The
prolific Hollywood producer Walter Mirisch was responsible for spearheading
such famed titles as Two for the Seesaw, Hawaii, In the Heat
of the Night, and Dracula (’79), and served as uncredited executive
producer for a number of high-profile pictures such as The Pink Panther,
The Great Escape, Fiddler on the Roof, and more. Mirisch got his
start, though, at the “Poverty Row†studio Monogram in the 1940s, where he
churned out a few low-budget crime dramas and film noir.
Mirisch’s
second feature for Monogram was a movie that has apparently been out of
circulation for decades. Considering its title, one might understand why… I
Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! is based on a novel of the same name by the
great mystery writer Cornell Woolrich, and the screenplay is by pulp writer
(e.g., Mystery Adventures magazine) Steve Fisher, who penned scripts for
such flicks as Destination Tokyo (1943), Johnny Angel (1945), Song
of the Thin Man (1947), and The Hunted (1947).
The
picture stars relative unknowns (today), but it’s a tight little “wrong manâ€
scenario that holds one’s interest despite having some plot and character aspects
that stretch credibility.
Tom
Quinn (Don Castle) is an out-of -work dancer in New York City, and he’s married
to Ann (Elyse Knox). Ann works at a dance joint where strange men tip her to
“provide dance lessons,†but it’s really a place where men attempt to get dates
with the dancers. One guy, whom Ann refers to as “Santa Claus†because of his
build, is very insistent on dancing with her (at least he tips her well). One
hot night, Tom and Ann are trying to get some sleep, and noisy cats are outside
howling in the alley. Tom gets up and throws his shoes out the window at
the cats to shut them up (who does this, really?). Realizing he needs his
shoes, Tom goes out to look for them. He can’t find them. Figuring he’ll search
again in daylight, he returns to the apartment and goes to sleep. The next
morning, his shoes are in the hallway outside the door. Later, he finds a
wallet with a lot of money in it, seemingly placed exactly where he would
stumble upon it. It turns out that a wealthy hermit who lived nearby was robbed
and murdered. The police discover a shoe print outside in the mud that matches
Tom’s shoes. Lo and behold, one of the detectives is none other than Clint
(Regis Toomey), the fellow Ann knows as “Santa Claus.†Tom, obviously framed,
is arrested, tried for murder, and convicted. He’s sentenced to die in the
electric chair, so Ann has a race against time to try and prove her husband
innocent. Perhaps if she gives Inspector Clint what he wants from her…?
Okay,
so Tom does a really dumb thing by throwing his shoes out the window. Then,
both he and Ann decide to keep the money he finds after it isn’t reported in
the papers. When they start to spend it, the police get wise to the couple. Later,
if Ann is so devoted to Tom, would she really start an affair with the
policeman who was responsible for Tom’s arrest? The affair is implied, of
course, or at least there is the promise of one if the guy helps her
investigate the crime further. And… maybe the legal machine operated more
quickly in the late 1940s, but Tom is swiftly tried, convicted, and sentenced, and
the execution date set—in seemingly record time!
These
quibbles aside, I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! does manage to entertain.
Viewers may very well guess who the real killer is earlier than the filmmakers
intended for that to occur, but one does get a “I was right!†feeling when the
identity is revealed.
Warner
Archive’s new Blu-ray restoration brings this little-seen picture out of the
vault, so to speak. It looks and sounds great. One supplement is The
Symphony Murder Mystery, a 1932 short written by S. S. Van Dine (who was
responsible for the “Philo Vance†mystery novels), one in a series of
“Criminologist Dr. Crabtree†mystery yarns that were made as short subjects in
the 30s (with Donald Meek as Crabtree). Its age shows, but it’s an interesting
curio from the era. A second extra is the Warner cartoon, Holiday for
Shoestrings, directed by Friz Freleng, a mostly pantomimed musical parody
of “The Elves and the Shoemaker†fable. Fun stuff.
I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! is a welcome diversion into Hollywood cinema of yesteryear.
By
all accounts, Jennie Logan (Lindsay Wagner) has it all – beauty, intelligence,
a loving husband (Alan Feinstein) named Michael, and a good friend in whom she
confides (Constance McCashin). While they do not have children, Jennie and Michael
seem to be unperturbed by the lack of tiny bare feet on the hardwood floors –
there is plenty of time for all of that. Or is there? Looks can be deceiving
and it is not long before we discover that this seemingly “perfect couple†have
their own demons to wrestle with.
Guided
on a tour of the sprawling Victorian manse prior to their eventual purchase by
a matter-of-fact realtor (Pat Corley) who off-handedly remarks that the
unfinished attic is unworthy of even the most cursory glance, Jennie feels
drawn to it, though she cannot fathom why. Following their purchase and move-in,
Jennie ventures into the attic and encounters a dress that is nearly 100
years-old (shades of John Hancock’s 1971 film Let’s Scare Jessica to Death).
Trying it on, it fits her perfectly, as though fashioned just for her.
All
is not well in the household, however. Michael tries to get close to Jennie but
she quickly withdraws, plagued by Michael’s betrayal and infidelity with one of
his students. Jennie’s willingness but inability to get past it puts a crimp in
their marriage. She feels that sex for Michael is like taking a shower or going
out for a jog, but despite his protests to the contrary he practically ignores
her while watching a sports game on television, despite her wearing the old
dress that makes her appear more fetching. The dress is the catalyst, a trigger
for Jennie to see and experience a complete and alternate reality that occurred
80 years prior that consists of an artist named David (Marc Singer) who grieves
the loss of his love, Pamela. After mistaking Jennie for Pamela, David spends
time getting to know Jennie while brushing off the affections of another woman,
Elizabeth Warrington (a nearly unrecognizable Linda Gray). David’s affections
turn towards Jennie, and she becomes fulfilled by him. The question then
becomes does Jennie really see and participate in this reality or is it
all just in her head, a projection for a life and a love that she once had, or thought
she had with Michael and lost, but still longs for? Much of the film reminds
me of the Harlequin romances my grandmother and aunt had stacked in their
basements.
The
Two Worlds of Jennie Logan
is the title of this 1979 made-for-television movie that is based on the 1978
novel Second Chance by David L. Williams. I am probably in the minority
here, but Jennie Logan is an above-average outing with an intriguing
story about love, longing and the perpetual life question of the road not taken,
though contemporary audiences will no doubt find it trite and saccharine. As
someone who grew up in the 1970s, I enjoy even the most basic of television
movies as they were a lot more innocent back then in a time before the
1000-plus cable stations offered us game shows, talk shows with despicable
guests, crime dramas, politics, and the rest of it. The world was slower and
not so crazy. Some of these television films worked (Steven Spielberg’s 1971
film Duel) and many of them did not (Corey Allen’s 1985 outing Beverly
Hills Cowgirl Blues). The innocence of these films is one of the reasons
why television movies were not regarded very highly when they were made, and
certainly not today. For me, less was more and although most audiences
and reviewers look upon the average television movie with disdain, I have
always had an affection for them that holds forth now.
