
Kirk Douglas fans, take note. A bit of a slow week overall, but a few rarely shown things, including Douglas in The Juggler. All times are EST and program days begin at 6:00 AM.
Saturday September 22
6:00 AM T-Men (Mann, 1947) - BW-93 mins. - More Mann noir, this time the John Alton-lensed companion to Raw Deal. Like that film, this is released on DVD in numerous crappy editions and TCM’s print probably trumps them all.
5:15 PM Anatomy of a Murder (Preminger, 1959) - BW-161 mins. - One of Preminger’s best, one of Jimmy Stewart’s finest performances and truly one of the best courtroom dramas ever. It’s a tad lengthy (this is Preminger though), but such an astounding piece of cinema that you’ll hardly notice. George C. Scott, Ben Gazzara, and Lee Remick provide fine support. Released on R1 and R2 DVD by Sony/Columbia, but the R1 is full frame and this was shot 1.85:1. TCM should be showing the correct letterbox version.
Sunday September 23
12:00 AM The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (Lubitsch, 1927) - BW-107 mins. - Lubitsch silent, hopefully TCM will actually show this one instead of bumping it like they did Lady Windemere’s Fan a couple of weeks ago. I don’t think this is available on DVD yet. IMDB lists John M. Stahl, who’d go on to direct Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven, as an uncredited director. Not sure what the story is there, but the film stars Ramon Novarro and Norma Shearer. One of the Lubitsch silents Warner Bros. owns, I believe, as it was made for MGM. WB is so good about releasing classic movies but seems almost completely uninterested in putting out their silents.
2:00 AM Westfront 1918 (Pabst, 1930) - BW-93 mins. - A Janus Films property, meaning Criterion is likely to release at some point. Set during World War I, this German silent was made by G.W. Pabst, director of three films released on DVD in the past year - Pandora’s Box, The Threepenny Opera (both Criterion), and Diary of a Lost Girl (Masters of Cinema). TCM has shown this before, but it’s been several months so I’d advise anyone interested to watch or record this showing if they want to see the film in the next six months or so.
Monday September 24
6:00 PM None But the Lonely Heart (Odets, 1944) - BW-114 mins. - In the annals of Hollywood award history, the two big-time star actors who seem least recognized are Henry Fonda (nominated for two Academy Awards, but forty years apart) and Cary Grant, who only received two Oscar nominations including one for his performance here. Director, playwright, and screenwriter Clifford Odets helmed just two films and his other was the even less-heralded The Story on Page One. I think this is certainly worth watching, for Grant and Odets at least, and it’s surprisingly unavailable on DVD. Made for RKO, and with Warner Bros. controlling the bulk of their library, they presumably own the home video rights in R1.
Tuesday September 25
11:45 PM Champion (Robson, 1949) - BW-100 mins. - Sort of a Kirk Douglas-themed week here. This was his star-making role, for which he received his first of three Oscar nominations. A low-budget grind of a picture, Lewton veteran Mark Robson’s film about a mostly unlikeable boxer’s struggle to succeed was released by United Artists and then wound up with Republic Pictures. The R1 DVD released by Artisan is no longer in print. The Republic library is a mess, but I think Paramount Lion’s Gate controls it in R1.
Wednesday September 26
11:00 AM The Male Animal (Nugent, 1942) - BW-101 mins. - Henry Fonda may be a little under appreciated for his comedic roles. Here he stars as a professor dealing with trustees concerned with a piece of literature Fonda wants to read to his class. Further complications arise when his wife’s ex-boyfriend comes to town for homecoming. Olivia de Havilland co-stars as the wife, Jack Carson is the former football star ex, and Joan Leslie plays de Havilland’s sister. Made for Warner Bros. and not yet on DVD.
Thursday September 27
1:15 PM Ace in the Hole (Wilder, 1951) - BW-111 mins. - After writing about this at length twice, not much else to say. I would recommend that anyone put off by a first viewing try to give it another chance a bit afterwards. Those unwilling to pony up the $40 MSRP for the Criterion DVD can see it for the price of their monthly cable subscription here.
