“HITCHCOCK’S EARLY SOUND GEMS”

By Raymond Benson

Alfred Hitchcock’s early British period of work (1927-1939) has been in the public domain and/or out of copyright and available in poor quality renditions online and cheap home video bargain collections for many years. Most of these are unwatchable, not due to the films themselves, but because of the wretched condition of the images. Granted, not everything the Master of Suspense did during these years is up to par with his later Hollywood output that most of us know. Nevertheless, of the 25+ films Hitch made then (nine of them silent), there are indeed some select winners (The Lodger, The Man Who Knew Too Much, The 39 Steps, Sabotage, and The Lady Vanishes all come to mind).

There are also a handful of other admirable and worthwhile gems from the British period, and Kino Lorber has recently issued new high definition restorations of two that have been crying out for facelifts for some time.

Blackmail (1929) is touted as Britain’s first talkie, although it really isn’t. Nevertheless, as audio commentator Tim Lucas says, we’re not going to argue with that notion. Blackmail was such a step forward in technical innovation with its inventive use of sound that the picture deserves to be recognized as, at least, the first British talkie that did sound well. Interestingly, the film exists as a silent film, too. As in the USA, many cinemas across Britain were not yet wired for sound, so Hitchcock made two versions—a silent and a talkie. Originally, the silent picture was longer than the sound version, but some of that material is lost. A recent restoration brings the silent entry in at around 75 minutes, whereas the talkie is roughly 85.

It’s a rather sordid story (then again, it’s Hitchcock!). Alice (gorgeous Anny Ondra) is angry at her police detective boyfriend, Frank (John Longden), so she goes out with an artist, Mr. Crewe (Cyril Ritchard). Crewe attempts to rape her, so Alice murders him with a knife. Unfortunately, shifty street bum Tracy (Donald Calthrop) figures out she’s the one who did it, and he attempts to blackmail both Alice and Frank. Without giving too much away, let’s just say the picture ends with a moral ambiguity.

For an early sound motion picture, Blackmail is surprisingly engaging and suspenseful. Hitchcock’s playful use of the technology (such as in the now-famous scene in which Alice hears the word “knife” repeated and loses her cool over it) is apparent throughout. The picture is also notable for the director’s first big climactic sequence at a famous landmark (in this case, the British Museum).

That said, film buffs may very well find that the silent version of Blackmail to be superior. There is an economy to the purely visual storytelling that the sound entry subtly lacks. They’re both terrific, though.

Note: Although the packaging does not adequately make it clear, Blackmail comes with two Blu-ray disks. The first contains the silent version and the sound edition in 1.33:1 aspect ratio. On the other disk is the sound version in 1.20:1 aspect ratio, which is apparently closer to what the movie was when first released. There is some speculation online regarding the accuracy of these two aspect ratios (see the discussion at https://www.hometheaterforum.com/a-few-words-about-blackmail-in-blu-ray/), but these eyes can find no egregious fault with either presentation. Compared to what we’ve had before with Blackmail, the Kino Lorber release is a godsend. Ironically, the silent version looks the most pristine. Supplements include the previously mentioned audio commentary by Lucas (always listenable), an intro to the film by Noël Simsolo, an audio portion of the conversation between Hitchcock and François Truffaut conducted for the Hitchcock/Truffaut book, Anny Ondra’s celebrated brief screen test, and trailers for this and other Kino Lorber titles.

“ARE YOU FEELING LUCKY?”

By Raymond Benson

Although apparently it was not a hit when it was first released in 1956, Jean-Pierre Melville’s Bob le flambeur (aka Bob the Gambler) grew in reputation over the ensuing years and soon became a classic French film noir, often cited as one of the better crime films from that country in any decade.

Melville was an artist known for his minimalistic style that influenced many of the younger rebels who initiated the French New Wave. While Melville himself is usually not considered to be a New Wave director, he has been called the “godfather” of the movement. Both Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut have acknowledged him as a mentor of sorts, and in fact, Godard cast him in a small role—as a filmmaker—in his debut picture, Breathless.