Lindsay
Wagner and Alan Feinstein (who reminds me of Daniel Hugh Kelly as the cuckolded
husband in Lewis Teague’s 1983 film Cujo) give decent television movie-of-the-week
performances as the couple besieged by turmoil. Jennie visits a psychiatrist
(Joan Darling) to get a handle on her issues, leading the doctor to believe
that this is all mental, a diagnosis Michael concurs with, though Jennie
believes otherwise. A trip to a local library and discussions with librarian Mrs.
Bates (Irene Tedrow, who bears a resemblance to Fay Compton, the actress who
played Mrs. Sannerson in Robert Wise’s 1963 thriller The Haunting) puts
Jennie into contact with information that she hopes will alter the course of
David’s life so that she can be with him. Her discussion with an elderly
bedridden invalid is shocking in how frightening the woman’s face is – think of
Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath (1963).
The
late writer and director Frank De Felitta is no stranger to supernatural
material. He directed The Stately Ghosts of England for NBC (1965) and the
beloved Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981). He also wrote the novels and
screenplays for Audrey Rose (1977) and The Entity (1982). Here,
he adapts material from another author. While portions of the film take place
in 1899, Marc Singer’s beefcake stature looks out-of-place as though he is
anticipating the arrival of Fabio, but it should please women and fans
of The Beastmaster (1982), the film he is best known for.
Composer
Glenn Paxton provides a lush and romantic score to complement the onscreen
action.
Jennie
Logan premiered on the
CBS network on Halloween night in 1979 and has been released on Blu-ray from
Australia-based Via Vision Entertainment through their Imprint label, the fine company
responsible for the recent Scarface (1932) and Breakdown (1997)
Blu-rays. Here, they offer up a region-free, pristine transfer with a wonderfully
entertaining commentary by critic Kevin Lyons who speaks eloquently and
knowledgeably about the film. He gives us some interesting on-set anecdotes
about the making of the film, such as modifications made to the set as Ms.
Wagner was unable to reach the handle to the attic; a history of the house in
which the film was shot; director De Felitta making The Stately Ghosts of
England, only to discover that the reels were blank after being developed
and having to plead with the ghosts in the location where they were filming not
to mess with the production!
There
is a nice twist at the end of the film, and if you have ever lost a love in the
fashion that Michael loses Jennie, it will have an impact on you.
I
originally saw the Brian De Palma/Al Pacino version of Scarface (1983) on
laserdisc in 1994 and again in a 20th anniversary theatrical
screening in New York, but not since. Recently, I decided to have revisit it on
Netflix and was amazed that I recalled very little of it. The constant use of
profanity and the intensity of some of the violent set pieces, in particular
the notorious chainsaw scene, are tamer than the language and the most violent moments
of HBO’s The Sopranos (1999 – 2007) and Showtime’s Brotherhood
(2006 – 2008). However, in 1983 Universal Pictures was prompted to release the
film with the following caveat in the newspaper ads when the film was released
in December: “CAUTION – Scarface is an intense film both in its use of
language and depiction of violence. We suggest mature audiences.†While one
might think this was a publicity stunt with the objective to get as many people
to see the film as possible, it could very well have instead been a compromise
to having the film released without the dreaded X rating. Director De Palma was
no stranger to sparring with the then Motion Picture Association of America
(MPAA) and its president, Richard Heffner. Previously, Mr. De Palma’s 1980 film
Dressed to Kill needed to be altered to avoid an X and he went back and
forth with the MPAA on the violence and overt sexual nature of the film until
it was releasable. It is interesting to note that the X rating, generally
associated with explicit sexual content as opposed to violence, was also given
to John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy when it was released in May 1969
(later changed to an R rating), Stanley Kubrick’s masterful A Clockwork
Orange in December 1971 (also later changed to an R rating following the
removal of several seconds of footage), and most famously, to Bernardo
Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris in February 1973 (recently changed to
NC-17). Tango garnered critical acclaim from New Yorker reviewer Pauline
Kael and, arguably because of the promise of sex scenes with the then
45-year-old Marlon Brando, did boffo box office. These are the cinema’s most
notable examples, with Cowboy winning the Best Picture Oscar and Clockwork
being nominated but losing to William Friedkin’s The French Connection
(1971) for that top prize. In the end, Scarface received an R rating and
grossed several million dollars shy of its $23.5M budget but, like so many
films of that period, cleaned up later on from ancillary sources such as home
video and cable television airings. It has become one of the most famous and
beloved motion pictures in recent memory, adding Al Pacino’s famous line about
saying hello to his little friend to the American lexicon, right up there with
Roy Scheider’s quip about needing a bigger boat in Jaws (1975).
It
is interesting to note that the very existence of Scarface began with the
original film of the same name made roughly fifty years prior to it and served
as the blueprint for Mr. Pacino’s interpretation of Cuban arrival Antonio
Montana and his rise to fame in the cocaine-laden backdrop of Miami, FL. Directed
by Howard Hawks between September 1930 and March 1931 and written by playwright
Ben Hecht, Scarface (1932), then billed as Scarface, the Shame of a
Nation, opened at the Rialto Theatre in New York City on Thursday, May 19,
1932 and, like the remake, also suffered its own share of controversy for
violence and sexuality, though not due to the same intensity as the remake. Coming
on the heels of Mervyn Leroy’s Little Caesar with Edward G. Robinson and
William A. Wellman’s The Public Enemy, both from 1931, Scarface
is widely considered to be the start of cinema’s depiction of and fascination
with gangsters and crime dramas. We are in 1920s Chicago in the time of Al
Capone (upon whose life the film is loosely based) and gangland wars between
the city’s North Side and South Side. The film begins with a single take that
runs just over three minutes in a setup that sets the tone. This must have been
deemed very suspenseful at the time and, while not nearly as intricate as the
three-minute mobile crane shot that opens Orson Welles’s Touch of Evil
(1957) or the three-minute Panaglide shot that starts John Carpenter’s Halloween
(1978), it manages to build tension for an audience not used to seeing such
cinematic techniques at the time.
The
story gets underway with “Big†Louis Costillo (Harry J. Vegar), the most
successful crime boss on the city’s South Side, talking and laughing with
members of his crew at a restaurant when heads to a phone booth. In the
shadows, still in the same opening take, Antonio “Tony†Camonte (Paul Muni),
Costillo’s own hired muscle, appears in silhouette and kills him in a murder contracted
with him by John “Johnny†Lovo (Osgood Perkins), his new boss. This being the
era of Prohibition, the main source of income is not cocaine but beer to be
delivered to speakeasies. A police officer heads to a barbershop the next day
and brings Tony in for questioning, determined to finger him for Costillo’s murder.