3:15 PM The Juggler (Dmytryk, 1953) -BW-84 mins. - Probably the most anticipated film of the week for me. I’m not sure how rare this or how often TCM shows it, but I’ve been looking out for it since seeing Kirk Douglas in conversation last March and Annette Insdorf mentioned not being familiar with the film and having a hard time finding a copy. Douglas plays a Jewish refugee in Israel having difficulty with the psychological effects of World War II. Not released anywhere on VHS or DVD to my knowledge, Sony currently owns the rights and most likely have no plans to put it out. Orson Welles’ version of Othello airs directly afterwards.
6:30 PM The Bigamist (Lupino, 1953) - BW-79 mins. - Edmond O’Brien is the man of the title, married to both Joan Fontaine and (secretly) Ida Lupino. Off the screen, the man credited with this screenplay, Collier Young, married Fontaine in 1952, only one year after his divorce from Lupino. Is it any surprise that Fontaine was unhappy with her role in the finished film? Lesson: don’t mess with Ida Lupino. The Bigamist was independently made by Lupino’s production company and appears to be in the public domain. Alpha released a DVD in R1, but I’ve not seen it. It can also be watched (or legally downloaded) for free online here.
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner September 19, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1960s , 4 comments
So many times I’ll look forward to seeing a film only to lose patience when I’m actually watching it, disappointed that my expectations haven’t been met. Then something extraordinary happens: the ending. Great endings should enhance everything you’ve seen earlier in the film. More than making up for the viewer’s wandering attention span, truly exceptional endings make the viewer better understand the path the film has been on throughout its running time, while also providing a near-epiphany as to the film’s overall merits. It’s not that a strong ending negates all the flaws from earlier in the film, but I’ve found that it can often provide a method to the earlier madness. All of this applies to The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, directed by Tony Richardson and starring Tom Courtenay.
Since first viewing Billy Liar a couple of weeks ago, I’ve thought quite a bit about that film and the things it’s stirred around inside of me. I was very anxious to see Courtenay’s earlier performance and further explore British films of this time period. I like this angry young man thing. I’m an angry young(ish) man. I’m in color and without the accent, but it seemed promising all the same. Too often change seems hopeless, rebellion impossible. Let’s plan to revolutionize the world tonight, even if we don’t remember it in the morning. That sort of thing. Then I’m watching The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and it’s not there. Who’s this Colin Smith? What’s his problem? His father died, his mother is cold and uncaring, he stole money, he’s punished in a juvenile detention center, and he runs. Where’s Billy Fisher? I can’t relate to this guy. I miss Billy.
But then the ending revs up and suddenly I get it. If the two Courtenay characters are different sides of the same coin, Colin is the strong-willed mischief maker and Billy is the harmless dreamer. They converge at the refusal to conform to society’s ideals regardless of what’s in their best interest. Just because everyone else justifies playing the conformist game doesn’t mean individual rebellion is impossible. I’m reminded of Holden Caulfield, but his fate is even less comforting. As invigorating as Billy Liar and Loneliness can be, they’re ultimately somewhat defeatist. That is, if you adhere to the societal definition of success and defeat. Individually, Billy and Colin both win, very much in their own ways, but they’re also doomed to lives undoubtedly plagued by the creeping intervention of reality. Each character makes a life-altering decision and each film conveniently ends without forcing the bitter pill of the resulting consequences down the audience’s throat.
But perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Richardson’s film, adapted by Saturday Night and Sunday Morning writer Alan Stilltoe from his own short story, seems less dazzling than the near-manic Billy Liar, but it plays heavier, more dangerous. Colin Smith’s present at the borstal institution is woven with his past at home. He faces troubles in both places - among his fellow delinquents and at the hands of his emotionless mother following the death of his father. The flashbacks (though they don’t really feel like flashbacks) frequently occur when Colin is running. He seems to derive little enjoyment from running, but he does it just the same. He runs during the opening titles and just before the film’s end.
It’s this running of long distances that puts him in good favor with the borstal governor (played by Michael Redgrave), who hopes that Colin can defeat a local public school rival. Through the governor’s endorsement, Colin is able to climb the ranks of the borstal social system, at the expense of the former top runner who becomes so distraught that he tries to escape and ends up in solitary confinement. Colin tries to mitigate the damages, but he’s instead awarded unsupervised practice time to run the grounds. The governor lets it be known that a win against the school competition would bode well for Colin’s future freedom. Does he care though? Is that what’s really important, returning to his mother, younger siblings, and whatever man is currently sleeping in his father’s bed?
