Raymond Benson (see also Criterion Corner)
Entries from April 2020
“HOLMES
& WATSON??â€
By
Raymond Benson
In
one of the quirkier movies released in the early 1970s, George C. Scott moves
through the streets of New York City with his eyes alight with fire, wonder,
and confidence as Joanne Woodward follows him into every don’t-do-that
situation like a lovesick schoolgirl.
The
thing is—Scott plays a judge who has gone, well, a little funny in the head and
thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes. Woodward is a psychiatrist who desperately wants
to treat him, and her name just happens to be Dr. Watson.
Directed
by Anthony Harvey, the movie is based on a play by James Goldman, who also
penned the screenplay. Harvey’s previous film was the superb The Lion in
Winter (1968), which garnered him an Oscar nomination for directing, along
with a Best Picture nod and a trophy for Katharine Hepburn (for Best Actress). Perhaps
more significant is that Harvey was Stanley Kubrick’s editor for both Lolita
(1962) and Dr. Strangelove (1964). They Might Be Giants indeed
contains subtle dark comedy that one might call “Kubrickian.â€
Judge
Justin Playfair seems to have lost it when his wife died, and his brother,
Blevins (Lester Rawlins) is intent on having the man committed so that he can get
Justin’s money. Playfair, in complete Holmes getup (deerstalker hat, Meerschaum
pipe, tweed suit and shoulder-cape), won’t have anything to do with the
psychiatrist until she reveals that her name is Watson—suddenly, he is
interested in “collaborating†with her in his quest to find his nemesis,
Moriarty. Thus begins a very wacky adventure through the city as “Holmes†and
Watson follow “clues,†encounter even more eccentric characters, and ultimately
fall in love with each other. That’s it in a nutshell, but there’s much more
packed into this bewildering joy of a movie. Needless to say, you’ve probably
never seen anything like it before or since.
Both
Scott and Woodward appear to be having a ball in the picture, and Scott is
particularly charismatic. Besides the keen supporting performances by the likes
of Jack Gilford, Al Lewis, and Rue McClanahan, watch for small roles played by
other great, very young-looking character actors who will make bigger splashes
over the next few decades—F. Murray Abraham, M. Emmet Walsh, Paul Benedict, and
Eugene Roche.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray looks fine and sounds great, and it comes with an audio
commentary featuring director Harvey and film archivist Robert A. Harris.
Supplements include a short vintage promotional featurette and theatrical
trailers for this and other Kino Lorber releases.
Apparently,
there is some discrepancy regarding the running time of the feature. According
to the packaging, Kino Lorber’s presentation (91 minutes) is an “expanded
version with additional footage not seen in the original theatrical release.â€
However, IMDb claims that the theatrical release was 98 minutes. Is there seven
minutes missing? Maybe, and maybe not. The picture has a history of being
broadcast or previously released on home video with a variety of running times
between 87 and 97 minutes. IMDb says that a climactic scene in a grocery store
is absent from the shorter versions, but that sequence is visible here in
Kino’s release. Perhaps this is a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes.
For
a vintage look at early 70s New York, two fine performances by Scott and
Woodward, and a head-scratching kind of good time at the movies, settle in and
have some fun with They Might Be Giants.
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“THE
RULER OF AMBROSIAâ€
By
Raymond Benson
Director
John Schlesinger emerged from the so-called British New Wave, or “Free Cinema
Movement,†of the late 1950s/early 60s, that was typified by pictures made by
maverick filmmakers working with low budgets and concentrating on working-class
heroes in often bleak settings of smaller towns around Britain.
Billy
Liar,
based on the novel by Keith Waterhouse and the stage play by Waterhouse and
Willis Hall (with a screenplay by Waterhouse and Hall), was Schlesinger’s
second film, and it is an exhilarating demonstration of the director’s
confidence and talent. Schlesinger would go on to direct such classics as Darling
(1965) and Midnight Cowboy (1969).