A lawyer pulls some strings and gets Tony out of it, but the police want to
catch him in the act of a crime, and they are more determined than ever. As it
stands Johnny, Tony’s new boss, now controls the South Side, with Tony and the
reticent Rinaldo (George Raft in a menacing performance) at his side. Rinaldo
reminds me of Al Neri, Michael Corleone’s reticent henchman in The Godfather
films, played icily by the late Richard Bright.
The
North Side is run by a man named O’Hara and Tony’s thirst for power begins to
swell. Johnny warns him not to mess with business associates on the North Side
because, in the words of Tony Soprano, “it attracts negative attention†and
potential violence. Tony also has his eye on Poppy (Karen Morley), Johnny’s
girlfriend, who initially shrugs Tony off, but warms up to him later when his
flirtations increase as he becomes more intrigued by her. In his apartment, he
shows her the sight of an electric billboard across the way advertising Cook’s
Tours beneath the slogan “The World is Yours,†taken to excessive extremes in
the De Palma remake.
I
love Joe Dante. He has directed some hugely entertaining films and is an
aficionado of the same genres I adore. Additionally, like most film directors,
he is highly versed in cinemaspeak. My introduction to his work came in 1983
when I bought his werewolf classic The Howling (1981) sight-unseen on
RCA’s now extinct CED system and immediately took to it. That failed stylus-based
videodisc format was severely limited to only several thousand titles, so I had
to rely on VHS to catch up with his Hollywood Boulevard (1976), Piranha
(1978), and Rock ‘n’ Roll High School (1979) in the mid-80’s following
theatrical viewings of Twilight Zone: The Movie in 1983 and Gremlins
in 1984. For some reason, his July 12, 1985-released outing Explorers,
which concerns the escapades of three young boys making their way through the
battlefield of junior high school, escaped my list of “must see†films during
that summer and I was only vaguely aware of it through a high school friend who
took to it. Looking back at the film’s opening weekend, it was rushed into
theaters almost ten days after Robert Zemeckis’s already phenomenally
successful Back to the Future and was also pitted against the Live-Aid
concert which was seen by nearly 2 billion people on television. Plus, I was
four months away from obtaining my driver’s license, so I still had to
embarrassingly prod my parents for trips to the theater which was some 10 miles
away.
Filmed
between October 1984 and February 1985, Explorers is most notable for
being the feature film debuts of Ethan Hawke and the late River Phoenix, both
of whom were 14 when the film was shot. Mr. Hawke landed the role while
accompanying a friend to the audition and had no previous acting experience. Mr.
Phoenix had already garnered a significant amount of television credits to his
name by the time filming began. Filling out the triumvirate is Jason Presson,
who appeared in Christopher Cain’s 1984 film The Stone Boy opposite
Robert Duvall and Glenn Close.
We
have all have had dreams of flying. A recurring dream of mine from childhood
consists of me flying on the top of a tree over the street I grew up on and
coming crashing down on to the pavement, awakening immediately afterwards. In Explorers,
Ben (Ethan Hawke) is a teenage science fiction aficionado who gravitates to
films of previous decades, such as War of the Worlds (1953) and This
Island Earth (1955). This rang true for me as my father gave me a copy of
the June 1978 issue of Star Encounters magazine when I was ten which
featured films from this era and was my introduction to them. Ben also dreams
of flying – in the clouds, and over a city that looks a lot like a circuit
board, the schematic of which he draws upon wakening. He shows these sketches
to his friend Wolfgang (River Phoenix) who is studious, nerdy and comes from an
eccentric family. Wolfgang does not have time for frivolities such as teenage
crushes, something that plagues Ben with his infatuation with Lori (the late
Amanda Petersen). Darren (Jason Presson) is disillusioned. His parents are
divorced, and his father has a girlfriend whom his dad argues with. He
befriends Ben and Wolfgang as an escape, but they share similar interests.
Using
Ben’s scribblings as a guide, Wolfgang builds a microchip that can create a
huge bubble that encompasses a large space while moving at incredibly fast
speeds. They take it upon themselves to build their own flying saucer out of an
old Tilt-A-Whirl ride, which they christen “Thunder Road†based on the name of
the song by The Boss. More of Ben’s dreams result in answers to limiting
issues, such as finding a way to produce an unlimited amount of oxygen on the
ship in order to leave Earth’s orbit, which they succeed in doing and end up
captured by a huge ship manned by aliens whose understanding of Earth is based
on television reruns. While this notion may have seemed interesting and
original on paper by the screenwriter, it eventually wears a bit thin in an
overly rambunctious episode that lasts longer than it should. Needless to say,
the boys make their way back to Earth and, well, you’ll just have to see for
yourself as to how their adventure ends.
When
I watched the special edition of The Howling on laserdisc in 1996, I
vaguely recalled Joe Dante mentioning that he had had a three-hour cut of Explorers,
but that it went missing, or it was stolen, etc. I often wonder how that
version would have fared in comparison. Watching Explorers now is
bittersweet as it contains performances by several people who tragically left
this world much too soon. Building on the special effects used to atmospheric
effect in Walt Disney’s Tron (1982), Explorers does an admirable
job of pushing the effects a little further. It is definitely an ‘80’s film and
that is something that cannot be faked. Rob Bottin, the genius behind the
effects for John Carpenter’s The Thing, created the aliens in this film,
with Robert Picardo of The Howling donning the makeup and costumes.
A
new special edition of the film is available on Blu-ray from Shout! Factory and it includes the home
video & theatrical cuts of the film, the differences of which were
imperceptible to me but probably stand out to die-hard fans more familiar with
it.
A
Science Fiction Fairy Tale: The Story of Explorers is a piece that runs about 65 minutes
and features new interviews with those involved with the production of the
film. Screenwriter Eric Luke explains having been given a copy of “Worlds of Ifâ€
magazine as a child ended up whetting his appetite, and he later worked at Los
Angeles’s A Change of Hobbit Bookstore which catered to science fiction
aficionados. Darlene Chan, the Junior Executive in charge of production, really
loved the script and how innocent it was. David Kirkpatrick, who was the Senior
Executive in charge of production of the film, reminisces on how the script
made him feel like a child again. Ernest Cline, author of Ready Player One,
echoes those sentiments. Ethan Hawke describes how the film got him his start
in acting.
Explorers was a far more ambitious film in
conception than it ended up being in execution. Numerous public screenings with
negative feedback unfortunately resulted in much of the original material
ending up on the proverbial cutting room floor as the studio rushed it into
theaters far too quickly.
Deleted
Scenes with Optional Commentary By Joe Dante – Further character beats enhanced in footage gleaned from a
Betamax-quality workprint found buried in the director’s garage reveals a far
more interesting dynamic than what is alluded to in the final film, truncated
at Paramount’s request due to an unreasonable running time. This segment runs
about 34 minutes and includes the Amanda Peterson birthday party scene; a
dinner scene with Ethan Hawke and his parents; a wordless scene wherein Mary
Kay Place finds the February 1982 issue of Playboy in her son’s room; more
of the alien ad-libs; a cute reference to Poltergeist (1982); and many
more. It can be viewed with on-set audio or alternatively with director Dante’s
comments. It would have been nice if the entire feature contained a commentary
– it’s absence is puzzling.
