gleywong Reviews

Karin's Face (1986)

Beauty in the eyes of the Beholder

[10/10 · 11 August 2004]

"Karin's Face" was shown as part of the Bergman retrospective organized by the National Gallery, the American Film Institute, and the National Museum of Women in the Arts. It was paired with his 1958 "Brink of Life" in an insightful match.

This is a surprising and lovely film, and thoroughly engrossing, given its brief length. Shot and framed with exquisite care, it validates a favorite past time and the value of looking at old photographs of family members to gain insight into one's self.

Amassing as many of the old photos as he could of his parents and grandparents, their relatives and offspring, Bergman takes long, lingering views of their faces, their hands, the expressions in their eyes and mouths, registering for us all, something special in the faces of siblings and relatives young and old. These are long loving looks, with no narration, just a piano playing a simple slightly abstract tune. It was quite moving to see, just through juxtaposition, what Bergman could lead us to think about how he regards his mother, father, aunts, uncles, cousins, -- anyone who was pictured, including himself as a boy.

This film recalled the movie "Best Intentions," of 1992, because the actors in that film really looked like his parents. What was striking in gazing at these photographs, was that Bergman's father had the more feminine face, with his soft features, large eyes, and receding chin; whereas his mother had the more masculine face, smaller eyes, strong jaw, intelligent but not stern. She was quite a beauty when young (her mother opposed the marriage, as in the movie) and being a parson's wife took its toll on her beauty, but instilled great character in her face, which never grew hard, as some faces can in old age.

Of particular interest was the fact that many of the faces of his relative had traits of the actresses, especially, that he favored, their expressions recalling them uncannily. One face looked very much like Liv Ullmann, and Bibi Andersson's features seem to resemble something of his mother's when she was young.

The simplicity and power of this film, its rhythm and pacing, earn Bergman a new epithet as a conductor, so musical did the entire piece seem to this viewer. Definitely recommended to all film goers who appreciate character development in cinema and abhor its absence in so many of today's films.

Brink of Life (1958)

Facing life squarely

[10/10 · 11 August 2004]

"Brink of Life" was shown as part of the exhaustive Bergman retrospective organized by the National Gallery of Art, American Film Institute, and the National Museum of Women in the Arts. The film curator at the NMWA paired it insightfully with "Karin's Face (1984)," a film of stills about Bergman's mother.

As the two previous reviewers have observed, this little-mentioned film is a classic of its own, dealing with a most challenging and difficult phase of life undeservedly neglected by directors, male or female. Numerous thoughts passed through my mind while viewing it. For those who have experienced some of the events in the film, it rings true. Bergman, with the assistance of the excellent script by Ulla Isaksson, is able to penetrate female psychology about this very elemental subject and to elicit powerful and honest performances from all of his actors. To say that Bergman proves himself to be both psychologist and psychiatrist of the female psyche would not be an exaggeration. But here in 1958 he feels no need for the pathology of "Cries and Whispers," or the sexual neuroses of "Persona."

The setting is "given," almost like a stage play, as it takes place in mainly two rooms of a hospital, and the situation of each of the three women, while different, might even seem a tad "set" or "canned." But as their situations unfold, and as we are drawn into each dilemma, we see how vital this inter-action is between them, between them and the head nurse, and between each of their spouses and lover. From the intensity of being alone (as we see in vivid closeups), their circle of life is gradually drawn wider, encompassing others and us in it. Ultimately, we see how this inter-action deeply affects each of them.

From the standpoint of film making, we can feel how much Bergman loved the archetype Woman, and felt compelled to present in as straightforward and sympathetic a way possible, without melodrama or sentimentality, her predicament as Child-bearer. We are given insight into her innermost fears (what woman has not feared pregnancy before marriage, or a miscarriage, or an abnormal or still birth, an indifferent lover or spouse?), and we are shown how some kind of closure or resolution might be offered through an honest reaching out and sharing of those fears with someone who listens and sympathizes without judgment. Bergman's genius was the ability to reach into the female psyche, to gain the trust of his actors, to allow them to reveal themselves in this most intimate and personal of human emotions and acts, and to make a statement about greeting and accepting life as well as death. He must have obtained this insight early on in life, and for that gift we must thank his mother Karin.

One final note about the men in these women's lives. Ingrid Thulin is matched with Erland Josephson, Eva Dahlbeck with Max von Sydow, and Bibi Andersson speaks on the phone with her lover. Both Josephson and Sydow look very young, much younger than the women appear. Josephson plays a role we seldom see him in, that of the rather unsympathetic spouse, a bit too caught up in himself and appearances.

His sister, interceding for him, is the beautiful and strong, but rarely seen Inga Landgr~{(&~}. Max von Sydow plays a young, very young husband to Dahlbeck -- he seems almost like an adolescent here, even though he was in the "Magician" the same year and "Seventh Seal" the year before. Bibi's errant young man is suitably absent

If we are to read their roles as legitimately portrayed, then I wonder what Bergman was trying to say about Man vis a vis Woman during this phase of pregnancy and childbirth? I hesitate to speculate, but it is almost one of helplessness, even fecklessness, in the face of a life force that is greater than himself.

In all a film of **** well worth searching for and best seen in company with "Karin's Face" if at all possible. I would recommend that all medical students see it, and anyone contemplating childbirth.

The Story of Three Loves (1953)

Shadows of Powell and Pressburger

[8/10 · 22 July 2004]

Several years ago, when I first saw this movie, I felt that it was melodramatic with awkward dialogue and clumsy direction, and not worth my time, except for the dancing segment with Moira Shearer and James Mason ("Jealous Lover"). After this recent viewing, I have a better appreciation of the finished product and wonder at the curious division of directors, Minnelli and Reinhardt, and committee of script writers, which may account for the structural and dialogue flaws in the film. Throughout the movie I had the curious feeling that the influence of the great team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger was haunting the producion. Both script and direction fall short of their work, such as "The Red Shoes" or Stairway to Heaven." Yet on this second viewing I still felt it worth my time.

First, the casts are well chosen and the camera loves them, especially the three female leads: Shearer, Caron and Angeli. One cannot find three more gorgeously photogenic and sensitive faces captured by Hollywood and its lenses than these -- and without excessive makeup. Being English, French and Italian (in that order), they also embody the international strength of post-war Hollywood, and are strong complements for the male leads, Mason, Granger and Douglas, all of whom made their careers in America (Mason was born English, I believe). These three leading ladies were certainly chosen for their youthful radiance and sensitivity, and the luminous close-ups plus the saturated color and lush music by the great Rozsa (who appears as the conductor in the first segment) lend a baroque richness to each of the segments reminiscent of Visconti's "Senso," or possibly even "Il Gattopardo."

Second, the camera work and lighting are excellent, both subtle and dramatic at the same time, fully enhancing the flashback aspect and sense of fantasy in all of the stories and revealing the delicacy and individuality of the three women, not to mention the great Agnes Moorehead in the first segment. The delicacy of Shearer, Caron and Angeli with the differences in each of their coloring and bone structure, contrasts dramatically with their respective male leads, the forceful articulateness of Mason (given an incredibly weak script stilted and overwrought when compared to P & P's dialogue for Lermentov in "Red Shoes"), the boyish tenderness of Granger in the second segment, and the snappy personality of Douglas in the high wire segment.

In the latter, which other reviewers seemed to like the least, I found Angeli's combination of vulnerability and inner strength very moving, all of the emotion held back, but pouring out of those great expressive eyes. Her subtlety provided the proper foil for Douglas's aggressive, almost animal energy and line delivery. I am not by any means a fan of

Douglas (except for his "Lust for Life"), but I liked him in "Equilibrium," and was impressed that most of the aerial stunts seemed to have been done by him. Certainly the circumstances of the war that led to Angeli's suicide attempt in the story lent a depth to the plot that was very much of the time and may be difficult for Americans to understand today. However, Europeans were still deeply affected by the war even in the mid-fifties (see "Act of Love," another film of Douglas's).