Filmed
in widescreen black and white, the tale focuses on Billy Fisher (played by the
brilliant Tom Courtenay, who is in every scene of the movie) a young man who
still lives with his stodgy parents and a grandmother in a Yorkshire town. He
juggles three girlfriends and a job at a mortuary that he hates, but he also
has fantasies that unfortunately consume his life. He constantly daydreams
scenarios in which he is the ruler of an imaginary country called Ambrosia, and
the film abruptly moves in and out of these often-comic illusions in which
Billy is the star. In reality, though, Billy simply lies—all the time—to
everyone: his parents (Mona Washbourne and Wilfred Pickles), his grandmother
(Ethel Griffies), his boss (Leonard Rossiter), his friends, and his
girlfriends. In fact, he has become engaged to two of his girlfriends (Helen
Fraser and Gwendolyn Watts) without the other knowing, somehow managing to use
the same single ring. Both are seriously working-class girls for whom Billy honestly
has no affection.
The
third girlfriend, though, Liz (played by the luminescent Julie Christie in her
breakthrough role in cinema), is a free spirit, someone who has traveled out of
their little hometown, has become more worldly, and resignedly accepts Billy’s
penchant for lying with a sigh and a smile.
Will
Billy Liar, as he is nicknamed by all who sees through his deceptions, “grow
up†and face reality? Will he finally turn his back on his family and community
and flee to the big city of London to follow his dreams as a “scriptwriter� Or
is he doomed to spend the rest of his life in the dull, dreary existence that
he sees as the lot of the generation above him?
With
Courtenay’s performance, Christie in a small but winning supporting role, and
Schlesinger’s direction, Billy Liar is indeed a winner.
Kino
Lorber’s new high definition restoration looks and sounds terrific, and it
comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger. The only
supplements are theatrical trailers for this and other Kino Lorber releases.
Full
of humor as well as pathos, Billy Liar is grand entertainment and today
still holds a high place in the list of most admired titles in British cinema.
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“A
WHOLE LOT OF SHIRLEY GOING ONâ€
By
Raymond Benson
Joseph
E. Levine, head of Embassy Pictures, was at one time a formidable producer and
studio head who brought us some outstanding pictures in the 1960s and 70s (The
Graduate, The Producers and The Lion in Winter come to mind). In 1967, he managed
to persuade the great Italian director Vittorio De Sica (Shoeshine,
Bicycle Thieves, Marriage—Italian Style, etc.) to do a picture in
English with big Hollywood stars. De Sica had just previously done an
English-language flick, After the Fox (1966). So, in 1967, he made a
comic anthology movie called Woman Times Seven, starring Shirley
MacLaine in seven different roles opposite seven different leading men (and
others).
Anthology
movies are often a mixed bag. In almost every case, there are two or three
stories that are good, and two or three that are less so. Here, we have seven
tales of a woman’s relationship with a man (or men) with a distinctly European
slant (especially in its attitudes toward adultery and divorce), as well as a
potent “swinging sixties†1967 vibe that recalls movies like Casino Royale (the
one with Peter Sellers, who also starred in After the Fox). The entire
movie was shot in Paris, and this Franco-Italian sensibility shines through.
MacLaine
is quite winning throughout the picture, playing sexpots, innocent housewives,
and society ladies, and in fact she was nominated for a Golden Globe as Best
Actress for her performance. Her leading men in the tales include the likes of Peter
Sellers, Alan Arkin, Michael Caine, Vittorio Gassman, and Rossano Brazzi.
Again,
the vignettes here are hit and miss. The opening story, “Funeral Procession,â€
teams MacLaine up with Sellers in an entry about the family doctor putting the
moves on a widow at her husband’s funeral. “Amateur Night†finds our star seeking
revenge against a cheating husband (Brazzi) by find camaraderie with the Parisian
streetwalkers. “Two Against One†finds MacLaine as a liberal corporate
translator whose roommate is away (he’s depicted as none other than Marlon
Brando in a photograph!) but entertains two men (Gassman and Scotsman Clinton
Greyn) in her apartment—in the nude—but insisting that they can’t touch her. “At
the Opera†features the actress as a fashion model who wants to get revenge on
a rival. “Suicides†teams MacLaine up with Arkin as lovers who have decided to
kill themselves to get away from their respective unhappy marriages and the
cold, cruel world in general—but Arkin’s character finds exceptions with the various
methods to try, every step of the way. The final episode, “Snow,†finds wealthy
MacLaine leading on a would-be stalker (Caine) for the excitement of it, except
that the man is really working for her jealous husband (Philippe Noiret).