After he robs the bakery, but prior to getting arrested by the “coppers,” Colin discusses the idea of work and, essentially, capitalism with his girlfriend. “It’s not that I don’t like work. It’s just that I don’t like the idea of slaving me guts out so the bosses can get all the profits. Seems all wrong to me,” he says. Seems all wrong indeed. So that’s what he has to look forward to when Colin regains his life on the outside of the detention center? Admittedly, this speaks to me and my ideals and my sense of justice. Refusing to accept one’s place in the cogs of society strikes a chord. Even now, this film seems severely foreign to my American indoctrination. The land of the free, as long as certain segments are just a bit more free than others.
Obviously, though, the idea of freedom is subjective. By denying the cheering onlookers the satisfaction of a win that means nothing to him, Colin lacerates their expectations and demonstrates a self-reliant independence all too rare in film and life. How dare someone have different ideas of what constitutes success and accomplishment. There are strict rules of normalcy we’re constantly told to abide by. Otherwise, we might seem different or unique, heaven forbid. Sputtering to a stop, Colin half-grins his way to a defiant personal victory. It’s one of the most satisfying displays of rebellion I’ve ever seen on film.
Courtenay plays it with absolute brilliance, as he does throughout the picture. He has such a unique face, his eyes sunken in over a hovering brow that make him seem much older. That works to his advantage here, giving Colin an automatic weariness beyond his years. Both this film and Billy Liar seem nearly unimaginable without the actor. Hard to believe that he’d be doing Leonard Part 6 twenty-five years later. I’m sure there’s some quality films of his that I haven’t seen, but I’m not sure there’s anything else quite of this caliber from the decade. I know he intentionally avoided Hollywood roles and such, but he’s so impressive in these two films that there seem like a few missed opportunities inevitably passed him by. He does appear to have an upcoming film lined up for Peter Yates, with whom he made The Dresser, so hopefully that works out. (And who am I to question his level of success anyway - didn’t this film teach me anything? My concerns are admittedly selfish.)
As with Billy Liar, I rented The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and now they’re both on my (imaginary) to-buy list. I do wish there were some extra features on the R1 Warner Bros. disc. The image quality might be a bit worse than what Criterion did with Billy Liar and it’s presented 1.78:1 aspect ratio instead of its original 1.66:1, but it still looks very good. The BFI R2 went out of print last year and had a commentary I’d like to hear, but no subtitles. Thankfully, the R1 does have subtitles since I kept them on most of the film due to some of the accents being a tad thick for my ears. With the R2 discontinued, perhaps rights have changed hands and an even better release might pop up. I sometimes wonder why major studios and specialty labels can’t get together across regions and share supplements, as the BFI commentary would have been ideal for the R1. But then, I’m an idealist at heart.
The TCM Ten 9/15-9/21 September 14, 2007
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A good week for smaller, lesser-known movies. Most of the things I’ve highlighted I haven’t yet seen, but that’s part of the fun. All times are EST and program days begin at 6:00 AM.
Saturday September 15
8:00 AM Johnny Eager (LeRoy, 1942) - BW-108 mins. - I’m really not sure why this film isn’t already available on DVD. Van Heflin’s Oscar win alone would make one think that Warner Bros. should have released it a long time ago. Robert Taylor stars as the title character, a racketeer who gets involved with the DA’s daughter, played by a very young and very pretty Lana Turner.
11:30 PM The Mystery of the Wax Museum (Curtiz, 1933) - C-78 mins. - TCM is giving Fay Wray the night to celebrate what would have been her 100th birthday. Two-strip Technicolor was used for this film, as well as the Curtiz-directed Doctor X, which precedes this showing. It was also the original version of Andre De Toth’s better-known House of Wax starring Vincent Price. Stay tuned at 2:30 AM for Frank Capra’s Dirigible, also with the lovely Ms Wray.
Monday September 17
4:00 PM Seven Women (Ford, 1966) - C-87 mins. - John Ford’s final film, about missionary women in 1930s China trying to stave off Mongol bandits and other calamities. Showing in a six-film birthday tribute to Anne Bancroft, who would have been 76. The Pumpkin Eater, at 12:15 PM, and The Slender Thread, at 2:15 PM, both not on DVD, might be worth making time for also. Ford’s film isn’t available on DVD either, with rights controlled by Warner Bros in R1.