What each of the female stars gave to the film, as the focus of the "three loves" of the title -- Shearer in her role as a ballerina with the exquisite choreography by Frederick Ashton (celebrating the centennial of his birth this year); Caron, in an early non-dancing part actually using her French in the dialogue if not in the poems by Verlaine; and in Angeli cast as a victim of the war-- was a sense of authenticity and genuineness. I find these qualities very much lacking in the majority of American films, certainly those made by recent directors.

One final thing I liked about "Equilibrium" was showing how Douglas trained Angeli step by step in the high wire act to build up her strength and courage. One doesn't usually see this in a film. It also looked as if Angeli did her own stuntwork. Even if she didn't, it was effectively shot.

In all, a film worthy of renewed viewing. Of four ****, I give three and a half

The Comedians (1967)

The Iguana who came in from the Cold....

[9/10 · 20 April 2004]

The comments by the reviewer from Dubai, UAE, are much to the point, also recognizing the subtle jibes to the actors' roles in previous films. That Graham Greene wrote both the book and the screenplay, and was on hand during the shooting in Dahomey (information from a brief trailer on the recent TCM showing), gives a depth and complexity to the film that remind one also of Bunuel and Tavernier, in whose hands ironic humor and deadly politics are inevitably a subtext.

Peter Glenville seems not to have been a prolific director, and even his handful of films are not well know to American audiences (possibly "Becket" is an exception, though it has not been replayed in years), but his few works stand out for their dramatic quality, literacy and superb casting. He favored several of the seasoned actors seen here (many Shakespearean trained), Guinness (Prisoner, Hotel Paradiso), Burton (Becket). Once again, when the points of the magic triangle of script, director and cast come together in balance, the result is a superior film (of course we cannot omit the cinematographer, as chosen by the director).

"Comedians" has an unfortunate title that may have contributed to its demise for a popular audience. Its blatant irony belongs in the category of films in which the political matrix is the setting for the revelation (or non-revelation) of character. To name some outstanding examples: "The Third Man," "Spy who came in from the Cold," "Day of the Jackal," "Night of the Iguana," "Wages of Fear."

In this film, the pacing and structure are subtly conceived: even though there is a lot of random killing depicted, the quiet exchange between Burton and Guinness during the latter's escape is the eye of the tornado, with all else raging around it. The young James Earl Jones and other black actors give strong support, and are a match for the sad ennui of Ustinov's diplomat. Taylor, who sports a German accent as Ustinov's wife (the only time she's been called upon to do so?), discharges her role creditably, due in no small part to her chemistry with Burton and to his personal gravitas.

In all, this film and the director Glenville really ought to be better known. It is a sad commentary that a movie made about dictators in 1967 could still be so prescient.

A four **** movie.

The Seventh Sin (1957)

Absolving the Sin after the Seventh Veil drops

[23 March 2004]

Somerset Maugham's taste for exotic locales is used to good purpose in this story of how a doctor's wife "finds" herself after an extramarital affair. I happened to catch this film half-way through (missed Parker's affair with Aumont), however, the Chinese locale and the level of acting kept me watching until the end, especially as I had just seen John Ford's "Seven Women" recently on the TCM channel. The question is, why did Ford's movie fail (for me), and this one succeed? Both were shepherded by distinguished directors, and the casting in both is impressive --so should we fault the script? In fact, one might say that the Neame & Minnelli team elicted better performances than did Ford in his China setting. Despite the impressive cast and Bancroft's intensity, everything about Ford's film seemed "wrong," and the setting in China was totally incidental to the struggle between the two leading ladies. In "Seventh Sin," however, Parker's struggle seemed very real, despite her cool demeanor (what would Deborah Kerr have done with this role?), and her inter-action, and later friendship with the Mother Superior appears honestly won.

Unlike another reviewer, I did not think that Bill Travers' performance was wooden. His reticent honesty works well here. It is a decided contrast to the stagy performance he gave with Jenifer Jones in "Barretts of Wimpole Street," where he seemed to shout through his role (this movie failed for me on other counts, too). In "Seventh Sin," the casting of George Sanders as the sympathetic local who marries a Chinese works quite well as a foil to the bluff but kind Travers, and for once, Sanders acts against type and gives a commendable, unmannered performance. In fact he is quite likable and also mastered some Chinese for the role. His Chinese wife is not credited, but I found her acting to be stiff and lacking in warmth or charm; her accent and the year 1957 when the movie was filmed made it likely that she was had spent at least a decade in Taiwan, rather than being born in the "imperial" family that Sanders claims and escaping to Hongkong.

As for the Chinese/Hong Kong setting, one wonders whether it could have been interchangeable with Algeria, or Africa. Was it incidental to the plot, as one could argue with "Seven Women"? No, I don't think so.

A character like the one Parker portrays had to discover her inner resources in a foreign country, and among persons who were less than amenable to her -- the Chinese, whose language she didn't understand, and the sisters of the convent -- definitely an essential feature of the Maugham original. Francoise Rosay is particularly convincing as the Mother Superior; this is a role that cuts to the heart of the character (unlike Margaret Leighton's role vis a vis Anne Bancroft's in "Seven Women"). The Mother Superior is not a one-dimensional person, but someone who has lived and who ultimately is the one who understands Travers' final words. She is able to interpret them correctly for the Parker, thereby absolving the guilty wife of her personal anguish. This is a very moving way to end the story, and contrasts with the heroic but blatant staging of Bancroft's suicide in "Seven Women." These parallels may not seem obvious to others, but they kept cropping up for me as I watched it.

I think for those who are interested in how China/Hong Kong is presented in Western film (compare for example, with "Love is a Many Splendored Thing" or "Sand Pebbles"), and for the rendering of stories by literary authors such as Maugham, "Seventh Sin" carries a sincerity of tone which makes it notable. Also, anything directed by Ronald Neame ("Blithe Spririt," "Major Barbara," "This Happy Breed" and other distinguished films), not to mention Vincenti Minnelli, makes it is definitely worth a look.

Solomon and Sheba (1959)

Saved by Brynner

[16 March 2004]

Previous reviewers did not like this film, but it kept my attention to the end. Compared to other great biblical spectacles, this one has some true moments, due mainly to the strong cast and the director's restraint. This was King Vidor's final film. Remember, he made "The Great Parade,""The Crowd" and other early silent hits. What I liked about this film was Brynner's dignity and kingliness. For someone born a gypsy, Brynner had an innate aristocracy and gravitas; in any scene, he holds your attention and roots the action. And he could deliver the lines elegantly. Could you imagine Tyrone Power in this role? It would be a bit of fluff by comparison (remember him as the feckless husband in "Witness for the Prosecution"?), or perhaps, one might say, Power would have been an equal to George Sanders'surface play of the role.

Another thing going for the film is the consistent delivery of lines by all the actors. Most of the other players were English (Harry Andrews, David Farrar) or Italian (Lollobrigida, Pavan), or foreign, and that gave the dialogue a certain musicality. If all actors had been been "amurican," the tone of the dialogue would have been flatter and much less interesting to listen to. Probably the weakest actor was Lollobrigida, with her masklike visage. She delivered her lines credibly, but there was really no frisson between her and Brynner, (certainly not as there was between Brynner and Deborah Kerr), so that the love scenes came across as a tad dull.