Continue reading "REVIEW: "WOMAN TIMES SEVEN" (1967) STARRING SHIRLEY MACLAINE; BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION"
“PIPE
DREAMSâ€
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 previously. 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 movies from the American Film Theatre
in individual packages, upgraded to high definition Blu-ray. One recent title
is the picture that opened the series, and it’s one of the best. The Iceman
Cometh, from the play by Eugene O’Neill, is directed by the formidable John
Frankenheimer (the script was adapted by Thomas Quinn Curtiss), and is a
remarkably faithful rendition of this lengthy powerhouse of a stage drama.
While the filmmakers indeed made some cuts to the text, the picture still runs
just a minute or two less than four hours, and that’s not including two
built-in intermissions! (Have you ever seen a film in a theater with two intermissions?
It’s not unusual for the theatre, though!)
This
is drama with a capital “D.†You get to spend the four hours with a bunch of
hopeless alcoholics in a dark, decrepit Irish bar in the big city and listen to
their tales of woe and “pipe dreamsâ€â€”the theme running through the piece that
highlights the hopes and wasted lives of men and women on the fringe. The play
originally premiered in the mid-1940s, about a decade after AA became a thing. Doesn’t
sound like a lot of fun? Stop! It’s true that the tale is terribly depressing,
but Iceman is such a masterwork in writing and acting that you come out
enlightened and, yes, changed.
An
amazing cast dominates the production. Lee Marvin stars in the showy role of
Hickey, a traveling salesman who has gone on the wagon and is usually the life
of the party when he comes into town—but now he’s preaching abstinence to the
motley crew who doesn’t want to hear it. Fredric March, in his last screen
appearance, plays Harry Hope, the owner of the bar, but he’s just as damaged and
forlorn as the rest of his clientele. Robert Ryan (who co-starred with Marvin in the classics Bad Day at Black Rock and The Professionals), also in his last film role, steals
the movie in an amazing performance as Larry Slade, a bitter anarchist and
journalist who is really the protagonist of the story and through whose eyes we
navigate this precarious jungle of fog and booze. A very young Jeff Bridges,
only a couple of years after his big splash in The Last Picture Show,
plays Don Parritt, the son of Larry’s girlfriend—a woman who has been arrested
for her political activities.
Those
are the main four genius thespians on display here, but a supporting cast
consists of the likes of Bradford Dillman, Moses Gunn, Sorrell Brooke, Clifton
James, Tom Pedi, and Martyn Green, plus the three streetwalking ladies who
congregate and cavort with the men, played by Evans Evans, Hildy Brooks, and
Nancy Juno Dawson.
Continue reading "REVIEW: "THE ICEMAN COMETH" (1973) STARRING LEE MARVIN AND ROBERT RYAN; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION"
“REVOLUTION
À LA RENOIRâ€
By
Raymond Benson
French
filmmaker Jean Renoir, son of the famous Impressionist painter Auguste Renoir,
is often cited as not only France’s greatest director of all time, but he also
frequently appears on lists of most important international names as well. This
reputation is well deserved, especially for his work in the 1930s, which
included Grand Illusion (1937) and The Rules of the Game (1939).
One
of his lesser-known pieces from this period, La Marseillaise, has been
restored and released in high definition by Kino Classics, and it is a cause to
re-evaluate this benchmark picture.
La
Marseillaise is
an epic period costume drama (but with plenty of comic vignettes) about the
beginnings of the French Revolution, and it sports a broad canvas of many
characters and locations. Coming off of the success of Grand Illusion,
the picture had a fairly large budget and no less than five cinematographers.
The movie runs 132 minutes, but it feels longer due to Renoir’s sometimes episodic
and lengthy takes. That doesn’t mean the movie is boring. It just takes a bit
of work on the viewer’s part to get through it, for which there is just reward.
The
story moves across various settings, from King Louis XVI’s palace (he is played
with great vigor by Renoir’s older brother, Pierre Renoir), where Louis and
Marie-Antoinette (Lise Delamare de la Comédie Français)
cavort in all the bourgeois trappings that eventually got them executed. Most
of the tale, though, focuses on the peasants, the countrymen, and the
revolutionaries who brought about one of the most significant events in human
history. If there are any protagonists of the picture, they are the ordinary
citizens-turned-adventurers who drive the plot.
Of
course, the song, “La Marseillaise,†the French national anthem, originated
during these times and figures prominently in a key scene during a march to
battle. This is a masterful sequence that illustrates Renoir’s gifts of dramatically
using history, patriotism, and politics to make a point.