Interview
with Cinematographer John Hora
– at just under four minutes, this is a discussion of the challenges that the
production ran into while shooting a film with minors during the Fall. Dick
Miller, who passed away in January 2019, comes in at the end, which only made
me want to see more.
Interview
with Editor Tina Hirsch
– this piece runs over six minutes with the film’s editor and really makes me
want to see the full cut of the film!
The
theatrical trailer is also included.
While
watching the film now I cannot help but be reminded of the Netflix series Stranger
Things which takes place beginning in November 1983, and the wonderful
camaraderie among the youngsters on the show. Explorers, despite being
the unfortunate mess that it is, is a reminder of our childhood friendships and
how things truly seemed possible, no matter how farfetched they seemed.
Want
a fast-paced action thriller, starring attractive leads and a precocious dog,
that deals with Nazi spies in the political climate immediately following the
war, and be done with it in only 62 minutes? This 1946 potboiler directed by
Phil Rosen and starring notorious Lawrence Tierney is for you!
Step
by Step is
not a film noir, which was what most crime pictures ended up stylistically
becoming in the period after World War II. Instead, it’s a rollicking good
action drama that packs what today might be two hours’ worth of plot into a
don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-something single hour. The picture is not only
well-written (screenplay by Stuart Palmer, story by George Callahan) and
well-shot, it has a superb cast that functions quite well in this tight little
ride.
Perhaps
most interesting for today’s audience is the leading man presence of Lawrence
Tierney, who had burst onto the Hollywood scene with the previous year’s Dillinger.
Handsome, rugged, and tough, Tierney could have been a major star… but he blew
it with his off-screen behavior that got him into trouble. Tierney was known to
have alcohol problems and was arrested many times for brawling in public.
Quentin Tarantino brought him—and his legendary Hollywood bad boy reputation—back
into the mainstream in a major guest cameo in Reservoir Dogs (1992). At
any rate, seeing him in Step by Step—young, virile, and surprisingly personable—is
a revelation.
Tierney
plays Johnny, a Marine veteran just home from the war. His smart little
terrier, Bazuka, follows him everywhere. He meets a gorgeous blonde, Evelyn
(Anne Jeffreys), on the beach. Evelyn is a secretary for Senator Remmy (Harry
Harvey, Sr.), who is working with a National Security agent to uncover the
identities and whereabouts of leftover Nazi spies in the USA who are planning
on committing terrorist acts. Before Johnny can see Evelyn again, however, a
trio of the baddies (Lowell Gilmore, Jason Robards Sr., and Myrna Dell), abduct
the senator and Evelyn. Johnny and Bazuka take it upon themselves to rescue
Evelyn—but in the process Johnny and Evelyn are accused by the police of being
murderers and fugitives!
Thus,
Step by Step is a spy movie, a chase picture, a lovers-on-the-run flick,
and even a boy-and-his-dog film… all bundled into a compact ball of excitement.
The
Warner Archive’s new Blu-ray release looks terrific. There are a couple of
welcome supplements, too. The Trans-Atlantic Mystery is a 1932 short
written by S. S. Van Dine (who was responsible for the “Philo Vance†mystery
novels), one in a series of “Criminologist Dr. Crabtree†mystery yarns that
were made as short subjects in the 30s (with Donald Meek as Crabtree). Its age
shows, but it’s an interesting curio from the era. Also included on the disk is
the fabulous Daffy Duck cartoon, The Great Piggy Bank Robbery, in which
Daffy becomes “Duck Twacy.†Great stuff.
Step
by Step from
Warner Archive is a surprising, little-known title from yesteryear that packs a
punch. Highly recommended.
The
great Richard Matheson wrote a number of fabulous works in genre
fiction—novels, short stories, screenplays, and teleplays—and was one of the
main writers of the original The Twilight Zone TV series. This reviewer
considers the man a genius of his craft, as Matheson was responsible for some
truly classic science fiction, horror, and mystery tales.
Matheson’s
first published novel, Someone is Bleeding (1953), however, is not one
of the author’s best-known titles. It is a psychological thriller in which the
leading lady may or may not be a crazed killer. The novel was adapted and
filmed in 1974 in France with the title Les seins de glace, which
translates to… Icy Breasts, though the film was released in some countries under the novel's title.
Perhaps
Richard Matheson ended up being happy that the filmmakers did not use his
original title. While it contains some interesting moments, a couple of eye
candy stars, and a story that is somewhat compelling (mainly because one wants
to see how it winds up), Icy Breasts suffers from heavy-handed direction
and poor acting.
Claude
Brasseur plays François Rollin, the protagonist of the story,
even though Brasseur was billed third (popular Alain Delon received top billing,
and his life-partner at the time, Mireille Darc, got second billing). All three
actors have done much, much better work in other movies.
Rollin
is a successful television writer who lives in the south of France near Nice.
One day he meets beautiful but obviously troubled Peggy (Darc) on the beach. She
is standoffish at first, but eventually warms to Rollin’s flirtations and
advances. But Peggy has some dark secrets. She is watched over by the
mysterious wealthy lawyer, Marc Rilson (Delon), who employs creepy Steig
(Emilio Messina), a chauffeur/bodyguard worthy of a Bond movie. Rilson is in an
unhappy marriage to a creepy but beautiful woman (Nicoletta Machiavelli), and
also provides a home for a similarly creepy, bitter brother. Peggy’s own creepy
gardener/housekeeper, Albert (Michel Peyrelon), works for Rilson in order to
keep an eye on Peggy. There’s a lot of creepy going on! Rollin, who has
fallen hard for Peggy, wants to know why everything surrounding her is so
creepy. Eventually he learns that Peggy may or may have not stabbed her husband
to death. Rilson was the lawyer who got her off on an insanity defense. But is
she insane? If so, why isn’t she institutionalized? Or had she been? One thing
is certain—Peggy cannot stand to be touched by a man and becomes irrational and
violent when that occurs. Once the body count starts to increase and threats
from Rilson begin to multiply, Rollin realizes he may be in over his head.
Ice
Breasts is
a little similar in tone and feel to Play Misty for Me (1971) and
perhaps the filmmakers had that movie in mind. Unfortunately, Icy Breasts is
nowhere near as successful a psychological thriller as Misty. Brasseur’s
acting is over-the-top jovial, lively, and energetic. His character is
attempting to be funny and charming to Peggy, but often he just comes off as a
jerk. Is he an idiot? Can’t he see that Peggy is Trouble with a capital T? And
wouldn’t being physically assaulted more than once make a sensible person turn
and run the other way? Contrasting with Mr. Joviality are the rest of the
actors. Delon, Darc, and the henchmen take their roles so seriously that one
would think they’re in an Ingmar Bergman drama. The direction is simply too
ham-fisted.