As for the combat and action scenes, Vidor's background in silents shows in the way he holds back with the soundtrack, even as horses, chariots and warriors are running headlong over a cliff. The final sword fight between the brothers was certainly no 10-minute "Prisoner of Zenda", but it was not the fighting itself that was important, but the confrontation between the brothers themselves, reliving the Caine and Abel tragedy. The director is presenting the story as a parable of a failed brotherhood (regardless of how it jives or not with the Biblical text or historical accuracy) that bows before allegiance to a single God and social covenants, so the action is on a straight and simple level that some viewers may find too simple. This sense of the parable guides the actors' delivery of their lines, all with a distinctly measured rhythm that some may consider artificial, and others elevating, as if it were verse.

One can compare Vidor's approach in this film with the many other Biblical spectacles before and after (such as "David and Bathsheba," "Ben Hur," even "Spartacus"), and this movie comes out very "clean" in the battle scenes and refusal to focus on the blood and gore of battle. Vidor's pacing in the dialogue (not quite Shakespearean, but close to it) is consistent with the overall sense of restraint that he excercised.

The clarity of the film's message is reinforced by the costumes, which are openly differentiated as to Egyptian or Israelite,making it easy to distinguish the sides in the battle scenes.

Of five *****, three and a half, it's still worth watching as the swansong of one of Hollywood's great directors.

Before and After (1996)

There but for the grace of God....

[8/10 · 2 January 2004]

Reading the majority of comments about "Before and After," I wanted to guess the commentators'ages (mostly in their twenties - thirties?) and to assume that they were either childless or had never raised teenagers. As announced by the young voice when the movie opens, this is a story of daily life that was changed in an instant, and that afterwards, the family was never the same again. It sounds like a tautology, but most of our lives are not interesting enough as material for the movies, and it is a rare script and director that can show "daily life" and have anyone praise its results. Ordinary dialogue, too, is a challenge, because people as a rule don't speak in great cadences. Moreover, if one is looking at the movies today, anything that is not "family drama" contains a volley of expletives that passes for dialogue. So it is understandable that this movie did not rate high in the minds of the x-generation.

As a parent of teens, however, I found the film quite true to life. It's basically about how parents respond to a dire family crisis and how they must adjust to each other as a unit. We see how the son, as played by young Ed Furlong, is affected by the shock of this event. As an actor, his fine portrayal as the sensitive young writer in "Grass Harp" is a parallel role and should be mentioned. As for the parents, Streep was drawing on her experience as a mother of three and was not "acting" in the way one saw her in her obviously great roles, such as "Sophie's Choice" or "Out of Africa." This was a subtler challenge for her. With Neeson, also a father in real life, he chose to portray the father as impulsive, strong and the embodiment of unconditional parental love. I felt that the parents were meant to be somewhat opposites and complementary-- she contemplative, more intellectual and sympathetic, he aggressive, protective and reactive.

Some viewers were disturbed by the unbalanced and unsympathetic portrayal of the dead girl's mother and the dead girl herself. How could it be otherwise and not be told from Jacob or Jude's point of view? This is not "Rashomon" -- we were not meant to have different points of view defended. However, the very casting of the mother and of the girl friend as being less well educated and of a different "class," was obvious, and another "true thing" that often happens in families. Here, however,it is not the parents' disapproval that is important, but how they respond to their son's guilt.

Some viewers might say that my comments betray my being manipulated. Well, all viewers are being manipulated in any movie, and a measure of whether we like the movie or not, is whether we resent or do not mind being manipulated as the writer and director wished us to be. If someone watched this movie hoping for the suspense of a crime drama, they won't like it. If someone watched this hoping for dramatic acting as in the Oscar-winning roles of Streep or Neeson (I would have cited "Lamb" as his earliest and strongest), then they also would be disappointed. And if someone were watching this expecting something other than a presentation of daily life, then they would also be disappointed, because they would have found it flat, bland, even trite- until something dramatic, like the accident on Jacob's fateful date-- happens to jolt its members out of their routine and their complacency. That is what this movie is about.

I found myself agreeing with the entire gamut of the parents' reactions (which some viewers found "stupid"), but that is how parents (and even children) often behave in a crisis. I also found myself understanding both Jacob's and his sister's emotions. Jude didn't have many lines, but those she spoke were true and thought-provoking coming from a youngster of that age and maturity. One other crucial point is how the actors responded to each other as members of a family, and I found that they were not only well cast, but were all up to the challenge, delivering themselves quite honorably. This incident could have happened to any ordinary family, and there but for the grace of God, go I.

Of four ****, I rate three and a half.

The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1957)

Pater Pathology

[8 December 2003]

Throughout this film, I kept thinking of Director Wm. Wyler's adaptation of Henry James's novel, with Olivia de Havilland in "The Heiress." What made that a better movie? was it the casting? the directing? the actor chemistry? or all of the above? Previous reviewers of "Barretts" all praised Gielgud's acting, but I wondered why he accepted the role, or could stand himself in it. I could barely view him on screen, so wooden, so inhuman was his incarnation of Moulton Barrett: this was not a person, it was a caricature. Compare, instead, Ralph Richardson's interpretation of a similar emotion-starved and pathologically driven father in his love for his daughter.

As for the casting of Bill Travers as Robert Browning, I felt he lacked any subtlety, any "poetry" in his manner, any semblance of an understanding of female psychology or charm, most of all, lacked any chemistry with Jones as Elizabeth. He seemed to be barking all of his lines as if he were on the football field. Can you imagine his role cast instead with, say David Farrar, or one of the Ealing Studio regulars? Fans of Jennifer Jones may still want to sit through this movie to see her conception of the poetess. But when we compare this role with her performance in, say, "Wild at Heart [Driven to Earth]," the great Powell-Pressburger film, or even "Madame Bovary," it falls far short of full realization. In those films, she revealed passion, coyness, charm and geniune fear, gripping us with the emotions of her predicament. As noted by another reviewer, here she appears far too healthy, even too mature (although that would be an accurate estimation of her actual age when she met Browning, according to her biography) to be believable. Of course we can accept some cinematic license -- we don't have to expect that Mimi should actually be consumptive in "La Boheme"--but Jones's conception confused strength of character with bodily health -- her fainting on the stairs was almost a joke, more a sign of her rare weakness as an actress. In fact, one actually felt more pity for her sister, as portrayed by Virginia McKenna, in a lively,deeply felt role, in which we feared for Henrietta's emotional health and future in that stifling household.

So, shall we lay the blame at the foot of the hapless director Sidney Franklin? All the settings, the costumes, even the lovely tune, beautifully sung by Jones at the piano should have offered the right support. The clumsiness of the production is almost encapsulated in that little scene around the piano: when Jennifer sings it (whether or not she herself indeed voiced it), there is lyricism and musicality, and one longs for her to continue, but everyone, namely her brothers, is urged to join in. None of them can really sing, they shout out the melody, drowning Elizabeth's soprano, and the whole scene, at least for this viewer, is ruined. Just like the movie.

Of a possible four ****, I give it my lowest rating one star*.

Clash by Night (1952)

Fritz Lang in Malibu

[6 December 2003]

Why did Fritz Lang want to make this movie? Did he select the cast? "Clash by Night" was part of the recent TCM tribute to Lang, and following after the early European masterpieces, "Metropolis," and "M," one wonders how much Lang modified and compromised his early filmmaking ideals and style in resettling in Hollywood and jockey for financial support. I've not seen or read the original Odets play on which the film is based, but whatever Lang's reason for choosing it, one has to ask how the finished movie fits into Lang's output, especially the stark, powerful, stylized early pieces. A couple of features stand out: Lang always had a message-- nothing was mere observation -- that shaped the plot and characters' motivations. If Good and Evil stand out too sharply in black and white terms, Lang is still intent on sharp analysis of the turns and twists on the road to Good or Evil. Forces beyond individual characters' control are harnessed and made part of the characters motivations. Then Lang sets them on their inevitable course, and we watch, sometimes in shock or agony.