Kino
Classics’ restoration is remarkably good, given the age and rarity of the
movie. It comes with an audio commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton. A short
archival interview with Renoir from the 1960s about the film is a welcome
supplement, but of particular interest is the excellent essay by Yale film
scholar Dudley Andrew in the enclosed booklet.
For
fans of Jean Renoir, European history, and 1930s international filmmaking, La
Marseillaise is a grand soufflé.
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“YEAHâ€
By
Raymond Benson
It’s
the most-heard response from Jack Nicholson’s character, Charley Partanna: “Yeah.â€
Does he swear a blood oath to Don Corrado Prizzi (William Hickey) for life?
“Yeah.†Does he want to “do it†on the Oriental [rug] with Maerose Prizzi
(Anjelica Huston)? “Yeah.†Does he want to get married to Irene Walker
(Kathleen Turner), an assassin who may or may not be working against his own
family? “Yeah.â€
Is
Prizzi’s Honor an amazing, acerbic black comedy that surprises you at
every turn? “YEAH!â€
It
was director John Huston’s swan song, his last film to be released while he was
alive (Huston’s final movie, The Dead, was released a few months after
his death in 1987). Prizzi picked up Oscar nominations for Best Picture,
Director, Actor (Nicholson), Supporting Actor (Hickey), Adapted Screenplay (by
Richard Condon, adapted from his novel, with Janet Roach), Costumes, and
Editing. The picture won none of those, but Anjelica Huston snatched the award
for Supporting Actress for her role. Allegedly she had to fight to get the
part, even with her father directing and her boyfriend (Nicholson, at the time)
starring.
Prizzi’s
Honor is
a gangster film with black comedy at its heart. While it’s an engrossing crime
picture with colorful and eccentric mobster characters, it is Nicholson’s
performance, the absurdity of the “family†life, and the screwball comedy sensibility
of the plot that bring an unusual hilarity to the proceedings.
Nicholson
plays Charley as a stereotypical Italian New Yorker who, in speech, sounds as
if he’s missing a cannoli or two—but don’t let his manner fool you. This guy is
smart like a fox, and as deadly as a viper. It’s why he’s the Partanna family’s
number one hitman. Nicholson’s characterization is brilliant; it is
surely one of his most memorable screen appearances. Irene Walker, who
is assuredly not Italian, is also shrewd and dangerous. Turner is also
excellent in the part, and she was robbed of a nomination that year. Theirs is a
match made, well, certainly not in heaven.
Don
Prizzi, now a really old man who also retains a canny mind, controls the
family business through his two sons, Eduardo (Robert Loggia) and Dominic (Lee
Richardson), and close advisor Angelo Partanna (John Randolph), Charley’s
“pop.†Maerose is Dominic’s daughter, and she was once involved with Charley.
Unfortunately, she left him from some schmuck, embarrassed the family, and was disowned.
Now she’s trying to get back in good graces with the Prizzis, and at the same
time snare Charley away from his new-found love, Irene.
Throw
in some contract killings and kidnappings with the love story, and you have a
mobster movie like no other. Huston’s work is masterful as he handles the
violence and comedy with a confidence we hadn’t seen from the filmmaker in some
time. When repetitive shots of a passenger airplane traveling west, then east,
west, and east again elicit laughter, then you know you’re in the right hands.
Kino
Lorber’s new high definition restoration looks fine, but Andrzej Bartkowiak’s
cinematography is soft and warm, coming across here a bit grainy. There are
English subtitles for the hearing impaired, and an optional audio commentary by
film historians Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson. Unfortunately, there
are no supplements other than theatrical trailers for this and other Kino
Lorber releases.
Easily
one of the audience favorites of the 1980s, Prizzi’s Honor made Anjelica
Huston’s career, kept Jack Nicholson in top star status, and gave John Huston a
final bow with magnificent acclaim.
Highly
recommended? Yeah.
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“I
AM GODâ€
By
Raymond Benson
It’s
a line uttered by Dr. Jed Hill (chillingly played by a young Alec Baldwin),
during a deposition in which he defends his surgical skill and knowledge as the
things people in chapels really pray to when a loved one is under the knife in
the operating room. “I am God,†he says with the kind of arrogance that
only an actor like Baldwin can deliver.