8:00 PM Something Always Happens (Powell, 1934) - BW-69 mins. - The first of two back-to-back early Michael Powell films recently unearthed from the Teddington Studios “quickie quota” library. These English-made films were produced for Warner Bros. More detailed information can be enjoyed at John Hodson’s “From the Cheap Seats” film journal.
9:15 PM Crown Vs. Stevens (Powell, 1936) - BW-66 mins. - Another of the Teddington Powell pictures, with Night and the City’s Googie Withers in a supporting role. There are an additional four more movies debuting as part of TCM’s “Lost & Found: Teddington Studios” - one more tonight and three more the following week.
Tuesday September 18
1:00 PM Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise (Leonard, 1931) - BW-77 mins. - The star teaming of Greta Garbo and Clark Gable is enough to make this interesting. I’ve never seen a Garbo picture that I unequivocally loved (even Ninotchka), but she was such a dynamic presence that I’d watch her in anything. Made for MGM and not yet released on DVD by Warner Bros.
Wednesday September 19
2:00 AM The 400 Blows (Truffaut, 1959) - BW-100 mins. - Not obscure and not in need of another DVD release (I think it’s the only movie Criterion has released three separate versions of on DVD), Truffaut’s debut film still deserves a mention because it’s something that I think will appeal to those unfamiliar with the French New Wave or Truffaut or Criterion. If you love film, this is an extraordinary experience that requires little contextualizing to enjoy.
Thursday September 20
8:00 PM The Killer That Stalked New York (McEvoy, 1950) - BW-79 mins. - The TCM guide says this will be the channel’s debut showing of this noirish crime drama about jewel thieves and smallpox. It sounds interesting, a little like Fox’s Kazan film Panic in the Streets, and I’ve never seen it. Director Earl McEvoy only helmed three pictures and died at the age of 49. The film stars Evelyn Keyes and features Dorothy Malone. It seems to be unavailable officially on DVD or VHS. IMDB says Columbia distributed the film theatrically so I suppose Sony controls R1 DVD rights?
Friday September 21
6:00 AM The Bamboo Blonde (Mann, 1946) - BW-68 mins. - Anthony Mann again. TCM programmers always seem to show as much of Mann’s work as they can, a welcome choice since he’s still underrepresented on DVD. This one is set during WWII and involves a nightclub singer and a pilot. Frances Langford stars with “This Is Your Life” creator Ralph Edwards and Jane Greer in a supporting part. Made for RKO so presumably Warner Bros. has R1 control.
12:45 AM Mask of the Avenger (Karlson, 1951) - C-83 mins. - I’m afraid I can’t be of much help here, other than pointing out that this film is supposed to air at this time. Director Phil Karlson made some interesting pictures, including Kansas City Confidential and Scandal Sheet, which was adapted from Samuel Fuller’s novel. IMDB only has 14 votes for this particular movie, but the TCM synopsis (Italian nobleman becomes an outlaw to avenge his father’s murder) sounds intriguing and Anthony Quinn stars.
The Collector September 12, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1960s , 1 comment so far
The Collector is a terrifying film, much more so than the dozens of progeny it’s spawned, either directly or not, in the forty-plus years since the film was released. The story of a man so obsessed with “collecting” that he catches another human being for the purpose of making her fall in love with him is disturbing for all the reasons the modern serial killer films are not. Everything we see in The Collector feels like it could happen and it’s told to the audience almost entirely the way any other movie would be. No jump-cuts, no shaky camera, no throbbing death metal. Nothing to distinguish it stylistically from a typical Maurice Jarre-scored love story. In fact, the same year The Collector was released, 1965, Jarre actually did score David Lean’s Doctor Zhivago, which was chosen by the AFI as the number 7 love story in the history of American movies.