In "Clash," the imagery-- contrasting shots of sea, clouds, birds,etc, register his endorsement of the natural order of things as Good. In Metropolis, the natural order of humanity toward others was stamped out by the drive for materialism and industrial supremacy, Evil (historically predicating Nazism), symbolized always by the grinding and spouting machinery. All of the characters are tuned to a high pitch and respond with intensity. Lang's style of directing brought out the extremes -- the fortissimos-- in his actors, no matter whom he cast. Lang must have been an extraordinarily demanding director to elicit such razor-edge performances from his actors.

The fact that all the actors in "Clash" are familiar to us from other films meant Lang had to pit them against each other to an even keener degree. They are all desperate for something, whether they reveal it on the surface or not. For an actress like Stanwyck, this was an easily achieved emotional state, and she had to accept the concept of "aging" in her role. If anything, Lang forced her to keep her hard edges up a bit too much, allowing some softening only in the rather quick ending. This bit of character transformation happens only after she sees the true desperation that she's driven Paul Douglas to in the final scene in the film room.

Ah, yes, the film room. If that isn't an obvious set piece, I don't know what is. Ryan, as the third wheel, runs the projectors. Much of his dialogue is double-edged. And Ryan's character is the most desperate, the least yielding, even to Stanwyck, making his profession as a film projectionist ironic and something artificial, compared to the "natural" metier of Douglas and his father's as fishermen. They draw on the bounty of nature and so symbolize -- purposely and obviously -- pure goodness in human nature. Douglas gives a generous, sweet-tough-guy performance that is Ryan's match. Douglas never guesses what temptation he presents to his wife Stanwyck when he casually invites his best friend to stay with them. This generosity extends in particular to his overlooking faults, whether of his leeching uncle or his friend's sarcstic selfishness.

The role of the father, as a link to the Old Country and its solid gold ways is well-placed. His speech at the wedding puts his character in a nutshell: God made love, God made wine, God made friends, let everyone enjoy them, or some such pithy message. For a filmmaker like Lang, and other transplanted Europeans, the sacrifice of deep roots of their heritage and language could only be compensated for by an equally deep absorption of the customs and values of the New Country. Emigré geniuses like Lang, Wilder, or von Stroheim, never left anything behind, they reabsorbed and refashioned their material through their sharp perception of human nature in this new context. I think that is why we feel this movie to be beyond mere melodrama. I couldn't stop watching it -- the characters caught me in their predicament: they reach a universal dimension in the very simplicity and obviousness of their situations and temptations. Lang's role was to push them to that level recognition in themselves.

Even the seemingly secondary characters like Stanwyck's brother and his girlfriend, the latter played surprisingly and delightfully by a young Marilyn Monroe, give strong performances. Marilyn already shows her subtlety and emotional vulnerability. Her spontaneous response to Stanwyck's return to her brother's apartment at the beginning revealed a genuine charm, and she provided a needed sparkle in this otherwise grim film.

So why see "Clash"? Even a secondary work by a master bears his mark, and to see the mark and its features in the context of film history is still a worthwhile effort.

Of Four ****, three ***.

Hotel Reserve (1944)

Where were you Alfred, when James needed you?

[7/10 · 29 November 2003]

One wonders what this movie would have become if Hitchcock had gotten his hands on it. Would he have revved up the plot, tightened up the script, recast some of the characters, put in a highway chase over the countryside interrupted by sheep, added a more appealing female interest for Mason? The climb up to the roof at the end, the strong lighting and direct closeups, the art and photographic direction(seemingly uncredited to one of the directors),as well as the music score and the general "look" of the film, not to mention James Mason's compelling presence all had the ingredients for a potential Hitchcockian thriller, but something is missing here. The plot's not that complicated (certainly not like "The Lady Vanishes") and there seems not to be enough risk or sense of danger (certainly not like "The 39 Steps")to Mason's life, although there is suspense and surprise along the way. One big weakness is the supporting cast. The young lady's character (can't even remember her name) isn't developed enough, nor does she have sufficient charm or sex appeal, as a Hitchcockian heroine would.

Still one watches it for Mason, before he has developed any overt mannerisms or been sadly type-cast as a villain. He seems to have made a number of these not-quite-up-to-snuff pictures in his career. Was he hard up? why didn't Hitchcock cast him and why didn't he ever accept a Powell & Pressburger offer? His presence on any number of these "grade-b" films, including the brief appearance in "Madame Bovary" (with Jenifer Jones), for example, or in the disappointing "Mayerling," adds a sense of gravitas to any of the proceedings in which he appeared, but the scripts and directors fail him, if not the cast.

Fortunately, he can be remembered for his appearance as Captain Nemo in "Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea," and Sir Randolph Nettleby in "Shooting Party," both of which tapped his natural dignity and aristocratic bearing and surrounded him with a worthy cast. See those for Mason at his best.

Of four stars****, two and a half.

Miss Match (2003)

Light and fun

[27 September 2003]

Miss Match is light and fun, and touches just enough on serious themes (like fear of being alone) so the show isn't entirely superficial. Alicia Silverstone is very appealing and likable. Some of the supporting cast is a bit weak, but overall the show is surprisingly good.

The MacKintosh Man (1973)

More than what it seems

[30 August 2003]

Hitchcock appears to be the ghost that is haunting John Huston in this flick. Or should we say that it is Huston's homage to Hitchcock that we have here, and which seems to either spice up, or overburden the film, depending on who the viewer is. The cinematography, lowkey brown color palette and restrained performances -- allowing the vivid "action" to move the plot-- all have shades of the later Hitchcock movies like "Topaz" or the one with Newman himself in it, "Torn Curtain." In fact Hitchcock made only one more film after the 1973 date of "Mackintosh Man," so we are witnessing something which could be interpreted as an effort on Huston's part to continue that legacy. Some specific parallels are, for example, Newman's struggle in the river to strangle the killer-dog set on him during his escape echoing the struggle in the farmhouse to kill the Russian agent ("Torn Curtain"). Or the mad car chase over rocky Irish roads by Newman and Sanda, mimicking the inevitable car chases patented by Hitch in various of his early b/w films, such as "The Man who Knew too Much (w/ Donat)" or "Young and Innocent".

Another parallel can be seen in the casting. Besides Newman himself, there is Huston's selection of the mysterious Dominique Sanda, one of Europe's most sensuous stars, whose appeal mirrors Hitchcock's obsession with the cool blonde beauty of Grace Kelly, Eva Marie Saint or Tippi Hedren.

Then, too, we have the eloquent James Mason in a late role commanding the opening of the film in the House of Lords by holding forth in the grand manner. But we should guess that he is here a Hitchcockian anti-hero, one in the mold of Phillip Vandamm from Hitch's monumental "North by Northwest." More parallels could be drawn, but for the mise-en-scene, Huston does one up on Hitch by actually filming in Ireland and Malta.

As for the plot it appears to have the tempting multilayered complexity of a typical English thriller, such as those in which Michael Caine appeared before he was swallowed up by Hollywood. If there are plot densities, we are after all, dealing with agents and double-agents, and things can get knotted up. In what other country than England could upperclass spies -- traitors-- be celebrated in literature and movies like the agents Philby or Blunt? Newman's adversaries are gentlemen, but not what they seem to be. We even get an idea of what an English prison is like and the quantities of laundry that they do. Last of all, who is Mrs. Smith? A name deliberately chosen for its opaqueness. Is she convincing as Mackintosh's daughter, or is she merely an agent, and not even a double agent? Yes, there are holes in the plot, but overall, the performances and Newman's Great Escape make up for the plot weaknesses.