Bob le flambeur is mostly a character study about a former thief/bank robber (played by the charismatic Roger Duchesne) who did time, is out of jail, and is attempting to lead a life without crime. His one vice, however, is gambling, and he can’t stop. Whenever he has money, he spends it on a dice game, at the races, at cards, or at the casino. He acknowledges that he has runs of bad luck… but when he’s feeling lucky, the world is his oyster. He tends to do kind things for people, such as help out a young woman, Anne (Isabelle Corey) who is one night away from being a streetwalker, or also showing a young protégé, Paolo (Daniel Cauchy), the ropes with regard to high stakes and the philosophical risks of life itself. Then temptation strikes—there’s the possibility of making a big score by robbing the safe at a casino with the help of a team of specialists. How the plot plays out produces the kind of irony that is reminiscent of what is displayed in, say, Kubrick’s The Killing.

The picture is an early one in Melville’s career, and he would go on to direct other, perhaps better, titles (Le Samouraï, Army of Shadows, Le Cercle rouge), but Bob le flambeur may be his best known work because of its striking style, the melancholic mood it evokes, and the central performance by Duchesne. It is a standout among the many French noirs being made in the 1950s.

Kino Lorber presents a beautifully restored 1920x1080p high definition transfer that looks gorgeous, and it comes with an audio commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton. Also included is the approximately half-hour documentary, Diary of a Villain, about the influence of the picture and its striking style. The theatrical trailer and other Kino Lorber trailers round out the package.

Bob le flambeur is recommended for any fan of film noir and/or French cinema. You’re sure to be a winner with this one.

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“TWO JEAN GABIN CRIME NOIRS”

BY RAYMOND BENSON

The French caught on to Hollywood’s wave of crime movies in a big way. In fact, the French critics coined the term film noir to describe the types of B-budget, angst-ridden, expressionistic, hard boiled flicks that were made throughout the 1940s and 1950s in America. French filmmakers had been toying with this style of crime picture since the late 1930s, but in the 50s, they, too, emulated what Hollywood had been doing—only they notched up the violence and the darkness.

Classic French actor Jean Gabin, who became known to U.S. and U.K. audiences with his superb performances in Jean Renoir pictures of the 30s (Grand Illusion, The Human Beast) and early gangster flicks (Pépé le Moko), rejuvenated his career in the 50s by starring in several of these European gangster films. Gabin, who might be described as a French mixture of Spencer Tracy and Humphrey Bogart, was a wonderful, charismatic actor who could play tough guys with a touch of empathy, the same way Bogart could.

Touchez pas au grisbi (1954), which translates to, roughly, “Don’t Touch the Loot,” was released in the U.K. as Honour Among Thieves and apparently in the U.S. as simply Grisbi. Gabin is Max, a high-level gangster who has just pulled off a daring heist of gold bars. The idea is to lay low and fence the gold when it’s safe. Unfortunately, a dastardly femme fatale throws a monkey wrench into the plan. Max’s partner, Riton (René Dary) has said too much to his burlesque dancer girlfriend, Josy (a feisty young Jeanne Moreau), who of course blabs it to Angelo (Lino Ventura) a rival gang member who is sweet on her. Trouble ensues.

Razzia sur la chnouf (1955), which translates to, roughly, “Raid on the Dope, or Raid on the Drugs,” was released in the U.S. as simply Razzia. In this picture, Gabin is “Henri from Nantais,” another high-level gangster working in the U.S., who is summoned to France to take over and improve the heroin distribution operation run by a large syndicate. Henri manages a restaurant as cover, and then proceeds to clean house. In the process, he becomes romantically involved with the restaurant cashier, Lisette (the scintillating Magali Noël). As Henri lays down the law among the men, the body count increases, culminating toward an explosive climax.

Both pictures are terrific, but the edge goes to Razzia. While Grisbi employs a fascinating character study in Max, the first half is a slow burn and doesn’t become truly thrilling until the final third—which does indeed erupt in a brutal violence that was uncommon for the 1950s. Razzia is better constructed and is more “colorful” (even though it’s shot in black and white) with the depiction of Chinese and black user drug dens, underworld politics, and the details of the drug operation. Razzia also has a very satisfying twist ending. In both cases, the directors, Jacques Becker and Henri Decoin, respectively, handle the material with firm hands.