I’m not crazy about Jarre’s work on The Collector, but I do think it adds an eerie quality indicative of the wolf in sheep’s clothing aspect found in Terence Stamp’s Freddie Clegg. A former bank employee who hit some sort of monetary windfall, Clegg buys a large piece of isolated property in the English countryside. He dresses very normal and clean-cut, speaks with emotionless calm, and is a psychopath. His target is Miranda Grey, an art student he’s observed for years without gaining the courage to talk to. Freddie’s solution to this bit of shyness is to kidnap Miranda and throw her in what is essentially a well-stocked dungeon. He thinks she’ll eventually fall in love with him once she gets to know the type of person he truly is. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work out quite like Freddie had hoped. Women, he finds out, are less submissive than the butterflies he captures in jars. If left in captivity long enough, the same result does occur, but only one of the two species can be pinned and framed.
The film was based on a popular novel by John Fowles published in 1963, two years before the big screen version. The structure of the book was apparently altered for the movie, with Freddie’s bank life reduced to a quick black and white flashback. Instead, we’re introduced to the collector in the film’s opening titles, hunting butterflies before finding a secluded house in Kent. The idea that this man views his hobby as an “entomologist,” as he later describes himself, much the same way he treats the pursuit and capture of his victim is obvious and intentional. Is there a larger point to be made though? Could such “collecting” be metaphorical for the vast need of man to essentially devour as much as he possibly can, be it material objects, sexual conquests, or anything else in his path? Humans are certainly a possessive lot, concerned less with need than want it seems, so such an analogy might fit. Like most of the questions I pose to myself when thinking about particular movies (in a non-pretentious way, of course), I really don’t know the answer, but it’s still fun to consider.
Something else I found interesting in The Collector was how director William Wyler and his screenwriters positioned the film as a demented love story. Stamp and Samantha Eggar as Miranda are the only two actors in the vast majority of the picture, feeding off each other’s conflicting styles. Both are absolutely superb. Eggar was nominated for an Academy Award and truly builds a dynamic performance out of her role, evolving Miranda from a somewhat spoiled, naive girl when she’s captured to a wiser, fully empowered woman by the end. Stamp (who couldn’t manage to surmount a stellar quintet of actors receiving Oscar nods that year - Olivier, Steiger, Werner, Burton and ultimate winner Lee Marvin) is so good the audience can never tell just how demented his character will be. I was even struck by a slight sympathy for Freddie at times. The closest cinematic relative I can think of from roughly this same time period would be Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom, made five years earlier, and Stamp makes Carl Boehm’s performance in that film look almost embarrassingly shallow.
The strength of the two central performances in The Collector allows the film to function, like the poster tagline, as “almost a love story.” Freddie and Miranda have the perverse equivalent of a courtship and, then, a domestic life. Miranda’s shocking inability to secure her freedom near the end, when she chooses instead to save Freddie from further injury and potential death, seems to indicate that she has developed some attachment to him (or that she’s unable to kill, depending on individual interpretation I guess, though the two aren’t mutually exclusive). While there’s no love or potential for future friendship, a bond was nevertheless formed between these two. What Freddie’s unable to understand is that even after Miranda gets to know him, she’s never going to feel love for a man who’s trapped her for weeks against her will.
In the realm of films where a psychotic shares a non-romantic bond with a young woman, there’s only one other halfway accomplished denizen that I can think of. That would be The Silence of the Lambs, Jonathan Demme and screenwriter Ted Tally’s take on the novel by Thomas Harris. Though there are many, many differences between the two book-to-film translations, it seems a little obvious that Harris was familiar with The Collector, either in its book or film incarnation. Buffalo Bill in the latter film is also collecting women (Freddie Clegg’s victims seem destined to multiply) in dungeon-type rooms, though for a far more sinister reason. The relationship between Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling is at least reminiscent of some of what we see in The Collector between Freddie and Miranda. Also, coincidence or not, The Silence of the Lambs book cover and film poster both prominently feature a moth, which is quite similar to a butterfly. And I’d wager it’s definitely not a coincidence that Sony slapped a huge butterfly picture on their R1 DVD cover for The Collector instead of using something more restrained like the original poster art.
Thankfully, it’s restraint in Wyler’s film that makes it seem so iconoclastic today. I can’t think of other prominent films of this time that dared go to the places The Collector takes us. Calling it ahead of its time almost seems like a disrespectful understatement. If you removed Jarre’s score, the film could be made today exactly the same and still feel fresh and different. Having said that, I’m pleasantly surprised no one’s remade it yet. If that ever happens, I can only imagine it would be a disaster on all accounts. The reason The Collector works so well is because no one was making these types of movies in the classic Hollywood mold at the time. What may seem tame today for lacking excessive blood and violence plays as a more organically creepy look at the mind of obsession. It’s not nostalgia that makes the film so engrossing when watching it now, it’s the shocking and unexpected removal of the Hollywood safety net for two hours.