Of four ****, three and a half. Still a must for fans of the director Huston, or the stars Newman, Mason or Sanda, and the many supporting stalwarts of British b/w postwar movies and Masterpiece Theatre productions.

For Me and My Gal (1942)

Genuine Stars in Uniform

[9/10 · 25 June 2003]

Despite their huge reputations and talent, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland have never been my favorites. For dancing and singing I would prefer Fred Astaire, who did both with consummate flair.On second thought, however, there really was noone like Judy Garland, for either dancing or singing. Her singing talent, god-given, nurtured and ultimately exploited, overshadowed her dancing talent. But in this movie, she does both equally well. Later Kelly would build his fame on his dancing, but here, when the two are dancing and singing together, Garland's star quality outshines Kelly's by megawatts. While they are dancing, Garland catches our attention, not Kelly, a sure sign of her superior talent.

This movie surprised me. I couldn't stop watching it, and not because the plot was so exciting. When this happens, I credit the director as much as the actors. Previous reviewers seemed to like "For me and my gal" for different reasons -- I definitely think that the movie owes its success to Busby Berkeley. He was a seasoned director, best known for his complex kaleidescopic dance routines, shot from above. There are no such shots here. Instead, we see Berkeley marshalling the troops on their way to the front, and on their return. We also see an "art imitates life" type of plot that very much could echo both Garland's and Kelly's career. Berkeley is able to elicit very fine performances from everyone, including the supporting roles. They are not yet caricatures, which would eventually happen in some of the later Hollywood musicals. George Murphy does a nice job as a loyal friend (he's not summarily dismissed in this secondary role), and Martha Eggerth, who I'd not heard of before, sings and plays a genuine diva. Her style and artful singing lift the movie to another level, adding a fine European touch -- almost in reach of Lubitsch -- as well as being a catalyst to bring out one more aspect of Kelly's opportunism.

Garland was almost in mid-career here, and she still looks very youthful. But this was Kelly's first film, and I would have expected him to have a more boyish quality about him. His determination to become a STAR shows through the character he portrays. For a first effort, Kelly discharges himself admirably, but the character is almost a premonition of the type that he would play for the rest of his career: the talented but over-eager male chauvinist who gets by on plenty of charm and chutzpah (see especially his "Les Girls" and even his plum "American in Paris," probably his finest role.) There are no soft edges in Gene Kelly. As for Garland, she was by now a veteran actress, and it shows in the subtlety and vulnerability of her performance. The marvel is how her gorgeously rich voice is spun so nicely into her role; the voice has no hard edges -- yet. We will begin to hear a bit of forcing toward the end of her career. Garland's talent was like a meteor-- shooting across the sky and lighting up others'. She could leave the viewer breathless because she put so much of herself in a role. This is certainly one of Garland's finer performances (a match for her later "A Star is Born," where her natural beauty if marred by too much makeup). There are no lavish sets or costumes or even dance scenes, just the backup men in uniform. But because of the vaudeville routines that are part of the plot line, she and Kelly deliver some of the greatest songs and dances. There's not even technicolor to distract the viewer.

Reviewers ought to remember that this movie was made in 1942. We had just entered the war (Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941) and feelings for the troops were high. One has even to wonder where Berkeley found all of the men to put into the movie -- weren't they supposed to have been drafted? Just think about the masterful "Life and Death of Colonel Blimp" shot by the great Powell and Pressburger team in 1943. Michael Powell commented that he had trouble finding enough men to fill his scenes: in one large group shot, he had to use dummies in uniform. (We in the US obviously had more civilians in 1942, but I wonder about that...) The fact that Garland loses her brother, and that Kelly tries to dodge the draft to further his/their career are two unpleasant aspects of wartime that we do not like to think about, but are very real and not glossed over here.

This film ought to be better appreciated. Of four stars ****, I would give it a maximum rating ****, because it delivers more than it promises. Viewers who expected more from it are missing its more subtle dimensions.

The Burmese Harp (1956)

Japanese soldiers as officers and gentlemen, plus one Buddhist

[4/10 · 15 June 2003]

This is a justly famous film and well-received by reviewers, however, I could not watch the film without a sense of ironic detachment, especially when it is a Japanese filmmaker who is making a movie about his country's soldiers during WWII, and in a spot made notoriously hot for their enemies, Burma.

I could not but feel that whatever the good and pacifist intentions of the scriptwriters and director, that there was a disingenuousness about the depiction of Japanese soldiers as polite and caring gentlemen who could do no wrong. The key character here who saves the film is Mizushima, the one soldier who defects to become a Buddhist priest, and is not only outstandingly musical, but also able to "look like a native" Burmese, when wearing a sarong. Mizushima has the symbolic role of the Japanese conscience after the aftermath of WWII, when countries who were attacked and subjugated by the Japanese were still reeling from the atrocities suffered at their hands. The fact that only one female, that of an old Burmese woman, appears in this film -- she conducts friendly exchanges of fruit with the soldiers -- is another ironic detail, when one remembers that scores of women and young girls were raped and prostituted by Japanese soldiers in virtually everyone of their occupied countries.

Is one to take the skillful filming -- all the poetic shots of scenery and of actors' faces admired by other reviewers -- at face value? Mizushima, the soldier who fails to convince the holdouts to surrender (the only reference to Japanese fanaticism), is the only one who undergoes a spiritual change by the war and who suffers any guilt: he not only rejects further killing and his life as a soldier, but he alone rejects his nationality; this is signified by his desire not to return to Japan with his fellow soldiers at the end of the war. As part of the cast, there is a role for a pair of talking parrots, who have been trained to mimic the pleadings of his compatriots to return to Japan. They offer a light but additionally ironic touch to contrast the difference in Mizushima's and the other soldiers' attitudes. Nowhere in the film, except in the stance of passive resistance that the Buddhist priest is known to take, do the soldiers or the filmmakers acknowledge the aggression of their own country as the cause of the war and reason for all these deaths. On the other hand, the "enemy" is also emasculated of his adversarial role by the filmmakers' particular stance, and the viewer is made to feel that the Japanese seem to have felt no enmity toward them. Was I alone in this reaction?

Music, moreover, plays a particularly important role: hearty choral singing-- especially using the tune "There's no place like home" -- and harp playing are offered as palliatives to the director's pacifism. In this movie, the harp is a fascinatig symbol. Now I have never heard a Burmese harp, but have listened to much harp music. I wonder whether the music heard over the soundtrack could possibly be that of the instrument that we actually see: what we see is a relatively simple lyre, with no more than an octave range of strings; it undergoes considerable banging about as a result of being carried around on the shoulder, and we never hear it being properly tuned. Yet when the soldiers sing and the harp joins in, it sounds like a Healy concert harp with deep bass resonance. While I enjoyed and admired the music, I also felt that the director was manipulating the listener's emotions more than necessary.

Am I being too literal? Should I be suspending judgement and accepting the whole movie as an allegory? I wonder. When a film is shot in sharp and shadowy black and white, as if it were a documentary, and we see actual scenery and sunsets, it is difficult to suspend judgement, yet that is what the director is asking us to do.

The upshot of my reaction is that, I feel it is a film worth viewing for the forceful viewpoint of the director, but that the viewer need be forewarned that it represents a white-washed, factually romanticized, conscience of the filmmaker. On a very distant opposing scale of values, may I recommend the films of Ozu Yasujiro. His post-war films speak eloquently of the effects of war on the daily lives of people of conscience, yet without histrionics and without having to even mention the word "war" or "soldiering."