Kino Lorber’s two sold-separately Blu-ray packages contain gorgeous, sharp high definition 1920x1080p restorations, in French with optional subtitles, and both also feature an audio commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton. The Grisbi disk has some supplements: a fun vintage interview with Jeanne Moreau; an interview with the director’s son, Jean Becker; and an interview with professor/film critic Ginette Vincendeau. Note that the information on the back of the jewel box states that the film’s run time is 83 minutes, when in fact it is 96. Razzia, unfortunately, does not contain any extras. Both disks offer the original theatrical trailers, plus other Kino Lorber title trailers.

Any fan of film noir, the actor Jean Gabin, and/or gritty crime pictures, will enjoy these two French gems. Sacrebleu!

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“MARLENE VS. JEAN”

BY RAYMOND BENSON

Not usually mentioned in naming off the many classic movies made by master filmmaker Billy Wilder, A Foreign Affair seems to always be lumped in with his lesser efforts. This is a mistake.

After the one-two punch of Double Indemnity (1944) and The Lost Weekend (1945), the latter picture winning Best Picture and Director, Wilder made The Emperor Waltz (1948), which truly is a bit of a dud, and then A Foreign Affair, released that same year.

The film featured the fabulous comic actress Jean Arthur in her last motion picture starring role (she would appear in a supporting part a few years later in Shane, her last movie, but would continue to work in theatre and television), and the marvelous Marlene Dietrich, whose star had diminished somewhat by the late 1940s but was still a screen presence to reckon with. The third corner of the ménage à trois that is the center of the picture is John Lund, a leading man wannabe who never quite broke through after a couple dozen near misses.

Post-war Berlin (where a lot of the film was shot) is still in devastation, policed in four quarters by the Allies. The German people are struggling to rebuild their lives and spirits. A Congressional committee comes to the U.S. sector to visit a military base and assess the morale and progress of the troops. Congresswoman Phoebe Frost (Arthur) from Iowa is one of the more patriotic, prim, and proper members of the team. Handsome and charming Captain John Pringle (Lund) is having an affair with German cabaret singer Erika von Schlütow (Dietrich), but the army suspects her of harboring a Nazi war criminal who was once her lover. Frost snags Pringle to unwittingly be her partner in smoking out von Schlütow and in the process falls in love with him. Pringle pretends to be smitten as well to keep Frost from learning of his relationship with von Schlütow. It all becomes a comedy—and musical—of manners set amidst rather serious, sober times for a country fighting to survive.

Like with most Wilder pictures, the humor conflicts with the drama in unsuspecting ways. This is a comedy with bite.

Poor Lund fades into the background compared to the dynamo star power of Arthur and Dietrich, as they battle each other for not only Lund’s affections, but for the audience’s as well. Arthur, who was in her late forties at the time (sadly considered “old” by Hollywood standards in those days), is as charming and funny as ever. Dietrich, who was a year younger, never seems to age. Her cabaret act recalls her numbers in the early Josef von Sternberg vehicles like The Blue Angel and Morocco. As she is essentially the villain in the story, it’s noteworthy that Wilder was able to persuade Dietrich to play a member of the party she openly despised. The two women are fascinating to watch.

Kino Lorber presents a 1920x1080p high definition transfer that is of mixed quality. Portions of the feature look pristine and sharp—albeit with the requisite and welcome graininess one would expect from a black and white feature from the period. Other sections of the movie, however, contain artifacts and vertical lines that hover for several minutes. Still, it’s nice to have this Wilder rarity on Blu-ray, and it comes with an interesting audio commentary by film historian Joseph McBride. There are no supplements other than the theatrical trailer and other Kino Lorber trailers.

Fans of Billy Wilder, Jean Arthur, and/or Marlene Dietrich will surely get a kick out of this time capsule that captures post-war Germany with a good deal of insight and quite a few laughs.