(The Sony R1 DVD is overpriced with a mostly sharp, but inconsistent image and disappointingly free of extra features. Contextual material, not necessarily along these lines, but maybe discussion of Fowles and interviews with Stamp and Eggar, doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.)
The TCM Ten 9/8-9/14 September 7, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films , 3 comments
So far, so good. Here’s this week’s installment of ten things to watch on Turner Classic Movies in the U.S. All times are EST and program days begin at 6:00 AM.
Saturday September 8
11:30 PM The Picture of Dorian Gray (Lewin, 1945) - BW & C-111 mins. - Probably one of the more popular unreleased DVD titles at this point (rights controlled by Warner Bros.), Oscar Wilde’s story of the man who only ages in a painting was adapted quite well here by Albert Lewin, who also directed. I watched this several years ago so my memory is hazy but I can remember the abrupt bursts of color really stood out, as did Angela Lansbury’s Academy Award-nominated performance.
3:15 AM Lady Windemere’s Fan (Lubitsch, 1925) - BW-89 mins. - Oscar Wilde night continues with a Lubitsch silent starring Ronald Colman. Maybe not one of the director’s absolute best silent films, but probably in the upper echelon. And it’s hard to fault any silents being shown on television, much less one by Lubitsch. Available on R1 DVD in the “More Treasures from the American Film Archives” set released by Image. EDIT: TCM have apparently altered their schedule and are no longer showing Lady Windemere’s Fan as originally scheduled.
Sunday September 9
2:00 AM I, Vitelloni (Fellini, 1953) - BW-107 mins. - Criterion released a nice DVD of this so it’s easily available, but lots of people don’t want to pay twenty or thirty dollars for something they don’t know much about it and/or might be intimidated by an Italian language film directed by someone with the reputation of Fellini. The truth is that it’s a great little movie and probably Fellini’s easiest to enjoy if you’re not very familiar with his work. The film tells the story of five friends in a small coastal town and their adjustments to adulthood, for better or worse. For the night owls, Chaplin’s Modern Times follows at four.
Monday September 10
7:15 AM The Set-Up (Wise, 1949) - BW-73 mins. - This would have been Robert Wise’s 93rd birthday and I think The Set-Up, a gritty as they come boxing movie starring Robert Ryan, is his best film. The director made it to 91 before passing away two years ago this week and TCM will play nine of his films in a row to start their day. This one is on DVD, and in the first WB Film Noir set, but I think it’s good enough to still deserve a mention. It’s kind of hard to imagine that the same guy who made this also did things as diverse as The Sound of Music, The Sand Pebbles, and The Day the Earth Stood Still. A couple of his westerns, both unreleased on DVD and controlled by Warners, are playing later in the day - Blood on the Moon at 11:15 AM and Tribute to a Bad Man at 4:30 PM. The former stars Robert Mitchum and the latter has James Cagney. Both should be worth a look as well.
8:00 PM Some Came Running (Minnelli, 1958) - C-137 mins. - Two weeks in a row I’ve picked a Sinatra film. This is one of his (and Dean Martin’s) very best. It’s also the picture where Shirley MacLaine got her Rat Pack membership card. I have to think the DVD will be released soon from Warner Bros. It’s starting to look conspicuously absent with each new box set announcement from the studio.
3:30 AM The Harder They Fall (Robson, 1956) - BW-109 mins. - Based on a novel from Budd Schulberg, this was Bogart’s last film. He plays a defeated sportswriter hired by Rod Steiger’s boxing promoter to play publicist for a new fighter. Also starring Jan Sterling, the film was released on DVD by Sony, but then inexplicably taken out of print a couple of years ago when the studio discontinued several titles, including California Split and Bonjour Tristesse.
Thursday September 13
4:00 PM The Unsuspected (Curtiz, 1947) - BW-104 mins. - Claude Rains with a starring role, alongside Audrey Totter, in an interesting little noir about a radio crime series producer who commits the “perfect crime” and then uses the case on his show. Never seen it, but sounds interesting and those two actors sell it for me. Made by Warner Bros. and unreleased on DVD.