Of four **** stars, I would give it three***.

My House in Umbria (2003 TV Movie)

Tea in an Umbrian April

[7/10 · 28 May 2003]

A great vehicle for Maggie Smith in a quintessential survivor movie, "My House in Umbria" delineates her flowering as an "earth mother" among the victims of a train bombing. It's gorgeously filmed and her house is beautifully appointed, a testament to her success as a novelist of romantic tales and a positive view of life that has helped her earn her living. She's well supported by the rest of the cast, including young Amy, but I found Amy's uncle, played by Chris Cooper, to be a total dud. Yes, he's supposed to be crass and unfeeling, but I kept hoping for a shade of redemptive charm in his personality, and was disappointed up until the very end, when he finally gave in to higher wisdom, and fortunately didn't show up on the screen. (I found his lack of facial and vocal expression like a martian Harrison Ford shot through with botox...). On the opposite spectrum of facial expressiveness was the veteran actor Giancarlo Giannini, whose craggy face and voice carried the much-needed intensity of Italy needed to match the setting. He was necessary to offset the overly English or American weight of the cast, even with the one German.

"Umbria" reminded me of both "Tea with Mussolini" and "Enchanted April," both of which starred Joan Plowright in a similarly benevolent role. Joan is more "salt of the earth," whereas Maggie is the "pepper," the two giving tremendous spice to whatever they act in. Here Maggie is allowed some glamour( a different silk outfit in each scene, beautifully coiffed hair), but she didn't flinch when she had to be knocked about after the bomb explosion.

I can see that like Judi Dench and Joan Plowright, actresses of Maggie Smith's calibre are in constant search of good directors and good scripts -- vehicles with humor, dignity and some adventure for their rich humanity. These are hard to come by. "Umbria" would have been perfect but for the unfortunate casting of the uncle.

Of four ****, three-and-half because of the casting flaw.

Flight Command (1940)

Comraderie in the air and on the decks

[7/10 · 25 May 2003]

"Flight Command" was shown as part of the TCM Memorial Day series, and it deserves to be remembered for its excellent performances by the leads and all the supporting players, as well as the air scenes of single-engine planes flown by the squadron of Navy pilots. There is a lesson in their comraderie which is all the more moving when one considers the 1940 date and the skilful stuntwork of the planes for its time. Walter Pidgeon gives a classic performance, both strong and vulnerable, for which he will become better known in later films, and Ruth Hussey, usually in a secondary role, puts in a sensitive and generous performance as the "skipper's" stalwart wife in a part that could have been given to Myrna Loy. I am not a fan of Robert Taylor, but I felt he gave one of the more honest of his performances, and his good looks did not for once detract. Ruth's brother in the film, Shepperd Strudwick, hardly a known name, was well-cast as the outgoing, daring inventor working on a fog-navigating device. Between Pidgeon's Apollonian personality and Taylor's Dyonisian charm, Strudwick's relaxed and interestingly handsome face reminded me of Joseph Cotton in having a natural sense of gravitas in his manner.

Even though the plot was not a complex one, the different character relationships, whether between the pilots themselves, or of the perceived triangle of Taylor, Hussey and Pidgeon, was sensitively handled, and the several tricky maneuvers demanded of the pilots kept me glued to the screen. Credit should be given to the director, Frank Borzage, for coaxing such balanced performances from the cast. As for the supporting roles, Paul Kelley and Red Skelton (apparently in his first film appearance) both deserve mention, as do the script writers. The situations and dialogue appear routine, but nothing that is said or done is hackneyed or banal.

Of four ****, I would give it a highly recommended three***.

A Woman Rebels (1936)

Movie in search of a director and a soul

[15 May 2003]

*Spoilers*

With a tempting cast of Kate Hepburn and Herbert Marshall, and a strong title to boot, this movie was a frustrating disappointment. The actors seemed cast adrift in a ship without a rudder. "Woman Rebels" was shown as part of the recent TCM special on Kate Hepburn's birthday, with early pre-code movies from the 30's and 40's, when she was already in her mid-twenties, and it followed the 1933 Dorothy Arzner classic "Christopher Strong." Now THAT is a movie with a solid script and a director who knew what she wanted to say and what to do with her stars. It's no accident that the director was a woman.

In "Woman Rebels," the story, which is pretty simple but appears to have been written by committee (three writers are credited), still left certain details dangling, such as why does her stern and unforgiving father (Donald Crisp, here woefully underused and misdirected) appear only in the beginning and inexplicably at the end? or exactly whose baby was she raising, and why aren't we(or she) clear about it? Or take the casting; besides the principals, Hepburn's "daughter" is played by an actress (Elizabeth Allen) who, when grown up, looks older than her aunt (Hepburn) who is supposed to be twenty years her senior. That bothered me constantly.

As for Herbert Marshall, he is given a simpering one-dimensional role, supposedly of a diplomat, that relegates him to merely standing in the wings commiserating, while Kate does her "rebelling" by running her newspaper and commenting on social issues. The latter is all well and good, but the context is so limited, and the supporting roles all so weak that we are pained to watch her.

One wonders how Hepburn accepted this role after putting in such a sterling performance at age 26 (and only her second film) for Arzner in "Christopher Strong." That movie should have been named "A Woman Rebels," instead of giving the title, as others have noted, to Kate's love interest-- her friend's father, a gentleman also ultimately and sadly too weak in character to match her strength (wouldn't you guess that he would ask her to give up flying and not care a hoot that she might be pregnant?) The daring plot of "Christopher Strong" must have been startling at the time, and even today, it can be viewed with some wonder at the taste and delicacy with which it was done. Reviewers mention that Kate's role in that was modeled after Amelia Earhart, but I believe it is closer to Beryl Markham ("West with the Night") in its daring and literate spirit. Juxtaposing that 1933 film with "Woman Rebels" makes one rue the fact that even after taking ten steps forward, only three years later she would have to take fifty steps backward. Hepburn would have to wait almost ten years to be paired with Spencer Tracy before making a recovery film worth her salt.

The Great Garrick (1937)

The prompter saves the day

[6/10 · 11 May 2003]

Kudos for this under-rated costume farce. It was included in Olivia de Havilland's TCM special, but she has a relatively small though choice role in it. Brian Aherne is surprisingly good as Garrick, the leading English actor of his day, cutting a tall, strikingly handsome figure in rococco-wear and powdered wig, delivering the staged lines with considerable panache. He is certainly every bit a match for Errol Flynn and the movies he shared with de Havilland, but it's a mystery why Aherne was only cast in this one. Olivia was quite young and very radiant, playing a mistaken-identity sweetheart-contessa type that she will repeat many times, possibly too often, in her career(eg, The Ambassador's Daughter, Princess O-Rourke). The take-off on the Comedie Francaise as bungling ham actors is priceless in itself. Certainly the director, screen writer and anyone else who took part in the production should be noted, for the fast, slightly frenetic pacing of the lines and timing of the repartee are key aspects of the success and they weren't necessarily transferrable to other movies by the same director and writer.

Special notice should be given to Etienne Giradot, who plays the prompter with a conscience who gets batted about for speaking the truth and showing up his jingoist "betters" with his honesty. His intermittent appearances, starting at the beginning and then at the end, in his prompter's box, are almost worth the price of admission. Those who have seen "The Kennel Murder Case" with William Powell, will remember Giradot as the doctor/undertaker who never gets to finish a meal. With an actor of such a unique personality, yet so perfectly cast in both supporting roles, one wonders whether if he was simply playing himself, or whether the parts were tailored for him. Four stars **** out of four.