On
the plus side, the movie is pretty to look at. The Nice and Antibes locations
are scenic. Both Delon and Darc are gorgeous and do light up the screen. The
story is interesting enough to hold one’s attention.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray release ports over the StudioCanal 4K restoration from the
original camera negative, which emphasizes that distinctive 1970s film stock
look. The soundtrack includes both the original French (preferred, with English
subtitles) and English-dubbed (avoid!) versions. There is an audio commentary
by film historians Howard S. Berger, Steve Mitchell, and Nathaniel Thompson
that is perhaps more enlightening than the film itself. Rounding out the
package is the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino Lorber releases.
Icy
Breasts is
for fans of French cinema, Richard Matheson, Alain Delon, and 1970s thrillers.
Kino
Lorber and Something Weird Video continue their collaboration to present
“Forbidden Fruit: The Golden Age of the Exploitation Picture†with Volume 11—Girl
Gang/Pin-Down Girl, a double bill of so-bad-they’re-funny early 1950s
“crime†movies. They were marketed as such, but they were really what passed
for softcore in those days. If the movie ratings had existed then, these two gems
would likely have been rated “R.â€
These
delicious and suitably sleazy pictures in the “Forbidden Fruit†series were
made cheaply and outside the Hollywood system. They were distributed
independently in the manner of a circus sideshow, often by renting a movie
theater for a few nights, advertising in the local papers, and promoting the
scandalous title as “educational.†It’s certain, however, that in this case
both Girl Gang and Pin-Down Girl are not educational in any way
except to show you how to use illegal drugs (uh oh!), and to appeal to prurient
interests.
Producer
George Weiss specialized in fare that defiantly challenged the Production Code
and therefore made cheap—very cheap—exploitation flicks with filmmakers
and actors who were not, shall we say, A-list material. For example, Weiss
produced Ed Wood’s notorious Glen or Glenda (1953), along with Test
Tube Babies (1948, previously reviewed in Cinema Retro as part of
the “Forbidden Fruit†series). Weiss is responsible for both titles in Volume
11.
Girl
Gang (1954)
is a hoot. Unintentionally hilarious, it’s one of the better titles in the
series. Exploitation film regular Timothy Farrell is Joe, the sleazy leader of
a “girl gang†of outlaws—all of them thieves, drug users and dealers, and con
artists who use sex as bait. Joe gets help from alcoholic Doc Bradford (Harry
Keatan), who regularly checks the young women for, presumably, pregnancy and
venereal diseases. There are a handful of young men in the gang who act as
muscle, but mostly the members are 1950s-era Bettie Page-types who, for
example, might hitchhike to stop an unsuspecting male motorist. Once two of the
girls are in the car with him, two more drive up. The four women beat up the
man, rob him, and hijack his car. Back at headquarters, Joe gives them “weed to
make them less anxious.†Some of them have already graduated to heroin. The
alpha-gal is June (Joanne Arnold, a popular pin-up model and occasional actress
of the day), and she sets out to make a big score by seducing and fleecing an
insurance agency head who she gets a part time job working for. Yes, folks, you’ll hear
some of that devil boogey-woogey rock ‘n’ roll and see pot-smoking, smack-shooting,
gunplay and beatings, and scantily clad women, all in a head-spinning 63
minutes.
There
are truly some laugh-out-loud moments, such as when one of the girls has been
shot in the gut. She’s brought to the Doc, who is forced to operate on the
filthy kitchen table. The tremendously bad acting, the clumsiness of the
direction, and the wince-poor editing make it a scene worthy of the Three
Stooges.
Pin-Down
Girl is
the second feature, made three years earlier by the same producer (Weiss) and
director (Robert C. Dertano). The movie is also known as Racket Girls,
and The Blonde Pick-Up, which is what is seen in the opening credits. This
one stars real-life lady wrestler Peaches Page as “herself.†Peaches gets
involved in a ladies’ wrestling “club†that is a front for a gang that practices
racketeering, prostitution, and bookmaking. Timothy Farrell appears again as
Scalli, the gangster who manages the club. One might say it’s more of a crime
tale, although it is sprinkled throughout with sequences of the
leotard-and-tights-wearing women wrestling in the gym for those in the audience
who are into that stuff.
While
Girl Gang is unintentionally bad and funny, Pin-Down Girl is just
unintentionally bad. At 55-minutes, though, perhaps it’s worth it for anthropological
study.
Kino
Lorber continues its fabulous job in the presentation of the Forbidden Fruit
series. Girl Gang looks pristine in its digital restoration. It comes
with an audio commentary by the always-interesting film historian Alexandra
Heller-Nicholas, plus the theatrical trailer.
Pin-Down
Girl is
a bit choppy in places (missing frames of splices) and shows more damage to the
source material. It comes with an audio commentary by Eric Schaefer, author of the
book Bold! Daring! Shocking! True!: A History of Exploitation Films and
one of the curators of the Forbidden Fruit series. The theatrical trailer is
included.
For
fans of midnight-movie sensationalism and nuttiness… Girl Gang/Pin-Down Girl
is for you!
Some of the
best literary achievements and their respective motion picture counterparts had
their genesis in real-life. Robert Bloch made the grave-robber and necrophiliac
Ed Gein into the motel manager Norman Bates in Psycho (1960); William
Peter Blatty took the ostensibly possessed boy in Cottage City, MD and gave him
the identity of Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist (1973); and Martin Sheen
and Sissy Spacek breathed celluloid life into Kit and Holly respectively in Badlands
(1973), based upon Waste Land: The Savage Odyssey of Charles Starkweather
and Caril Ann Fugate. Smooth Talk, Joyce Chopra’s brilliant 1985
film adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates’s equally excellent 1966 short story
“Where Have You Been, Where Are You Going?", is no exception. While it may
seem odd to begin this review of what is on the surface, and for all intents
and purposes, a story of a teen-age girl’s sexual awakening, with an overview
of horror films, it must be said that Mrs. Oates based her tale loosely
on the exploits of Charles Howard Schmid, Jr., aka “The Pied Piper of Tucson,â€
a loner and petty thief who seduced young high school girls and was responsible
for murdering at least three of them between 1964 and 1965.
While the
denouement is nowhere near as dark as its real-life roots, Smooth Talk,
the winner of the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 1986, is a deceptive
film in that it is marketed in what appears to be a coming-of-age film, but it
is not in the traditional sense. At 91 minutes, Smooth Talk is a nearly
perfect film, unlike any other film I have ever seen. Its independent status
and minimal theatrical run have precluded it from deservedly finding a much
wider audience, even today, though it should be required viewing as both an
example of fine independent filmmaking and as a cautionary tale for overly-trusting
young women, especially in the modern age of social media and the #MeToo
movement.