8:00 PM Private Screenings: Norman Jewison (2007) - C-60 mins. - The debut of a new entry in TCM’s original series where host Robert Osborne sits down with a notable figure of film to discuss their career. I think maybe Jewison is sometimes regarded as a lightweight director and not terribly appreciated. Still, all things considered, he’s had a pretty nice run. There’s some dreck in there (Bogus, really?), but In the Heat of the Night remains one of my favorites no matter how many times I see it. If you remove “Windmills of Your Mind” from The Thomas Crown Affair then I love that one too and I’m a big fan of The Hurricane also. Hal Ashby, a director I’m quite fond of, edited five of Jewison’s films from the ’60s and Jewison helped him out by producing Ashby’s debut The Landlord, in 1970.
Friday September 14
12:15 PM The Shining Hour (Borzage, 1938) - BW-77 mins. - Joan Crawford, Melvyn Douglas, and Margaret Sullavan star, with support from Robert Young and Hattie McDaniel. Here’s what I know: Borzage is terribly absent on DVD and this film’s screenplay was co-written by the poet Ogden Nash. Here’s what I don’t know: whether the movie is any good. The only way to find out is watch and see for yourself. EDIT: TCM has bumped this showing in favor of a tribute to the recently deceased Jane Wyman.
6:30 PM Nightfall (Tourneur, 1956) - BW-78 mins. - I’ll definitely be watching this one, a film with so many things going for it and a stellar reputation to boot. First and foremost, it’s based on a story by David Goodis, who wrote the source novels for the films Dark Passage and Truffaut’s Shoot the Piano Player. The director was Jacques Tourneur, an RKO veteran of the Val Lewton pictures and Out of the Past. Plus it features Anne Bancroft in her film debut. That’s all I need to know. I’m in. Never released on DVD or (I believe) VHS, with rights controlled by Sony, who are too busy releasing Ghost Rider and Spider-Man 1, 2, and 3 on Blu-Ray to be bothered with this kind of film. EDIT: TCM has also taken this showing off their schedule to make room for a slate of Jane Wyman films.
Attack of the B’s - Billy Liar, the British New Wave and Films Beginning with the Letter ‘B’ September 5, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1960s , 1 comment so far
Through a happy coincidence, the letter ‘B’ plays a vital role in this entry. For some unknown reason, I find myself drawn to films beginning with that letter, both in watching and in writing. I’ve written about this sort of ‘B’ film more than any other letter, as evidenced by my index. It’s not the number one letter among my DVD collection, but it’s one of the most popular nonetheless. I really have no idea why this is, but I do know it’s actually caused me to purposefully avoid writing about films beginning with the letter ‘B’ until things are more evened out. Equal opportunity and so forth.
I don’t know what my favorite ‘B’ film would be or why I’d really think about such a question, but when I went to check some of my favorite directors’ filmographies I noticed that Billy Wilder (whose given first name was actually Samuel and, thus, became a ‘B’ by choice) only made one film starting with ‘B’ - Buddy, Buddy, his last and most maligned. Nicholas Ray had two excellent ones, Bigger Than Life and Bitter Victory, and another that’s significantly less accomplished, Born to Be Bad. Fritz Lang also had good luck with the letter ‘B’ - directing The Blue Gardenia, The Big Heat, and Beyond a Reasonable Doubt, all excellent films. Enough of that, though.
The real reason for this latest ‘B’ odyssey was a recent viewing of John Schlesinger’s film Billy Liar. I’d put off watching it for a few years after reading some less than favorable reviews from persons I no longer remember and from whom I now would never trust. I don’t know a great deal about the film’s star Tom Courtenay or its director, aside from the fact that Schlesinger made Midnight Cowboy, a great film that scarred me enough when I saw it initially that I’m not really anxious to see it again. I don’t like reading very much about movies I haven’t seen prior to watching them so I knew only the barest of details. Superficially, I liked the Criterion cover (original poster art, something the folks across the river should do more often), but had avoided buying it because of the scant extra features. The film is just over an hour and a half and has only a commentary and brief excerpt from a BBC program as supplements.