The Scapegoat (1959)

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

[4 April 2003]

As part of a birthday celebration of the late Sir Alec, TCM placed this seldom shown character study in between two hilarious Guinness farces, "Hotel Paradiso" and "All at Sea." In combination with "The Malta Story," "Scapegoat" allowed Guiness to indulge both his more serious dramatic inclinations as well as play another double role, something for which he was a master. His "Kind Hearts and Coronets" is the tour de force of this genre of multiple identities.

This adaptation of Du Maurier's novel has also the advantage of five strong female leads, three of them, Bette Davis, Irene Worth and Pamela Brown, known in their own right for their dramatic achievement. Actually, all of the supporting roles are excellently cast, even to the faithful manservant, Gaston, and especially the count's precocious and very articulate daughter.

Bette Davis, as the matriarch, sets the tone for neurotic tyranny in this family; but it is a role that could have been less of a caricature if Dame Wendy Hiller had played it instead (See Dame Wendy in "Murder on the Orient Express" for the epitome of "noblesse oblige.") In the role of the wife, Irene Worth gains some of our sympathy as the high-strung and beautiful, sensitive but persecuted spouse unable to give the count a male heir. Her mobile and expressive face is a perfect foil to Guiness's stoic reserve.

As the count's sister, Pamela Brown's natural reticence and grave air, her huge luminous eyes and rich voice (which can be savored in an earlier role in "I Know Where I'm going") made her a likely choice in the role of a sibling, however, the differences she shares with her brother are not resolved nor explained, neither is her motivation for being so antagonistic toward him. In other words, through the eliptical, somewhat ambiguous dialogue, there is a history or subtext of sibling rivalry of which we must remain ignorant. (Perhaps the novel delineated this more clearly.)

Despite the strong and balanced cast, I found the ending a surprise and a slight disappointment. For me it failed to resolve Guiness's relationship with the other females save one, his lover. Therefore, despite the putative attempt to plumb his character, it remained an identity problem hardly more than skin deep. Still, all in all, it is a fascinating attempt and a rare chance to see Guinness in a noncombative drama with strong females, somewhat like a diamond set among a ruby, emerald and pearl.

Of four stars, definitely a strong three*** for the excellent cast.

Malta Story (1953)

Stirring from both land and air...

[3 April 2003]

Having never had a chance to visit this island, nor been made aware of its importance to the allied forces during WW II, I appreciated the snatch of history of Malta and its inhabitants and of the incredibly impressive air shots of the RAF at work. Other commentators say much of this footage is archival; if so, then the editing is commendable, as is the transitional camera work, which is virtually seamless. In this day and age when so many battles and flight scenes are achieved by graphic simulation, I feel there is a sense of integrity in this film that cannot be easily duplicated today, regardless of all of the technology at our disposal. This is perhaps the quality of Ealing studios at work.

The black and white graininess of the film also gives it a documentary feel -- the strong light and shadow of the landscape shots of air, water and rocks that give us the vivid sense of place -- remind me also of Italian verismo cinema and reinforce that impression.

As for the acting, I did not feel it in the least "wooden." Actors who emote all over the place are not necessarily conveying true emotion: they are "acting." As with certain aspects of Italian cinema, more is conveyed in what is left out and held back than what is overtly revealed. I felt all of the performances, and especially Guinness's, and including his leading lady, were true to their character. The intelligence in his eyes and the slight, fleeting change of expression in his face, as he reacts, for example, to Hawkins' approval of his reconnaissance flights, is an example of the subtlety that would characterize all of Guinness's performances. Viewers who expect too much overt emotion are possibly allowing the actors on screen to experience it for them, rather than being drawn into the emotion and circumstance of the onscreen drama unfolding. Calling it a "stiff upper lip" may be one easy way to describe it, but one does have a sense in this film of people with some depth and substance, depicted with a visual honesty, who are caught in a life and death situation.

Of four stars, at least three *** without reservation.

The Great Waltz (1938)

Slouching toward Vienna

[26 March 2003]

Delighted to know this movie was so loved by many, however, I felt there was only one redeeming feature to this saccharinely fictional account of the great composer, and that was Luise Rainier as the composer's wife. What was Johann Jr, really like? are we ever to know, and if we can't, do we want to remember him as this simpering bandleader?

I could not see what Fernand Gravet gave to the character that Rainier worshipped so adoringly. There was no dimension to the composer -- his glorious music seems suddenly to appear from his vest pocket, despite the fact that there are a few token scenes of him sitting at the piano. He seems to play the violin quite creditably, even while he is making eyes at the coloratura blond Miliza Korjus. Other viewers felt she dominated the movie; well, yes you could say she was like a rapier-foil in personality to the velvety, even pearl-like inner radiance that characterizes Rainier's. As an opera-lover, I must still agree with the viewer who found Korju's high-pitched voice unpleasant. And the affectation of holding high notes interminably was a kind of flashy veneer that serious opera singers never needed. Add to this the rather tacky role she played in playing up to the weak-willed composer, well, I endured her appearances on the screen. She reminded me of a steely Jean Harlow, but missing the sarcastic humor.

As for Luise Rainier, she was, for me, the reason to stick to the end of the film. Rainier was like Garbo-- they both did not make many movies, but their beauty shone with a mysterious grace through even the most banal of films or situations in which they found themselves. Rainier had the ability to show vulnerability, while maintaining a sense of inner strength, especially with those large, expressive eyes. This "softness" made her a natural choice for the then-stereotype of the all-suffering wife, such as of O-lan in "The Good Earth." In "Great Waltz," she speaks with her natural Viennese accent, and is probably the only genuinely Viennese personnage in the film. She wore her gowns with a natural flair, as did, I concede, Korjus, as well.

Even the music had something that was not quite right, even though the tunes were there. If you notice the credits, you will see that the familiar waltz tunes had been re-orchestrated for the soundtrack by someone else. Did Strauss Jr, need that? The Vienna Woods scene that all of the viewers liked was for me a sadly literal translation of the components of that great waltz, and even then, it was not played in its entirety, nor in the original arrangement. I found this cavalier treatment of the music a dissappointment. At least in subsequent Hollywood films when using music of the great composers, they at least appeared to tamper less with it. "Amadeus" is an example of a more completely conceived and musically convincing composer's biography, and one leaves that movie with a genuine feeling for the gravity and grace of Mozart's compositions.

White Heat (1949)

Cagney as caged animal

[13 March 2003]

This classic was offered as part of Turner's crime week "behind bars" series, and to be honest, I didn't expect much, not being a fan of gangster flicks. But the fast-paced no-holds barred direction didn't let up, a tribute to the director R. Walsh.

The movie seems to avoid the cliches of shoot'em ups because it defines them. It's a straight tale, told with no irony. While all the supporting characters are good, including Ma Garrett, what holds the picture together is Cagney's charisma. From his opening scene, jumping onto the train, to the chase at the end leading to the conflagration, I had the feeling that I was watching a desperate caged animal. When policemen refer to a face as a "mug," they were probably thinking of Cagney. What a mug! -- and when he pulled the trigger, all the venom in his veins came shooting out.

Only a few actors in the history of cinema give so much of themselves, and when they do, we recognize them as stars. I think the reason "White Heat" gets such a high score from reviewers is that few of us (actors or audience) have the guts to show this kind of evil or all-out desperation, in an otherwise tame movie, and to recognize it as part of one's nature, not as part of an "act," which is how most actors would do the hoodlum or bad guy in other run of the mill films.

