Columnists
Entries from September 2021
By Mark Cerulli
Thanks
to the Ian Fleming Foundation (IFF,) this scribe was invited to the opening
night party for the massive Bond in Motion exhibit at LA’s world-famous
Petersen Automotive Museum, co-sponsored by EON Productions. You’ve seen the vehicles on screen, but
nothing compares to getting up close and personal with over 34 production-used
vehicles from the 1960s right up to No Time To Die. It’s a collection representing
almost 30 years of sleuthing by the IFF’s co-founder Doug Redenius and other IFF members.
L007K
UP –
Bond’s hang-glider from Moonraker, the Vulcan Bomber model from Thunderball,
an Osato chopper model from You Only Live Twice and a full-size Cessna
from Licence to Kill.
L007K
OUTSIDE
– Visitors are greeted by the From Russia With Love chase copter.
L007K
OVER THERE
– The V8 Volante from The Living Daylights, the (huge) sub from For
Your Eyes Only, an Octopussy Tuk-Tuk, the AMC Hornet from The
Man With The Golden Gun and a badly damaged Aston Martin DBS used in a
record-breaking stunt from Casino Royale.
LOO7K
AROUND
– At the Jaguar XKR from Die Another Day, a MINT 1964 Aston Martin DB5
(seen in five Bond films), the 1971 Mach 1 from Diamonds Are Forever, Blofeld’s
escape sub from Diamonds, the Glastron from Live & Let Die’s
iconic boat jump and so many more – all lovingly restored by the IFF.
The
evening started with a rooftop cocktail party where the NEFT vodka flowed like
Tracy’s dress as invited guests mingled and toasted the night’s VIPs – five,
count ‘em, FIVE Bond Girls – Maud Adams (The Man With the Golden Gun,
Octopussy), Luciana Paluzzi (Thunderball), Gloria Hendry (Live & Let Die), Lynn-Holly Johnson
(For Your Eyes Only) and Mary Stavin
(Octopussy, A View To A Kill). They all seemed delighted to see each other and were up for a big night
out.
Doug
and fellow IFF co-founder Michael VanBlaricum gave a discussion on their
acquisition of screen-used vehicles, many found in total disrepair across the
globe. Then they shared the spotlight
with the Bond actresses for some Q&As. Next, the 00 VIPS cut the red ribbon,
officially opening the exhibit and crowds swarmed the cars – all artfully
arranged by the Petersen staff in unique dioramas. Even the event’s official car transport – DHL
– got into the spirit by positioning their 007-branded yellow vans around the
Museum. Bond truly is back – and right
now, he’s at the Peterson Auto Museum in LA.
Want
to support the IFF’s Bond restorations? You can donate to them at: www.ianflemingfoundation.org
(Special
thanks to Stockholm own Double-0, Anders Fredjh.)
For information about the Bond in Motion exhibition, click here.
BY TODD GARBARINI
Although
Yves Boisset’s 1972 French political thriller The French Conspiracy
boasts an international cast of heavyweight actors, the film moves at a snail’s
pace and is chock full of schematic dialog and little in the way of the suspense
promised in the ads. The film opened on Wednesday, November 14, 1973 at the
long-gone 68th Street Playhouse and The Eastside Cinema, both in
Manhattan, and on Tuesday, December 25, 1973 at the ABC Century City Theatre 2
in Los Angeles. My guess is that this film, originally titled L’Attentat
which translates to The Assassination in English, was so named in the
hopes of capitalizing on the success of Constantin Costa-Gavras’s Z
(1969 and winner of the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film and also nominated
for Best Picture) and William Friedkin’s highly lauded The French Connection
(1971 and winner of the Oscar for Best Picture). In contrast, both of those
films were riveting and shot in a documentary style. The French Conspiracy
has so many characters and so much exposition that one can only wonder what
film Judith Crist saw when she proclaimed it as “one of the best post ‘Z’
political thrillers to come our way†in her New York Magazine review of the
film. The convoluted plot, penned by screenwriter Jorge Semprún of Z and
L’Aveu/The Confession (1970, also directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras)
fame, is based upon the true-life events of the October 29, 1965
“disappearance†of Moroccan left-wing politician Mehdi Ben Barka who, as
finally explained in a 2018 book, was kidnapped by Israeli intelligence
operatives and killed by Moroccan agents and French police. Pretty awful!
In
the film, Sadiel (Gian Maria Volontè of A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and For
a Few Dollars More (1965) fame) is a Geneva-exiled Organisation Armée
Secrète (OAS) terrorist originally from Algeria who is returning to France.
This fact grabs the attention of the French Secret Service, the Central
Intelligence Agency, and a dictator named Kassar (Michel Piccoli from Jean-Luc Godard’s
Le mépris/Contempt (1963) who also wants Saidel dead. François Darien
(Jean-Louis Trintignant from the aforementioned Z and Bernardo
Bertolucci’s The Conformist (1970) is a French journalist, allegedly an
informer during the Algerian War, who has been blackmailed by these two
organizations into luring Saidel back to Paris under the guise of being given
the chance to speak openly on television. The actual goal concerns Saidel being
assassinated, a plan that Darien learns of early on. He tries to avoid the
assassins and blow the whistle publicly. Another journalist, Michael Howard
(Roy Schieder of The French Connection), learns of the double-cross, too,
but is warned by the CIA not to interfere – though he may even be a member
of the CIA. In films like this, no one is to be trusted. The CIA does
their best to tie up any loose ends by the film’s conclusion but by that point,
we are just grateful that the film has finally come to an end.