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“THE FUTURE IS NOW”

BY RAYMOND BENSON

If you’re familiar with the work of that French New Wave revolutionary, Jean-Luc Godard, you may not think that he was the type of filmmaker who would make a science fiction film. He did, though, in 1965, and he merged the genre with that of film noir to create a unique hybrid that also contains many of the jarring stylistic elements with which Godard loves to bombard his audiences.

Godard was the “bad boy” of the French New Wave. He seemed to take pleasure in angering viewers and being controversial by choice (unlike, say, Truffaut, whose films were decidedly more commercial and accessible). That said, though, there is much in Godard’s canon that can be not only shocking and challenging, but truly wonderful.

Such is the case with Alphaville.

Western audiences may not be familiar with the character of Lemmy Caution. He’s a private investigator of the Philip Marlowe/Sam Spade type, an American, created by British writer Peter Cheyney, and featured in nine novels published in the 1940s as pulp P.I. mysteries. The character also appeared in approximately fifteen motion pictures, made mostly in France, and were never on the radar of English-speaking viewers. American tough-guy actor Eddie Constantine moved to France after he found that he couldn’t get work in Hollywood, and there he enjoyed a career playing the kinds of roles one might associate with Robert Mitchum or Dennis O’Keefe. Constantine played the role of Lemmy Caution in seven French pictures, made as hard-boiled crime dramas, before Jean-Luc Godard made his version of a Lemmy Caution movie (how Godard obtained the rights to the character to make an art film that turns the detective genre on its head is also a mystery!).

Alphaville takes place in an unspecified dystopian future—Alphaville, the city, looks like Paris, and maybe it is, but now it’s run in an Orwellian-style aristocratic fashion. A computer known as Alpha 60 runs everything (and narrates the film), and people are not allowed to show emotion of any kind. Lemmy comes to Alphaville to destroy Alpha 60 and its creator, a shadowy scientist named “Professor von Braun” (is the similarity to Werner von Braun intentional?—probably!). Lemmy meets up with von Braun’s daughter, Natacha (Anna Karina) and, with an uneasy partnership, sets out on his convoluted mission.

The picture uses many traits of classic film noir (expressionistic lighting, trench coats, fedoras, handgun violence, a femme fatale, and good old cynicism and angst) with the paranoia and highly regulated environment of the dystopian future urban setting. The “futuristic” effect was accomplished by filming on location at “modern” buildings (for the time), providing the movie an added thematic aspect that we are already “living in the future.” Godard continues to rely on his signature radical editing techniques that can be discordant, but here it all works. In fact, Alphaville is one of the more enjoyable Godard films from the 1960s, albeit not something that would play well in Peoria, Illinois.

Kino Lorber Classics has released a restored 1920x1080p transfer that looks remarkably good, and it also features an audio commentary by noted film historian Tim Lucas. Extras include a Colin McCabe introduction to the picture, an interesting interview with Anna Karina (who was married to Godard during the director’s first five years of filmmaking), and the theatrical trailer.

Alphaville is a striking, oddball of a film that gets better with each successive viewing.

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“TWO ALAN BATES GEMS”

BY RAYMOND BENSON

Back in 1973, producer Ely Landau and his wife Edie launched a daring and unprecedented cinema series that played in the U.S. for two “seasons,” with a total of fourteen titles (but only thirteen were shown), all renowned works—classic and modern—originally produced on the stage. It was called the American Film Theatre. (A review of a DVD box set of the entire series appeared on Cinema Retro. Click here to read.)

The concept tried something different. The directive was to take a great stage play, not change a word, and in most cases, use the actual play script as the screenplay. The next step was to hire an accomplished film director to interpret the text for the film medium but stay faithful to the play. Sometimes the director was the same person who helmed the original stage production. A further step was to persuade the original casts from the Broadway or London productions of those plays to star in the film; or, when that wasn’t possible, to cast big-name Hollywood or British actors. Thus, the result was indeed a filmed play—but you as an audience member wouldn’t be watching it from the middle of the orchestra or from the side or from the first balcony; instead you were up close and personal in a realistically-presented world (on studio sets and/or real interior or exterior locations)—just like in “regular” movies. You had the best seat in the house, so to speak, but there’s no proscenium arch. It’s a movie. But it’s a play.