Malice, the 1993 thriller
directed by Harold Becker (whose previous film was the terrific Sea of Love),
was adapted from a story by Aaron Sorkin and Jonas McCord, with a screenplay by
Sorkin and Scott Frank. That’s powerhouse writing authorship, and the
twisty-turny tale that unfolds on the screen is solid evidence the fact.
Despite the rather improbable premise behind the con job that is at the heart
of Malice, the picture indeed holds your interest and keeps you
guessing.
Although
he received third billing, Bill Pullman’s character, Andy Safian, is the
protagonist of the piece. Andy is a dean at a local college in New England,
newly wed to Tracy (Nicole Kidman). There’s a serial killer running around
loose on the campus and targeting coeds, but that turns out to be a befuddling
subplot, prompting this reviewer to wonder if perhaps there had been more to it
in the early stages of the writing. Nevertheless, it serves as a red herring to
the main tale, involving the Safians’ relationship with Dr. Hill, a new tenant
in their house. He’s handsome, slick, sexy, and projects trouble from the
get-go.
Things
get complicated when Tracy must have emergency surgery on her ovaries, and it’s
Dr. Hill who is called into the operating room. For the first time in his
career, Hill screws up, and Tracy is left infertile. Lawsuits fly, and Tracy
also leaves Andy because he gave Hill the go-ahead to perform the operation
during a life-and-death time limit. To reveal anything else about the story
would involve major spoilers.
Malice
is surprisingly
enjoyable as a guilty pleasure. The three leads are very good, but there is
also fine work from Bebe Neuwirth as the local cop, Peter Gallagher as Tracy’s
attorney, Anne Bancroft and George C. Scott in cameos as Tracy’s mother and Dr.
Hill’s mentor, respectively, and a very young Gwyneth Paltrow as one of
Andy’s college students. Jerry Goldsmith’s haunting-lullaby score augments the
proceedings.
Acceptable
graininess aside, Kino Lorber’s high definition restoration looks good enough,
especially since the cinematography is by the formidable Gordon Willis. It
comes with English subtitles for the hearing impaired, but alas, no other
supplements except a couple of trailers.
Malice
may
not be a corker, but the picture exhibits solid mid-level Hollywood filmmaking
with up-and-coming talent that would go on to bigger and better things. Worth a
look.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON
“DE
SICA VS. SELZNICK = 2 MOVIES IN 1â€
By
Raymond Benson
Here’s
an interesting lesson in filmmaking. Students of the art might learn something
by watching the two different cuts of this motion picture to see what happens when
a movie is edited down—especially when the original was made by a bona fide artist
as opposed to a slick Hollywood producer who, albeit successful, might not
know everything.
David
O. Selznick was a powerhouse producer and head of his own personal studio (he
had, after all, produced Gone with the Wind, Rebecca, Spellbound,
and many other Hollywood classics). Vittorio De Sica was the purveyor of
Italian Neo-realism (along with Roberto Rossellini) and was responsible for
such art house masterpieces as Shoeshine and Bicycle Thieves (aka
The Bicycle Thief). They teamed up in the early 1950s to make a movie
together. Selznick would produce—and the film would star his then-wife,
Jennifer Jones—and De Sica would direct.
It
did not go well. Reportedly, Selznick and De Sica constantly clashed during
production. Jones’ co-star, Montgomery Clift, allegedly called it one of the
worst experiences of his career.
Terminal
Station,
the original De Sica film, was first released in 1953 in Italy (as Stazione
Termini) in Italian with Jones and Clift dubbed. Another English version
with the two actors’ real voices was also made, and all the Italians were
dubbed in English. This cut of the film is around 90 minutes in length and has
circulated internationally. Based on a short story by Cesare Zavattini, the
script was adapted by Luigi Chiarini and Giorgio Prosperi—but Selznick brought
in a couple of Hollywood writers for the English dialogue, including Truman
Capote, who got screen credit with the two Italians.
When
Selznick saw the completed Terminal Station, he hated it. Against De
Sica’s wishes, Selznick re-cut the film—throwing out nearly 25 minutes—and
adding a silly 8-minute prologue “short†to round out the feature length from
64 minutes to 72. Retitled Indiscretion of an American Wife, the picture
was released in America in 1954, and in England as Indiscretion. Selznick’s
name does not appear anywhere in the credits (except in the tiny copyright line
beneath the title card).