Following
backstory and exposition that was only alluded to in Mrs. Oates’s story, Smooth
Talk, released on Friday, February 28, 1986 at the long-gone 68th
Street Playhouse (I miss that theater!!) in New York with a PBS showing as part
of American Playhouse nearly a year later, is a remarkably faithful film
adaptation that follows the story nearly to the letter. The film gives us
Connie Wyatt, a typical fifteen-year-old girl in a terrible hurry to grow up
and experience life. She lives in the world of the relative but would prefer to
live in the world of the absolute: one bereft of a nagging mother (Mary Kay
Place), an insouciant father (Levon Helm), and her older sister June (Elizabeth
Berridge) who castigates her for transgressions. She envisions one instead full
of sweet and beautiful boys to woo and sing to her. Her summertime vacation
household is one of boredom and antagonism, restlessness, and constant
comparison to other kids. She is a stranger at the dinner table, marginalized
and spoken of in the third person as though she were absent. Her character
changes and comes to life, however, during frequent multiple-hour sojourns to
the beach and the shopping mall (Santa Rosa Plaza and Coddingtown Mall) with
younger friends Laura (Margaret Welsh) and Jill (Sarah Inglis) in tow to the
tunes of James Taylor or Franke & The Knockouts on her boom box. In the
mall bathroom, the homely triumvirate don mascara and lipstick and emerge looking
much older, dressing to impress. Connie metamorphizes from a gawky girl into a
temptress. They yearn after a group of attractive young men with “nice bunsâ€
and poke fun at nerds and generally act older than they really are. Their first
encounter with more than they bargained for is with two muscled-up bad dudes
who lecherously offer them booze and drugs, with the presumption of sexual
interludes to follow. They nervously rush away from the men’s clutches; on
their way home, they stop at an outdoor hamburger restaurant bustling with
older kids. An older man in a shiny golden convertible pulls into the lot, and
his presence goes unnoticed by Connie, but not by the audience. In the days to
follow, Connie and Laura score dates with boys their own age, although Connie’s
catch wants more than she is willing to give when he takes her to a deserted
parking lot – never a good sign – but she manages to extricate herself from his
lust and gets a verbal admonishment from her mother and older sister the
following morning for potentially “getting into troubleâ€.
When
Connie’s family goes to visit relatives, she decides to exercise some rebellion,
opting to remain home instead. She turns on several radios throughout the house
to the same station to hear music anywhere she goes. It is at this point where
the film begins to follow Mrs. Oates’s story almost completely, as the film
takes a 180-degree turn into uncharted territory with the arrival of the
mysterious man in the convertible. He introduces himself as Arnold Friend, and
professes his desire to be Connie’s friend, which is repugnant in and of itself
as he is most definitely not 15 years-old, but much older, at least
twice that age. Bemused, Connie is escorted to his car, a 1960s-something
Pontiac LeMans GTO, which has his name printed in cursive writing on the
driver’s door, and his license plate bears the name AFRIEND. Next to his name
are printed the numbers 33, 19, and 17, the summation of which is synonymous
with a particular sexual act, though its significance is completely lost on
Connie (it could also refer to the ages of the three females killed by the
real-life Pied Piper of Tucson). His last bit of the tour is showing Connie the
left rear fender, smashed in by a “crazy woman driverâ€, as he points out.
What begins
at this point is a slow and deliberate seduction of Connie, like the serpent
tempting Eve into eating the shiny apple from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good
and Evil, except here the serpent is using a shiny convertible for enticement
(note the apple grove in the backyard). Initially flirty, Connie’s demeanor
changes when Arnold behaves as though they already know each other, and he
mentions facts about her family and friends that only someone intimately
familiar with her would know. Arnold’s intentions as a sexual predator are
nefarious and despicable. He almost talks to her in code, and everything points
to a double meaning. Removing the “r†from his name yields “an old fiendâ€;
Santa Rosa becomes Satan Rosa; and his arched eyebrows are devilish.
When Arnold
tells Connie that they are meant to be together, Connie says, “You’re crazy, no
one talks like that.†And she is right – but she does not trust her instincts
enough and goes along with him in an effort to rid him from her family’s home
at 2074 Pleasant Hill Road (in Sebastopol, CA, though the film is set in
Petaluma where George Lucas shot his own adolescent masterpiece American
Graffiti in the summer of 1972). It costs her her innocence in the film,
and her life in the short story.
The film is
most notable for being the breakout performance of Laura Dern, who was
seventeen when filming commenced in September 1984, a full year prior to playing
the virginal Sandy in David Lynch’s controversial Blue Velvet (1986).
Ms. Dern should have received an Oscar nomination for this role as her performance
is a revelation. She also was growing up and her sense of being “unaware†is
what drives her natural reactions. Connie is almost a slightly older and less
wild version of Amy Sims, the out-of-control teenager Ms. Dern portrayed in the
1980 episode of Insight called “Who Loves Amy Tonight?â€
Martin
Rosen, the director of Watership Down (1978), The Plague Dogs (1982)
and the little-seen Stacking (1987) with Megan Follows, produced the
film.
The
actor Ray Milland always presented himself on screen with a serious intensity.
His Oscar-winning turn as an alcoholic in The Lost Weekend (1945)
catapulted him into the upper ranks of Hollywood stardom in those years. He
didn’t always appear in A-list pictures, though. Film noir and thrillers
like The Big Clock and So Evil My Love (both 1948) featured
Milland in what might be perceived as moonlighting roles, but he is nonetheless
effective.
Such
is the case with Alias Nick Beal, directed by frequent Milland
collaborator, John Farrow. This is not a film noir, per se, but rather a
thriller-cum-supernatural tale that borrows heavily from the Faust myth.
And while Milland is the fire that energizes Nick Beal, it is third-billing
Thomas Mitchell who is the protagonist of the story.
Mitchell
is Joseph Foster, a district attorney who aspires to run for governor. He’s an
honest and “good†man with a loving wife, Martha (Geraldine Wall). Foster has
influential friends, including Reverend Garfield (George Macready), and he has
ties to a youth center that caters to wayward boys. Enter Nick Beal (Milland),
who offers Foster “help†to attain his goals. The only hitch is that Foster
must, essentially, sell his soul to Beal. To sweeten the pot, so to speak, Beal
brings in lovely but troubled Donna (Audrey Totter) to turn Foster’s head from
what is right and lead him down the same dark path that she is on.
It’s
a classic Good vs. Evil story—one we’ve seen a dozen times—but its retelling
here in something of a film noir style is refreshing. Farrow directs the
picture with flair and grace, evoking a moody, sinister atmosphere with many
set pieces blanketed in fog and darkness. It’s almost a horror film, by the
looks of it. And, while Mitchell is believable and sympathetic in his plight
against damnation, it is indeed Milland who ensures that Alias Nick Beal works.