Kino Lorber has slowly been re-releasing the titles from the American Film Theatre in individual packages, upgraded to high definition Blu-ray. Two recent titles to receive the treatment are a couple of the best ones in the series, both featuring the brilliant actor, Sir Alan Bates—Butley, which originally appeared in the first season of the AFT, and In Celebration, which debuted in the second season.

Simon Gray’s Butley is a tour-de-force for Bates, and it’s the role he was born to play. The film also stars Jessica Tandy, Richard O’Callaghan, Michael Byrne, and Susan Engel. Ben Butley is an alcoholic, razor-witted schoolteacher who is left by his wife and his male lover on the same day. If there was ever any doubt that Bates was one of the greatest actors of the 20^th Century, then Butley is the film to see. The actor dominates the production in every frame. Even though he plays a despicable cad, his charisma and exuberance are infectious. If the film had been allowed to compete at that year’s Oscars, Bates surely would have been a contender. Harold Pinter made his directorial debut with the picture and it exhibits confidence and style. Simply put, Butley was one of the best films of 1974, in or outside of the AFT.

David Storey’s In Celebration, released in 1975, also stars Alan Bates, along with Brian Cox, James Bolam, Bill Owen, and Constance Chapman. It’s the story of a dysfunctional British family as three grown sons return home to Yorkshire to celebrate their parents’ 40^th wedding anniversary. Of course, there are long-squelched secrets that need to bubble to the surface, so what starts out as an uneasy reunion turns ugly. Bates is again superb as the eldest (and trouble making) son, but it is Cox who is strikingly charismatic as the silent, youngest son on the verge of a breakdown. And then there’s the unseen, ever-present specter of the son who died at age seven. The film imported the cast directly from the original Royal Court Theatre production, and it is compelling and poignant. Director Lindsay Anderson handles the material with sensitivity and truth.

Both titles are presented in 1920x1080p restored transfers and look decidedly better than the previous DVD versions. There are optional English SDH subtitles. The supplements are duplicated on both disks: a long, engaging interview with Alan Bates from circa 2002 in which he talks about all of his work with the AFT; an interview with Edie Landau, who with her husband Ely produced the films in the series; a short promotional piece featuring Ely that was shown in theaters during the initial run; and several trailers for other AFT titles. An extra supplement, an interview with writer David Storey, appears on the In Celebration disk.

The titles are sold separately and are a must for theatre-lovers and connoisseurs of superb acting. We at Cinema Retro look forward to the appearance of more AFT titles on Blu-ray.

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BY MARK CERULLI

Forty eight years ago, United Artists continued their series of highly profitable Bond double features by releasing arguably the biggest 00 double bill of them all – Thunderball and You Only Live Twice. Both films had coined money on their initial releases, with Thunderball being the highest-grossing 007 film of that era – in fact, of many eras, right up until Skyfall in 2012. Thunderball earned a stunning $141 Million worldwide (over one billion dollars in today’s money), a number that must have had UA’s finance department humming the Bond theme at 727 Seventh Avenue. You Only Live Twice pulled in over $111 Million worldwide, its profits squeezed perhaps by a competing Bond film, the over-the-top comedy, Casino Royale with Peter Sellers, David Niven, Terence Cooper and Woody Allen as various Bonds or an Italian spy knockoff starring Sean Connery’s younger brother, Neil. (More on that later.)

Throughout the 60s, 70s and into the early 80s, United Artists cannily fed the demand for Bond with double features that also served to ignite audience interest between new films. The double-bills were pure cash cows for the studio – the movies had already been produced and paid for, so all UA had to do was book the theaters, buy TV, radio and print advertising, then, as Bond producer Cubby Broccoli was fond of saying, “Open the cinema doors and get out of the way.”