The
general contemporary consensus from U.S. critics and audiences alike was that Indiscretion
of an American Wife was terrible. It quickly disappeared, despite an Oscar
nomination for Best Costumes (black and white) and the creation of a couple of
standard songs in the prologue (“Autumn in Rome†and “Indiscretion,†both sung
by newcomer Patti Page, making her debut appearance in a movie).
HOWEVER—Vittorio
De Sica’s original Terminal Station is absolutely wonderful! It is a
heart-wrenching, emotional, and yet simple tale of a married American woman,
Mary (Jones) who has just arrived at Rome’s famous Stazioni Termini to catch a
train to go back to Paris and then to America. She had been visiting her
sister’s family in the city, but she had fallen in love and had an affair with
an Italian American, Giovanni (Clift). Guilt-ridden, but also convinced she is
in a loveless marriage back home and has finally found her “beau ideal,†Mary
is conflicted about returning to her husband and daughter. The entire story
takes place in real time as Giovanni attempts to persuade Mary to stay before
the inevitable train departure.
Continue reading "REVIEW: “INDISCRETION OF AN AMERICAN WIFE / TERMINAL STATION†(1953) STARRING JENNIFER JONES AND MONTGOMERY CLIFT; BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION"
“CLINICAL
EXPLOITATIONâ€
By
Raymond Benson
There
have always been what have been termed in the motion picture industry
“exploitation films,†even back in the silent days. The late 1930s and much of
the 1940s, however, saw a deluge of cheap, not-even-“B†pictures made, usually
independently of Hollywood and marketed in guerilla fashion as “educationalâ€
adult fare. You know the type. Reefer Madness. Child Bride. Marihuana.
In
the 40s, especially in the wake of World War II, the Baby Boomer phenomenon was
just beginning, and there was a need for sexual hygiene education for young
people—at least, that’s what the makers of these tawdry movies told the public.
There most certainly was a necessity for Sex Ed in schools—and some legitimate
companies stepped up to the plate to create “clinical†material shown to
gender-segregated classrooms dealing with the facts of life, menstruation, and
venereal disease. I can remember being in fifth or sixth grade in the early 1960s…
all the girls were ushered out of class for an hour for a special screening of
some cryptic film that all the boys were curious about, but of course had no
idea what it could possibly be. Whenever we asked any of the girls what they
had seen, we were met with an emphatic, “I’m not telling you!†This just
made the event even more of a mystery.
In
the 1940s, a producer who was really nothing more than a snake oil salesman—but
a very successful one—named Kroger Babb specialized in making, at the time,
sexually frank and sometimes explicit but so-called educational films that were
really nothing more than exploitative and an attempt to attract an audience
with prurient inquisitiveness. Mom and Dad, first seen in 1945, might
be the most successful of any of these pictures. In fact, it was one of the
biggest box office hits of the entire decade and beyond, as it was exhibited up
until the 1970s.
Babb
and his team would come to town, rent a theater for a week or two, and
distribute promotional materials and place ads in local papers that hawked the
film’s “moral†and educational aspects, and that it was something every young
adult must see (no children allowed). There was, of course, push back from
churches, public officials, and the law. In some territories the film was
banned (the New York State Supreme Court finally allowed it to be shown in
their state after years of being unseen). All this served to boost audience
interest! And if there wasn’t much of a protest, then Babb intentionally created
and distributed his own fake outrage in flyers and such to drum up the
enthusiasm!
Screenings
also featured a lecture during intermission by a “medical specialist†named
Elliot Forbes—who was really a hired actor. This interlude also served as a
chance to sell sexual hygiene literature produced as tie-ins to the film.
Interestingly, in African American communities, the Elliot Forbes role was
taken by none other than Olympic star Jesse Owens (who was most likely
handsomely paid).
Continue reading "REVIEW: "MOM AND DAD" (1945) (FORBIDDEN FRUIT: GOLDEN EXPLOITATION PICTURE VOL. 1) BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION"
“A
NAZI OR NOT-ZI?â€
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 HERE.)
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 movies from the American Film Theatre
in individual packages, upgraded to high definition Blu-ray. One recent title
is the picture that closed the series in 1975, The Man in the Glass Booth,
which earned star Maximilian Schell a Best Actor Oscar nomination. Schell lost
to Jack Nicholson (for One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest), but his
performance is a tour-de-force and perhaps the actor’s crowning achievement on
screen.
