Near the beginning of "Three Days of the Condor," Max von Sydow and his gang of hired hit men brutally murder in cold blood half a dozen harmless and unarmed civilians. At the end, von Sydow's character has a little speech that is supposed to make us sympathetic. He may kill for the group that pays him the most, but he is a sensitive man, a man of principle. But that initial mass murder, starkly depicted, is an unforgivable act. It was so repellant that the fact that he might know the Louvre inside and out became irrelevant.
I had the same problem with "The Private Life of Henry VIII." Charles Laughton gives a find performance, considering that it's so overplayed. But one expects a great big ham at a royal banquet. The difficulty is that the film begins with the tragic beheading of Anne Bolyne, Henry's second wife. And the preparations are dwelt on. The French headsman, imported for the occasion, spends forever sharpening his sword. There is reassuring talk about how it doesn't hurt. Happily the execution takes place off screen, as does the descending sword in "Anne of the Thousand Days," which tells part of the same story.
The king isn't at all put off by his wife's death. She had to make room for wife number three. He goes through half a dozen wives. In the last scene he turns to the camera and says, "Six wives, and the last one is the worst." And we're supposed to chuckle at the bad luck of this pompous, self indulgent, murdering curmudgeon who lives by hypothetical imperatives alone.
Laughton's performance can't be criticized. He shouts out orders and bullies everyone, man and woman alike. When he executes another wife for possible adultery, he weeps as he prays for forgiveness, "Mea culpa," but I don't believe it. He's never shown remorse in his life. Yet he injects some humor into the narrative. "There is no more delicacy," he complains at the dinner table, as he tears off a large piece of capon and slips the bones over his shoulder. Laughton has developed a walk that reeks of uncompromising authority, as he stomps around the castle.
I guess the contemporary audience enjoyed it. I didn't like it much.
I had the same problem with "The Private Life of Henry VIII." Charles Laughton gives a find performance, considering that it's so overplayed. But one expects a great big ham at a royal banquet. The difficulty is that the film begins with the tragic beheading of Anne Bolyne, Henry's second wife. And the preparations are dwelt on. The French headsman, imported for the occasion, spends forever sharpening his sword. There is reassuring talk about how it doesn't hurt. Happily the execution takes place off screen, as does the descending sword in "Anne of the Thousand Days," which tells part of the same story.
The king isn't at all put off by his wife's death. She had to make room for wife number three. He goes through half a dozen wives. In the last scene he turns to the camera and says, "Six wives, and the last one is the worst." And we're supposed to chuckle at the bad luck of this pompous, self indulgent, murdering curmudgeon who lives by hypothetical imperatives alone.
Laughton's performance can't be criticized. He shouts out orders and bullies everyone, man and woman alike. When he executes another wife for possible adultery, he weeps as he prays for forgiveness, "Mea culpa," but I don't believe it. He's never shown remorse in his life. Yet he injects some humor into the narrative. "There is no more delicacy," he complains at the dinner table, as he tears off a large piece of capon and slips the bones over his shoulder. Laughton has developed a walk that reeks of uncompromising authority, as he stomps around the castle.
I guess the contemporary audience enjoyed it. I didn't like it much.