As a (very) young Bond fan in New York City, the exciting double feature TV spots for “The Two Biggest Bonds of All” got my attention and I desperately wanted to go. My father, an advertising and music executive, thought noon on a Saturday was the perfect time – instead we were greeted with a line around the block and a sold out show. Apparently that satisfied my dad’s interest in the movies because we never went back. Almost five decades later, I still regretted missing those two fantastic films on the big screen…

Enter Quentin Tarantino. Throughout July, his New Beverly Theater in LA ran most of the classic Bonds in vintage 35MM IB Technicolor prints, reportedly from his own collection. (The IB refers to “imbibition”, Technicolor’s patented die-transfer process resulting in a richer, more stable color palette.) So while there was no 4-hour, action-packed double feature for me, I finally got to see both films in 1960s 35MM, only a week apart. Even fifty years later, they didn’t disappoint: Thunderball remains a bonafide masterpiece. Fortunately Quentin owns a very good print, so the colors were still lush and it was fairly scratch-free. The main titles set to Tom Jones’ timeless song still popped in an explosion of colors and sound effects. The scenes of Domino and Bond meeting on a coral reef were hauntingly beautiful. The frantic Junkanoo chase fairly jumped off the screen and Thunderball’s iconic underwater battle is still a showstopper. (The filmmakers cleverly refrained from wall-to-wall music so the sequence incorporated underwater breathing and other natural sounds. Kudos again to 00 audio genius, Norman Wanstall.)

You Only Live Twice is a true epic and only the master showmen, Monsieurs Broccoli and Harry Saltzman could have pulled it off. They reached into the highest levels of the Japanese government to secure a lengthy shoot in what was then a very exotic location in a much bigger world. Japan was almost a character itself in their sprawling space age tale that occasionally bordered on sci-fi. Much has been written about Ken Adam’s volcano crater, but seeing it on a big screen really brings out his mind-blowing vision, especially during the climactic battle where the “ninjas” rappel down from the roof as controlled explosions rock the set. One can only imagine how that went over with 1967 audiences who had never seen anything like it. Putting it in context, Tarantino had selected various spy-themed trailers to run before the film – including The Wrecking Crew, The Venetian Affair and The Liquidator. Although they were all successful and well made, their sets and action sequences looked positively cheap in comparison to a Bond film.

Both features starred a young, vibrant Connery whose acting chops were on full display. Connery played Bond for real. He made you believe… once you bought into him as 007, then his strapping on a jetpack to fly over a French chateau, or a SPECTRE construction crew hollowing out a volcano - in secret - to create a rocket base seemed totally plausible. Sure Connery had put on a few pounds between Thunderball and Twice, but he was still fit and looked fantastic in his custom-made suits. And his fight with Samoan wrestler Peter Maivia (grandfather to Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson) in Osato’s office is still one for the ages.

(Above: Mie Hama joins in celebrating Connery's birthday on the set.)

As most Bond students know, Twice was a grueling shoot for the mercurial star. He was subjected to intense press and fan interest in a country that had gone wild for 007. Connery needed security to accompany him from location trailer to set. Going out for a quiet dinner was out of the question – even visiting the loo was off limits after an overzealous photographer poked his lens into Connery’s toilet stall! But if he was feeling angry or bitter about his situation, he was too much of a pro to let it show in his performance. In spite of the pressures, there were some good times on the Twice shoot during the furnace hot Asian summer of 1966 – now-famous photos show Connery-san laughing with lovely Mie Hama at his 36^th birthday party on location, or back at Pinewood, smiling at Donald Pleasence during a light moment in the control room that even had Blofeld’s hulking bodyguard (actor Ronald Rich) laughing in the background.

“LOVE AND ANGST—FRENCH STYLE”

By Raymond Benson

One of the most acclaimed films from France in the late 1930s was Port of Shadows (Le quai des brumes), which was among Marcel Carné’s earliest pictures (he is probably best known to Western audiences for his 1945 masterpiece, Children of Paradise). Port was the recipient of the Prix Louis-Delluc, then the equivalent of the “Best Picture” award in its native country.