Milland is truly creepy as the Devil (and it’s obvious early on that he is the
“alias†of the title). Totter is also winning in her role as a tramp who gets
caught up in Beal’s plot to win Foster’s soul, although the Production Code
likely prevented the filmmakers from blatantly depicting what she’s really out
to do to Foster!
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray release could have used some better cleaning of the source
material, but it looks good enough in its glorious black and white. Lionel
Lindon’s cinematography is suitably gothic, especially in the exterior night
scenes. The movie comes with an audio commentary by the informed and celebrated
film noir historian Eddie Muller, plus the theatrical trailer for this
and other Kino Lorber releases.
Alias
Nick Beal is
an entertaining diversion for fans of crime pictures, dark fantasies, Ray
Milland, and 1940s Hollywood B-movies in which the creators made lemonade from
lemons.
This
film noir pot boiler, released in 1948 and directed by George Sherman,
borders the fine line between being truly awful and stunningly good. Luckily
for us, it’s the latter. Larceny surprised this reviewer with its
tale—albeit a melodramatic one—of a quartet of con men who make their livings by
grifting wealthy people out of investments, phony real estate scams, or
whatever. Kind of like what’s happening today with e-mail phishing and
robocalls, right?
The
picture stars John Payne as Rick Maxon, one of the con men who might be having
second thoughts about the company he keeps and the people who become his
victims—especially if they’re beautiful women who easily fall for his charm and
good looks. Payne was a handsome and low-key actor who worked constantly from
the late 1930s through the 1950s, and then sporadically in the 60s (his final
appearance being a Columbo television episode in the 70s). Payne played
mostly in crime movies and was a second-string Robert Mitchum type who was
reliable and got the job done—although he didn’t exactly light up the screen.
The
firecracker in Larceny, however,is a young Shelley Winters, who
plays the femme fatale. When she’s on, the film really comes alive.
Maxon
works for sleazy Silky Randall (film noir stalwart Dan Duryea). They
have their eyes set on wealthy and gorgeous Deborah Clark (Joan Caulfield), who
lost her husband in the war. Maxon pretends to be an army buddy of her late
husband, and his intent is to get Deb to invest in a war memorial—when, in
fact, Silky and his team will pocket the money and run. Silky’s wild
girlfriend, Tory (Winters), has the hots for Maxon, though, and the two of them
have been carrying on behind the back of the very jealous Silky. Big trouble
brews when Maxon falls for his prey, and Deb reciprocates… and then Tory gets
wind of the budding romance.
Thus,
there are romantic shenanigans, a clever crime plot, and truly shady characters
that drive this little low budget gem. When the protagonist of a movie is the
bad guy, you know you’ve got yourself a real film noir! Sure, there are
some eye-rolling moments and some acting that is at times laughable, but that’s
all part of the fun. Larceny is indeed astonishingly entertaining. Look
for wonderful character actor Percy Helton as a hotel operator, and striking
Dorothy Hart as yet another female who is willing to commit a crime for ladies’
man Maxon.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration looks good enough. It comes with an audio
commentary by the knowledgeable film historian Eddy Von Mueller, plus the
trailer for this and other Kino Lorber releases.
Larceny
is
recommended for fans of film noir, Shelley Winters, and Hollywood cinema
of the 1940s.
In
the case of The Web, the title is categorized as film noir for
being a crime picture shot in black and white by DP Irving Glassberg with high
contrasting light and shadow, a tale that features cynical and unreliable
characters, a twisty plot, and some double-crosses. That’s about it,
really—there is no femme fatale (we think that one character is going to
serve that role, but ultimately that isn’t the case), and there is a tangible
grittiness to other, classic films noir that is missing here.
Nevertheless, The Web is enjoyable, if somewhat predictable.
While
the lovely Ella Raines receives top billing as Noel, the personal assistant to
wealthy industrialist Andrew Colby (Vincent Price), it is Edmond O’Brien, as
Bob Regan, who is the protagonist of the story. Regan is an attorney—something
of an ambulance chaser, it seems—who is temporarily hired by Colby to serve as
a bodyguard as protection against a former employee, Leopold Kroner (Fritz
Leiber). Kroner has just been released from prison, blames Colby for framing
him, and allegedly seeks revenge. On the first night on the job, Regan is
forced to shoot Kroner in Colby’s office during a struggle. Even though the
police deem the incident as self-defense, Lieutenant Damico (William Bendix) is
suspicious and wants to pin a murder rap on Regan. While Regan sweats it out,
he becomes romantically infatuated with Noel while simultaneously doing his own
investigation into Colby and the man’s history with Kroner.
Yes,
a “web†of conspiracy is revealed, and it turns out to be not so tangled. We
can foresee the outcome, really, from the first act of the picture. It’s no
spoiler to say that a viewer would have to be an idiot not to realize that
Colby is the heavy (he’s Vincent Price—duh!). That said, the film moves along
at such a brisk pace and features an enthusiastic, plucky performance from
O’Brien as the cocky lawyer-cum-bodyguard/detective. Raines, who made several film
noir titles, seems to have been molded by Hollywood to be a second string
Lauren Bacall-type; she does possess silver screen presence and a charisma that
plays well off of O’Brien’s antics. One can’t help but be entertained.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration looks and sounds superb. There is an accompanying
and informative audio commentary by film scholar, Professor Jason A. Ney. The
theatrical trailer is included along with other Kino Lorber trailers.
While
it’s not going to win any awards (it didn’t), The Web is indicative of
the era in which it was released. For fans of film noir, Edmond O’Brien
and Vincent Price, and Hollywood B-movies.
“GOIN’
TO TOWN†(1935;
Directed by Alexander Hall)
“KLONDIKE
ANNIE†(1936;
Directed by Raoul Walsh)
“GO
WEST, YOUNG MAN†(1936;
Directed by Henry Hathaway)
“EVERY
DAY’S A HOLIDAY†(1937;
Directed by A. Edward Sutherland)
“MY
LITTLE CHICKADEE†(1940;
Directed by Edward F. Cline)
(Kino
Lorber)
“GOODNESS
HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT—THE MAE WEST FILMS, PART TWOâ€
By
Raymond Benson
This
is the continuation of reviews of the classic 1930s (and 1940) films of Mae
West, which began here.
Kino
Lorber has just released in gorgeously restored, high-definition presentations
every Mae West film made between 1932-1940—the Paramount years, plus one with
Universal. This review will cover the last five of nine titles.
What
is not commonly appreciated among Hollywood enthusiasts is that Mae West held a
unique position in the history of cinema. Until the modern era, she had the
extraordinary fortune—for her time—of being a leading actress who wrote her
own screenplays. Six of the nine pictures reviewed here and in Part One were
written by West, one was co-written, and all but the first was based on or
adapted from West’s plays or stories. It wasn’t until the likes of Tina Fey,
Kristen Wiig, Angelina Jolie, and a finite number of other actresses appeared
on the scene to write original scripts for themselves that Hollywood allotted
that kind of opportunity to a female performer. West was doing it in the 1930s,
and this was unprecedented. Her talent and wit deserve a renewed appreciation
today.