You
won’t see playwright/actor Robert Shaw’s name anywhere in the credits of this
film adaptation of his play because—in a departure from the AFT’s directive—the
text was changed in many places to allow for a more cinematic experience…and Shaw
was unhappy about it and had his name removed. However, director Hiller reports
in an interview (a supplement on the disk) that when Shaw saw the film prior to
its premiere, he was extremely pleased and asked that his name be reinstated,
but it was too late!
Nevertheless,
the film is a riveting, first-rate drama. The story, loosely inspired by the
abduction and trial of Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann, concerns Arthur
Goldman, a wealthy Jew in New York City, who is captured by an Israeli commando
team and flown to Israel to stand trial as a concentration camp commander. Is
the man really the Nazi colonel, or is he impersonating him because in truth
he’s just a guilt-ridden Holocaust survivor?
The
film co-stars Lawrence Pressman as Goldman’s faithful assistant and Lois
Nettleton as the Israeli prosecutor—both are terrific. Nevertheless, it is
Schell who carries the film on his shoulders to great heights.
Kino
Classics’ new Blu-ray is a 2K restoration from the original 35mm negative and
looks wonderful. Supplements included are the previously mentioned interview
with director Hiller, an interview with co-producer Edie Landau, and a short
promo piece on the AFT featuring Ely Landau (the latter two pieces also appear
on every Kino Blu-ray re-issue of each title in the series). There are also
trailers for the other AFT releases.
The
Man in the Glass Booth is highly recommended viewing, not only for Schell’s
brilliant performance, but also for a powerful meditation on the Holocaust and
its survivors.
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“KILLER
WRITERâ€
By
Raymond Benson
The
likely apocryphal story Fritz Lang told folks was that in 1933, after enjoying a
successful career with German silent films and a couple of talkies, he was
invited to a meeting with Joseph Goebbels. The job offer was to be in charge of
the Nazis’ propaganda filmmaking. Lang, a Jew, nodded enthusiastically, went
straight to the train station without going home to pack a bag, and fled the
country. He left behind his wife (who was a member of the Nazi party), spent
some time in France, and then came to Hollywood. The rest, as they say, is
history.
Lang
worked in all genres but specialized in crime pictures (some of the best examples
of film noir). Most of his work in any of the genres are dark,
pessimistic, and have a bite. His 1950 noir, House by the River, which
was based on a novel by A. P. Herbert and adapted to the screen by Mel Dinelli,
fits into this mold. While not a huge box office or critical success, House manages
to be an atmospheric, entertaining murder tale despite its predictability.
We
know from the beginning who the killer is. Stephen Byrne (Louis Hayward) is a
successful novelist who resides with his wife Marjorie (Jane Wyatt) and a hot new
live-in maid, Emily (Dorothy Patrick). Stephen’s handicapped brother, John (Lee
Bowman), lives nearby and is a frequent visitor. In fact, the Byrne marriage is
not in a great place, and John and Marjorie harbor feelings for each other.
Stephen, unfortunately, becomes a deranged lunatic when he drinks, and one
night when Marjorie is away, he assaults Emily and ends up strangling her.
Stephen convinces John, who loves his madman brother anyway, to help him
dispose of the body in the river that flows by the house. Of course, the body
eventually floats up, is discovered by the police, and there are clues that
point to… John. The story then becomes one of not whodunnit, but will-the-right-guy-get-arrested?
The
three leads are very good, even though Hayward’s crazy-writer act is over the
top—but it somehow works within the style of the piece and with Lang’s
direction.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration looks fine, bringing out an unusual black and
white soft focus (the cinematography is by Edward J. Cronjager) that helps
establish the moody milieu. The supplements are an audio commentary by film
historian Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, and an interview with producer and
historian Pierre Rissient. Theatrical trailers for this and other Kino Lorber
titles are included.
House
by the River is
an intriguing character study, and also perhaps a warning to authors out there
that it’s not always a good thing to “write what you know.â€
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“BOGARDE,
PINTER, & LOSEYâ€
By
Raymond Benson
You
have to hand it to Kino Lorber—they are releasing an amazing number of esoteric
non-mainstream titles from yesteryear that might have otherwise never made it
to home video.