The film stars the great Jean Gabin in a quintessential role as Jean, an army deserter who wanders penniless into the port city of Le Havre and soon becomes entangled in a conflict between a beautiful young woman, Nelly (the luminous Michèle Morgan), a group of petty gangsters, and Nelly’s creepy guardian, Zabel (Michel Simon). Zabel wants to sleep with Nelly, who finds her godfather disgusting, the gangsters want to kill Zabel for some offence he has committed, and Jean just wants peace and quiet and a meal. Nevertheless, Jean and Nelly quickly fall in love. Much angst is displayed, the gangsters frame Jean for a murder, and our central characters find themselves in an existential crisis.

The picture is billed as a “crime drama,” although in truth it’s more of a melodrama with some shady characters on the periphery who are up to no good. The main focus is on the burgeoning relationship between Jean and Nelly, and apparently this was hot stuff in 1938. The French censors ended up chopping up the movie—especially the sequence in which Jean and Nelly spend the night in a hotel room (shocking!)—and it wasn’t restored to its original form until years later. Some critics have called Port of Shadows an early film noir, but again, the romance takes too much of a center stage in the story for the picture to be thus labeled.

Carné’s direction of Jacques Prévert’s script (based on Pierre Mac Orlan’s novel) is in the style of what was called “poetic realism,” in that the proceedings are not quite as naturalistic as what was achieved later with Italian Neo-Realism. The soft focus, the moody night scenes, and the fog that envelopes the port city combine to create an impressionistic, painterly pragmatism that is indeed realistic, but lyrical as well. It’s good stuff, especially the tangible chemistry between Gabin and Morgan.

Kino Lorber Classics presents a restored 1920x1080p transfer that looks exquisite. It’s in French, of course, with optional English subtitles. Supplements include a video introduction by professor and film critic Ginette Vincendeau; a substantial documentary of the film’s making, On the Port of the Shadows; and the theatrical trailer.

Devotees of French cinema and film history will want to pick up this one. It’s also not a bad date movie.

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“OPEN TO INTERPRETATION”

By Raymond Benson

Last Year at Marienbad should have had the marketing tagline: “Open to Interpretation,” for the film belongs at the top of a list entitled Movies That Make You Go ‘Huh??’

Alain Resnais’ enigmatic, surreal, and puzzling experimental picture from 1961, the follow-up to his acclaimed Hiroshima mon amour (1959), won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. The picture has been simultaneously praised and reviled since its release because audiences generally don’t know what to make of it.

Yes, it’s beautiful to look at. The cinematography by Sacha Vierny is magnificent in its black and white, widescreen splendor. The settings at such Baroque palaces as Nymphenburg and Schleissheim in Munich evoke a mysterious past that might be an alternate timeline. The music by Francis Seyrig might belong in a creepy cathedral with its gothic horror organ. The pace is slow, but the picture constantly moves with the radical editing of the French New Wave (albeit of the Left Bank school, which maintained a more refined sensibility than the rebellious Right Bank upstarts like Godard and Truffaut). The endless tracking shots are remarkably fluid and smooth, seeing that the movie was made long before the invention of the Steadicam.

What’s it about? We’re in a “hotel” with upper class, formally dressed guests who play strange table games and speak in elliptical, often repetitive phrases. An unnamed man (Giorgio Albertazzi) is stalking an unnamed woman (the gorgeous Delphine Seyrig) throughout the corridors, rooms, and gardens, attempting to convince her that they met “last year” and were to get together again this year, but she continually denies the encounter. Another unnamed man (Sacha Pitoëff), who may be her husband, appears to be aware of the possible cuckolding, and therefore attempts to dominate the lover with his prowess in the games played in the hotel. Something surely occurred between the man and the woman—an assault, perhaps?—but we’re never really positive. Maybe she ran off with the guy and left her husband. Again, we can’t be certain.

Or one viable interpretation is that these people are all ghosts and they’re trapped in a looping hell of unfulfillment.

The preceding scenario is replicated throughout the 94-minute run time in various configurations of composition, costuming, and spaces. The ultimate effect is hypnotic, perpetuating the notion that the movie is a dream—but whose is unclear. The temporal logic is textbook surrealism, in which an artist attempts to evoke the structure of dreams.