One difference between the film noir of the forties, is how this evil is conceived by the writer(s). In "White Heat," while Cagney doesn't torture anyone, he gets his kicks from shooting them, or allowing them to be steamed to death. short and sweet. Later, post-WW II movies would place evil in the form of a Nazi, with torture, and then, by the nineties, we have psychological evil in the form of Hannibal Lecter and the very slow roast, where noone can outwit him. Anthony Hopkins' genius was to grasp the psychopathic side of himself and allow it to be revealed on screen.

Cagney had courage to let out unbridled badness. This affected his co-star, bringing out Mayo's terror in one scene, so she didn't have to "act" either, according to a recent interview describing their working together. It's a pity to learn from the other reviews that this movie hit the top of Cagney's career and that it was downhill after that.

Reversal of Fortune (1990)

Reversal of Brideshead into Stepford

[11 March 2003]

This film was part of Turner Classic Movies's courtroom/crime week and it followed on the heels of "Asphalt Jungle" and "Witness for the Prosecution." After these two classics by two of the classiest directors, John Huston and Billy Wilder, "Reversal" was a huge downer.

What's all the fuss about? First, I agree with the reviewer from Melbourne: the script was as flat as a pancake (I can hardly imagine what Dershowitz's book must have been like), with dialogue that made the "Stepford Wives" seem animated. Second, with two award-winning stars like Irons and Close, how could a director fail? yet, for me, he did. These two actors could make the phone book sound interesting, yet they couldn't revive this dead horse. Why would an actor like Irons accept this role? For the money? well, you say, it won him the Academy Award. Granted, this role didn't cast the slightest shadow on his reputation, but it proves how important the script and the director are, once again.

When one considers this film in the context of "Asphalt," with its dead-on script, penetrating insight into the human condition and sterling (pun intended) performances by lesser known actors; and "Witness," with its stylized and literate script, and its superstar cast (partially against character,making it all the more meaty), each bringing a lifetime of personality to the role, one can only say that the director oof "Reversal," whose name I cannot remember, must have stifled his Newport cast with invisible pillows. Not only was the family dysfunctional, but the script gave nothing for even the children to do as part of daily life, except revive their mother time and again after being summoned by their robotic step-father. The only things alive in that Newport household were the maid, the Labradors, and that cute baby tiger, and their parts were too short.

Irons usually brings his characteristic elegance of speech and manner to every role -- an obvious casting choice if one follows the von Bulow legacy of aristocratic achievement in music and the arts. But here, his attempt at a German accent is ludicrous and so mannered that it forces his face into an expressionless mask, interpreted by some as "icy." The most one can make of this dramatic fault is that Irons considered this attitude to be the one von Bulow had with Sunny in real life. And it was enough to convince the Academy Award voters. That to me is the mystery

in this movie. When one see his other roles, from "Brideshead" to "Kafka," one can only assume that he gritted his teeth and counted the incoming dollars. The same can be said for poor Glenn Close; she not only looked but behaved like a Stepford Wife in this role!

Third, as for the Dershowitz family and the gaggle of Harvard students, every time there was a cut to their caucus, I thought the television set had inadvertantly switched channels and given me a TV sitcom. Ruffling papers, staring into computer screens, struggling with chopstiks, asking pointed questions of the defendant, and demonstrating dipped vs administered hypodermic needles is not my idea of acting. This part of the movie looked like a tryout on campus before they had cast the film.

Of 4**** I give it a half*. One of the worst movies I've ever had

to suffer through. Stay for the Labradors and the baby tiger.

Daddy Nostalgia (1990)

Delicate limning of death

[1 March 2003]

This touching film bears up to repeated viewings for its subtlety and insight. I agree with all of the comments discussed by the two previous reviewers, Victoria and Les Halles.

By focussing on the "non-action" of daily life and daily conversation, Tavernier appears to present a nothing of a film, but in reality has captured something valuable and ephemeral -- the silent dialogue between a husband and wife after a long marriage and the discovery of love between a father and daughter, all of whom have to deal in their own way with his impending death.

The use as a coda of the haunting song "These foolish things remind me of you" as sung by Jane Birkin in her breathless voice has never been more apt. It should be noted from the credits that Tavernier dedicated this film to another cinema genius Michael Powell (of the team Powell & Pressberger). Like Powell, Dirk Bogarde, both in the film and in real life, was very English, but cosmopolitan in intellect and cultural tastes. These characteristics are brought out in Bogarde's portrayal and in Birkin's flashbacks of her early remembrances. The acting and inter-action of the three principals, Bogarde, Birkin and Laure, is so subtle as to not appear as such, again a tribute to their experience and rapport with the director.

For someone who has faced the recent death of a loved one, this film rings true, and the refrain from the song takes on a new dimension, not intended by the original lyricist.

*****Five stars for hitting its emotional target..

Lease of Life (1954)

Textures of an English village Donat-style

[28 February 2003]

Fans of Robert Donat will not want to miss this one. As I watched the film, with its strong and unflinching view of daily life in which the Church structures every act in every household, I kept thinking of Agatha Christie and her conception of Miss Marple's detection of crime in an English village. In Donat's parsonage, there are no murders, but there are small transgressions, which, in the large scheme of things, may matter little, but under the microscope of vicarage life, mean as much as a daughter's music career hinging on 20£s being too little.

Donat's character is reminiscent of Mr. Fred Rogers, of television fame, who just passed away. As with Mr. Rogers, his view of life is one of gentle humor and of quiet strength, always facing up to the challenge that each individual has in life when he is placed on this earth. The screen writer Eric Ambler is unknown to me, but his view of daily life in 1950's England, while a decade away from the war, was still one of struggle with a slightly grim, but not cheerless, overcast. The women are all strong, and, while the men not all good-looking, are a tad on the shrill and demanding side. We wonder if Donat's parson could survive without Kay Walsh's, and then the daughter Adrienne Corri's, constant ministrations, verbal and actual. The other women in the village also seem to be like harpies, which makes one wonder about the women in Ambler's life.

Adrienne Corri, unless I am mistaken, actually does play the piano in the film-- the big Romantic composers into which she pours her heart as an escape from the potentially stifling life in Hinton. We see her as a younger beauty in Jean Renoir's classic "The River," which she made just four years earlier. Her beau in the film is the young Denholm Elliott, who in a long and distinguished career, plays, here, a rather aggressive and unsympathetic, though professionally encouraging to Adrienne, church organist.

The movie is about character, and the performances remind us that ordinary life in a small English town revolved around the structure that religious life gave it, and that both pleasure and pain hinged on the degree of conformity that one presented to the outside world. Kay Walsh's character, both heroic and petty, also reminds us of how many vicar's wives have been sacrificed in real life to the altar of their husband's career and to fulfillig the lives of their children, through which they lived vicariously, as Mrs. Thorne through her daughter's musical talent.

This film was an Ealing Film Studio production, and like other Ealing products, bears an honesty and respect for the dignity of ordinary people in the telling of its story, regardless of the director. Is this saying too much for a movie company, or is it the English character? One has only to consider the other Ealing Studio films which Turner Movie Classics has made available from time to time, "The Magic Box" (another Donat classic), "Shiralee" (an early Peter Finch), as well as a number of great comedies, like "The Wrong Box," "Man in the White Suit" (an Alec Guinnes classic), and others, that poke fun at human nature and its foibles with a sense of manic pleasure, but never losing sight of gentle humanity.

"Lease of Life" was apparently the second to the last film that Donat made before he succumbed to chronic asthma, a tragedy as that ailment today can be so easily controlled. His last film "Inn of the Sixth Happiness" was ironically made for Hollywood, which he tended to avoid. In it he plays a dignified mandarin, both looking and speaking the part -- the only actor, in my experience, to have mastered the Chinese language in a western film.

For "Lease of Life" four**** out of five***** for its rarity.