Goin’
to Town (1935)
takes place at the turn of the century when automobiles are appearing but there
are still horses and buggies. It’s a globe-hopping affair that begins in what
appears to be the Wild West as Cleo Borden (West) is a cattle rancher who
juggles men on the way to fulfill her desire to refine her manners and join
high society. Although her designs are really aimed at British engineer Edward
Carrington (Paul Cavanaugh), she marries
Fletcher Colton (Monroe Owsley) for convenience, but he’s an obsessive gambler.
In Buenos Aires, Cleo faces off with rival Grace Brittony (Marjorie Gateson).
As a recurring theme to this and other West vehicles, the actress sings “He’s a
Bad, Bad Man, but He’s Good Enough for Meâ€! Goin’ to Town is
entertaining enough—it’s better than the previous Belle of the Nineties,
but the picture lacks interesting co-stars for West. The Blu-ray comes with an
audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.
Klondike
Annie (1936)
is overseen by solid filmmaker Raoul Walsh, and it shows. It is perhaps the
best of West’s post-Code pictures, despite its embarrassingly offensive take on
Asian characters, which was standard operating procedure in Hollywood for the
time. It’s the 1890s again (why do so many of West’s films take place in that
decade?). Rose Carlton (West) is a “kept woman†in San Francisco’s Chinatown by
cruel club owner Chan Lo (Harold Huber, not an Asian actor). Rose ends up
killing Lo and escapes on a ship to Alaska, the captain of which is Bull Brackett
(the fabulous Victor McLaglen). Rose disguises herself and impersonates the
deceased Sister Annie Alden, a missionary who was on her way to Nome to head up
the only establishment of worship in an otherwise rough Gold Rush town. Bull
falls hard for “Annie,†and she likes him, too, but she also has eyes for
Mountie-like inspector Jack Forrest (Phillip Reed), who is looking for Rose
because she’s now wanted for murder. Klondike Annie went through major
Hays Office interference and in fact two major scenes were deleted from the
film—the murder of Lo (we now only hear about what happened in conversation
later), and the sequence in which Rose dons Annie’s clothing and dresses the
former sister in the garb of a streetwalker (the censors seriously objected to
this on puritanical grounds!). Nevertheless, Klondike is lively, rather
suspenseful, and features the most exotic of settings for a Mae West movie. The
disk comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra
Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, plus the theatrical trailer.
Go
West, Young Man (also
1936) was helmed by accomplished director Henry Hathaway, and it fares well for
West and her filmography. West is controversial movie star Mavis Arden, who has
a penchant to get in trouble. Thus, her studio has assigned press agent Morgan
(Warren William, who was known as the “king of pre-Code,†but he was apparently
still working post-Code) to keep an eye on Mavis and stop her from dalliances
with men. On the way to a public appearance, their car breaks down in a hick
town where Mavis and Morgan must stay at a boarding house run by a prudish
woman (Alice Brady) and her more open-minded aunt (Elizabeth Patterson). The
problem is that hunky Bud Norton (Randolph Scott) runs the gas station next
door to the boarding house! It’s another enjoyable West romp that is more of a
screwball comedy than any of her other pictures. The disk comes with an audio
commentary by author/film historian Lee Gambin, plus the theatrical trailer.
Every
Day’s a Holiday (1937)
was the last picture West made for Paramount, after which her contract was
cancelled. She, along with many other actresses such as Katharine Hepburn,
Marlene Dietrich, and even Bette Davis, were deemed at the time by the
Hollywood press as “box office poison†(which was nonsense, of course). It’s
too bad, for Holiday is one of the funnier titles in the West canon,
mainly due to character actor co-stars Charles Butterworth (as Graves, a butler
who is sweet on West’s character, Peaches O’Day), Charles Winninger (as Van
Doon, an outrageous millionaire who also has the hots for Peaches), and
bumbling Walter Catlett (as Nifty, Peaches’ manager). Peaches, who has a habit
of “selling†the Brooklyn Bridge to numbskulls, has her eyes on police
captain McCarey (Edmund Lowe), whose rival is the police chief Quade (Lloyd
Nolan). Peaches, wanted by the law, “disguises†herself by donning a black
wig—and of course no one recognizes her as Peaches anymore (!). Quade, once pursuing
Peaches to arrest her, is now after “Fifi†to woo her. Fun stuff all around. Look
for Louis Armstrong’s cameo leading a marching band and performing a song. The
disk comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the
theatrical trailer.
Many movies are a
reflection of their time: Dr. Strangelove was a biting 1960s anti-nuclear
war satire. Taxi Driver was a 1970s commentary on urban loneliness. Now
as America grapples with rising, politically inspired unrest, it’s more than a
bit sad that the movie for OUR time may well be The Forever Purge.
This half a billion-dollar
franchise started out in 2013 as a humble $3M action/thriller starring Ethan Hawke.Expectations were modest at best… Instead,
the film’s main theme – allowing society to “let off steam†with one night
where all crime is allowed - touched a nerve, grossing almost $90M and
installments (and profits) soon followed.
This latest sequel,
directed by Everardo Gout and written by series creator, James DeMonaco,
cannily picks up on today’s social and political vibes - a humble Mexican
couple, Juan and Adela, sneak into the U.S. in search of a better life, ready
to work hard to achieve that iconic American dream. Juan winds up toiling as a ranch hand for a
wealthy Texas family whose mercurial son (Josh Lucas) makes it clear he doesn’t
want Mexicans around.On Purge Night, as
the owners hunker down in luxury to ride the things out; the ranch hands and their
families take refuge in a barricaded warehouse.All emerge the next morning to discover the terrifying truth – the Purge
genie ain’t going back in the bottle.Paramilitary groups have decided to rid America of all “othersâ€, with NO
time limit.From coast to coast,
violence explodes. In a clever reverse, Mexico and Canada now offer U.S.
citizens asylum, so the wealthy ranch owners must rely on their Mexican workers
to guide them to safety.
Tenoch Huerta turns in a
solid performance as Juan, the Mexican immigrant gamely trying to fit in. Ana
de la Reguera (so good in Netflix’s Army of the Dead) really shines as
Adela, whose quiet demeanor masks a fearsome warrior.Veteran character actor Will Patton has a
brief, but impactful role as the Texas family patriarch, surprised at how his
country has changed. In one telling scene, a hulking skinhead being transported
to jail through the Purge Night mayhem, happily rattles off a multitude of gun
types based on the bullet sounds coming from the surrounding streets.
The film is a wild ride
through an amped up, paranoid, gun-filled American West and while entertaining
and well done (one expects no less from a movie that lists Jason Blum as a
producer) the resemblance to current events is just too stark to ignore.
The Forever Purge opens Friday, July 2nd, from
Universal Pictures.