Case
in point—Accident, a 1967 British picture directed by Joseph Losey, the
American expat who fled the U.S. after being blacklisted in the early 50s.
Written by the brilliant Harold Pinter (and based on the novel by Nicholas
Mosley), the picture stars Dirk Bogarde, Stanley Baker, Jacqueline Sassard,
Michael York, and Vivien Merchant (Pinter’s wife at the time). Although it
didn’t make much headway at the box office and was little seen in America, Accident
won the Jury Prize at that year’s Cannes Film Festival.
Given
the talent roster associated with the film, it decidedly comes off as an art
film emblazoned as such in neon. The script is much like Pinter’s own stage
plays, the “theatre of menace,†in which lines of seemingly innocent dialogue can
portend sinister subtext, and sometimes a second layer of subtext beneath that.
Losey creates a moody, atmospheric tale that, on a good night, might captivate
an audience. Unfortunately, on a bad night, it can also be deadly dull.
Stephen
(Bogarde) is a handsome and well-liked teacher at Oxford, and he admires two of
his current students—William (York), a pleasant enough chap, and especially
Anna (Sassard), an exotically-gorgeous European who is allegedly a princess from
somewhere. William is infatuated with Anna, and Stephen has no problem
encouraging them to become a couple. The problem is that Stephen also has the
hots for her, as does his colleague, Charley (Baker). Compounding the conundrum
is that Stephen is married with two children and a third on the way. Thus, the
story is a complex and pointed three-men-and-a-girl seduction that doesn’t go
well for anyone, especially since the movie begins with a car accident
involving William and Anna (the rest of the movie is a flashback leading up to it).
All
of the actors are fine in their roles. Watch for a comedic cameo by Pinter,
along with a young Freddie Jones, in an office scene that Douglas Adams might
have written.
Kino
Lorber’s high definition restoration looks quite good, and it comes with
English subtitles for the hearing impaired. Film historian Kat Ellinger
provides an audio commentary that augments the enigmatic drama. The only
supplements are theatrical trailers for this and other Kino Lorber titles.
Accident
is
an acquired taste, certainly for fans of Pinter and Losey, and of edgy
non-commercial British cinema of the late 60s.
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“BANK
HEIST BOOTYâ€
By
Raymond Benson
The
jaw-dropping gorgeous Ursula Andress gets top billing in this British caper
film directed by none other than Peter Hall, the genius stage director
of most of Harold Pinter’s great works, as well as Amadeus and Equus
and other brilliant pieces of art for the stage. He didn’t make many films,
though, but Perfect Friday, released in 1970, happens to be in his
filmography, and it’s a wacky entry indeed.
Andress
stars as Lady Brit Dorset, a pampered, glamorous wife of Lord Nick Dorset
(David Warner), and they team up with lower-class bank manager Mr. Graham
(Stanley Baker) to pull off an elaborate heist of £200,000.
Mr. Graham is really the protagonist of the story, so it’s unclear why Andress
received top billing—maybe it was an exchange for her appearing nude throughout
many sequences.
Graham,
bored with his job, gets the idea to rip off the reserve cash from the bank
where he works, so he enlists the eccentric Lord and Lady Dorset to be his
cohorts. Unfortunately for Lord Dorset, Graham falls in love with his wife, and
lo, there is much shagging. Lady Dorset continues to shag Lord Dorset as well,
even though Nick Dorset dresses as if he’s a member of a 1967 psychedelic pop
band, complete with false eyelashes, makeup, wigs, and frilly boas.
Did
we mention Perfect Friday is a comedy? It is, although the heist element
of the picture is handled rather seriously, so there is a mixture of genres going
on. Most of the movie is a farce of the ménage à trois, but the heist
sequence is cleverly thought out and entertaining. Exactly which booty are we
here for?
The
script by Scott Forbes and Anthony Greville-Bell is witty and intentionally scandalous
(after all, this is 1970) and is handled by director Hall with aplomb. Its
improbability and Swinging London sensibility is all part of the fun.
Kino
Lorber’s new high definition restoration immediately identifies it as a 1970s
picture—that color film stock is unmistakable. There are English subtitles for
the hearing impaired, along with a commentary by film historian and critic
Peter Tonguette. The only supplements are trailers for this and other Kino
Lorber releases.
Fans
of British filmmaking, heist capers, and Ursula Andress’ skin tone should get a
kick out of it.
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