Alain Resnais has always played with the themes of unreliable memory and the flexibility of time as it pertains to our pasts. Last Year at Marienbad could be his quintessential work in that regard. Allegedly it was a huge influence on Stanley Kubrick for The Shining, but one can see its stimulus in such works as Ingmar Bergman’s The Silence and David Lynch’s Inland Empire.

In short, the movie can be fascinating, mysterious, and striking in its presentation and execution; but at the same time tedious, frustrating, and impenetrable.

The perfect date movie!

Kino Lorber has released a top-notch edition with a 4K 1920x1080p restoration that looks spectacular, and a 2.0 mono soundtrack in French with optional English subtitles. There is an audio commentary by film historian Tim Lucas.

The supplements are especially interesting. Acclaimed director Volker Schlöndorff worked as an assistant and interpreter on the film. Schlöndorff presents a captivating interview about the making of the picture, as well as narrates a nearly-hour-long assembly of behind-the-scenes 8mm footage shot by the continuity person. Most helpful and informative is the 50-minute visual essay, Last Year at Marienbad A to Z, by James Quandt (programmer for the TIFF Cinematheque). It’s a lesson in filmmaking. There’s also a 1956 short film by Resnais, Toute la mémoire du monde, trailers, and a small illustrated booklet with an essay by Vanity Fair film critic K. Austin Collins.

The final verdict—Last Year at Marienbad deserves to be seen by any serious students of film history who are willing to delve into the unknown and unconventional, but they should be prepared to put on their thinking caps.

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BY TODD GARBARINI

Umberto Lenzi was one of the most prolific Italian genre directors working in Italy, but he is virtually unknown here in the States outside of the circles of the most die-hard of genre fans. In fact, his work is so obscure at times that even adherents to his most extreme horror movies don't even follow the other dramatic work for which he is also known despite his roster of titles on the IMDB. Much of International Cinema is “inspired” by American filmmaking (i.e. outright ripped off from) and following the Oscar-winning success of William Friedkin’s masterful 1971 crime drama The French Connection, with its astounding subway/car chase, Italy dove head-first into the Eurocrime, or poliziotteschi, genre headfirst making a slew of action films where the camera’s point-of-view is inspired by Owen Roizman’s work on the aforementioned real-life-inspired crime film. Filmed in late 1975 in Rome and released in New York in July 1978 under the title of Assault with a Deadly Weapon, The Tough Ones is yet another one of those films that is known by multiple titles too numerous to even list. Upon superficial investigation of the beautiful and colorful poster art for the film, one might assume (as yours truly did) that actor Franco Nero is the star. Rather it’s the late Maurizio Merli who, not surprisingly, began his career because he looked like Mr. Nero when the latter was unavailable for White Fang to the Rescue, the 1974 sequel to both Challenge to White Fang (1974) and White Fang (1973).

Mr. Merli plays Inspector Leonardo Tanzi, a hot-headed, self-appointed crime fighter who makes Gene Hackman’s Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle and Clint Eastwood’s “Dirty” Harry Callahan look timid in comparison as he tears up each scene that he appears in, slapping and kicking bad guys and even suspected bad guys, at the slightest hint of guilt or provocation. He’s fed up with the crime plaguing his jurisdiction, dishing out his own version of justice by breaking up a hidden casino, tackling a pair of purse-snatchers on a motor scooter, and diving into a bank robbery and killing some of the robbers. One of his best bits is when he is flagged down by a man whose girlfriend has been raped by a gang headed up by a rich kid who was released from jail just hours earlier. Taking a clue from the crime scene, he hunts down the spoiled brat and his cronies, smashing the ringleader’s face into a pinball machine before kicking all their asses in a crazy set piece. Anyone who gets in his way of getting to another criminal gets their ass handed to them. This doesn’t bode well for his girlfriend who is nearly sent to her death when criminals drop her car into a car crusher, stopping it just before it crushes it – with her in it! There’s a weird, typical living-on-the-fringe-of-society character named Vincenzo Moretto (played wonderfully by the late Tomas Milian) who seems frail and timid at first, but he proves to be a lunatic and is later told to swallow a bullet (literally) by Tanzi in a strange exchange at Moretto’s sister’s house.