So I rented it and now I’m unhappy. I wish I had just bought the thing. The transfer was nothing extraordinary but more than acceptable and I didn’t have time to listen to the commentary, but I really enjoyed the film. I also realized that I have to get over my slight bias against British films. I’m afraid that most Americans fall into one of two camps regarding (non-comedic) British films. There are the small contingent of Anglophiles who love everything. I’ve not encountered these persons myself, but I know they’re out there. Then there’s the majority of Americans who have a preconception that British drama is somewhat stuffy, overly serious or with slight humor that doesn’t make sense to those who get their laughs from hearty doses of knee to the groin slapstick. I’m really not in either category, but I do admit to having a significant gap in my cinematic knowledge where it concerns British film.
Right now, I’m working my way through the 1960s in anticipation of the next entry in the Lists Project I’ve posted about previously. That means the so-called British New Wave has to be accounted for in my viewing. Thus, I finally threw Billy Liar to the top of my rental queue. I don’t have a lot of experience with this particular movement, and it doesn’t look like very many titles are currently available in R1 DVD. I did recently watch Lindsay Anderson’s If…., which I enjoyed but it didn’t give me the same emotional tug as Billy Liar. That film left me fascinated with Tom Courtenay and his film career, which is surprisingly meager and undistinguished. His performance in Billy Liar is an epic achievement and possibly my favorite from a British actor whose last name isn’t O’Toole (technically born in Ireland, but usually regarded as English). I can’t wait to dive headfirst into The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner now.
There’s so much to empathize with in Courtenay’s Billy Fisher. Apparently Courtenay understudied for Albert Finney in the stage version, but stepped in to the film when Finney was unavailable. Again, having a limited knowledge of these actors’ performances, but I think Courtenay really nailed the vulnerability of Billy much more than Finney would have. The character is portrayed as very easy to like (at least for me) and one whom the audience can immediately relate to (again, at least I could). Courtenay was the same age I am today when the film was released, despite Billy’s age supposedly being 19, I think. This just adds to the power of the film though. If Billy really was a tad older, like Courtenay, like myself, then perhaps he would have matured a bit, but his problems would seem even more difficult and affecting.
There’s a comparison that I made, after seeing the film, of Billy to Elwood P. Dowd, as played by Jimmy Stewart in Harvey. One of my favorite lines in movie history is Dowd’s “I’ve wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I’m happy to state I finally won out over it.” This, to me, is exactly what Billy is doing and what he decides at the end of the film when he heartbreakingly chooses to let Julie Christie take the train to London without him. There’s an air of giving in to the fantasy version of life and letting it rule over you while every last catastrophe goes unnoticed. An approach that’s somewhat tempting, if you ask me. Ultimately, it’s unrealistic, of course, but it seems so much simpler in theory. Instead of dealing with the world’s travesties, you’re gunning down the people who cause you grief.
It’s part of the life as futile objective approach, and sometimes I find it a little too persuasive. Still, the fantasy elements of Billy Liar are only part of what makes the film such a beautifully idealistic look at the possibilities of young dreamers. Even though the ending feels like a devastating blow to the nonconformist ideal (I was literally fighting back tears), I think Billy Liar remains a positive statement that the Billy Fishers of the world can conquer this empty abyss of humanity. Billy’s youth ultimately seems as persuasive an argument that he might one day escape the suburban jungle as the deflating feeling the audience gets from his reluctance to take that fateful train in the film. Regardless, Billy’s choice doesn’t have to be the viewer’s. I know I’d like to picture myself as across from Julie Christie rather than battling Billy’s parents each morning.
Even if Billy isn’t all of us, he’s at least a part of many of us. When I look at my own experience, I see someone who went from a rural Southern town with a population of 1,900 to living fifteen miles away from the largest city in the nation. There’s work still left to be done, sure, but it’s a start. For me, Billy is an inspiration as much as a lesson in never losing sight of the magic of individualism. Schlesinger’s film breezes by and, when it ends, you really wish it’d go on a bit longer. I’ve read that there’s a television show somewhere about Billy, and, of course, the original novel from which the play and film were adapted. I’m not sure I really want to know any more though. I’m quite happy with the version I’ve seen and can’t imagine anyone else bringing more to the character than what Courtenay did.