The
French Conspiracy is
not a terrible film, it’s just not a particularly good film either, which is a
shame considering the presence of Jean Seberg (Jean-Luc Godard’s À Bout de
Souffle/Breathless, 1960), Bruno Cremer (William Friedkin’s Sorcerer,
1977), and Phillipe Noiret (Giuseppe Tornatore’s Cinema Paradiso, 1988),
in addition to the main cast who have all appeared in films that I have loved
over the past few decades. Composer Ennio Morricone, who was also scoring Dario
Argento’s first three films at this time, does what he can to lift the action,
however there isn’t much of it to be lifted. Ninety-four minutes into it there
is a foot chase that fizzles out, which is a shame as by this point the
audience is pleading for the men to do anything except sit, stand, walk around,
and talk.
The
film is now available on Blu-ray courtesy of Code Red and released by Kino
Lorber and the transfers are beautiful. I say transfers, plural, as there are
two separate versions of the film on the dual-layered Blu-ray. There is an
English dubbed cut that runs 98 minutes in length and a longer French-spoken
with English subtitles version that runs 123 minutes. The film is a lot to take
in, especially with the additional 25 minutes. The 123-minute cut with
subtitles is the version that played here in the States theatrically, so
perhaps the 98-minute cut played in Great Britain, or on television? The longer
cut features Roy Schieder in a total of four scenes whereas the shorter version
features him in only two.
Unfortunately,
there are no extras on the disc, except for a trailers section consisting of The
Hunter Will Get You (1976), And Hope to Die (1972), Max and the
Junkmen (1971), Last Embrace (1978), Caravan to Vaccares
(1974), The Eiger Sanction (1975), The Tamarind Seed (1974), OSS
117: Mission for a Killer (1965), The Violent Professionals (1973)
and Puppet on a Chain (1970). I would have loved a film historian’s
commentary to explain the movie’s conception and behind-the-scenes tidbits, but
perhaps there just wasn’t enough time to include it. If you’re somehow a fan of
this film, this Blu-ray is a definite purchase.
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“THE
WORLDS OF DARKNESS AND LIGHTâ€
By
Raymond Benson
The
year 1951 was an exceptional one for movies, among them Best Picture Oscar
winner An American in Paris; the classic drama A Streetcar Named
Desire; two of the best science fiction pictures ever made—The Day the
Earth Stood Still and The Thing from Another World; the Bogart and
Hepburn adventure, The African Queen; the historical epic Quo Vadis;
plus Decision Before Dawn, Death of a Salesman, Detective
Story… and that’s counting only Hollywood titles.
And
then there is A Place in the Sun, George Stevens’ adaptation of Theodore
Dreiser’s 1925 novel, An American Tragedy. The film managed to win the
Oscars for Best Director (Stevens), Screenplay, Black and White Cinematography
(William C. Mellor), Black and White Costume Design (Edith Head), Film Editing,
and Scoring (Franz Waxman). Montgomery Clift and Shelley Winters were both
nominated for Actor and Actress, respectively, and the production was nominated
for Best Picture.
Interestingly,
A Place in the Sun was a remake of the 1931 picture An American
Tragedy, which was directed by Josef von Sternberg. Since this earlier
adaptation received mixed reactions from audiences and critics alike, the
original novel was ripe to be re-envisioned and remade for the post-war crowd.
Paramount
Presents has issued a new digital restoration on Blu-ray that emphasizes the
importance and acclaim A Place in the Sun received at the time. It is
still a beloved motion picture today, albeit being a little creaky around the
edges. Yes, the film might be considered “dated†in the year 2021 in terms of
style and presentation, seventy years after its release, but what it has to say
is still relevant to our contemporary world.
George
Eastman (Clift) is from the black sheep side of the wealthy, prosperous Eastman
family in an unnamed town. He has hitchhiked from Chicago, where his widowed
mother runs a low-rent religious charity outfit. We never learn what exactly
caused the estrangement of George’s father from rich industrialist Charles
Eastman (Herbert Heyes). George is considered by the Eastmans to be from the
“wrong side of the tracks.†In other words, he’s not in the same social class.
Nevertheless, patriarch Eastman gives George a job in his textile mill, first
in the menial labor area. Here, George meets plain-Jane Alice (Winters,
playing, at that time, against the type established by her previous work as a
sexpot). They begin to date, despite company rules against employees doing so.
One thing leads to another, and Alice becomes pregnant. In the meantime, George
has become smitten with Angela Vickers (Elizabeth Taylor, who was only 17 when
she made the picture!). The Vickers are the other wealthy family in town, and
there are often high society pages written about both families. After meeting
at an Eastman party, George and Angela begin to date, leaving poor Alice high
and dry. George is not only in love with the beautiful and lively Angela, but
he sees this as an opportunity to lift himself out of the lower class in which
he has lived and into the more prosperous “place in the sun†enjoyed by the
white, privileged elite in America. Alice will not stand for George abandoning
her, so she gives him the “marry me or else†ultimatum. What happens next is
indeed an “American tragedy,†and to reveal all would be a spoiler.
This
is not a feel good movie. Whether we’re supposed to feel sorry for George is
beside the point of the picture, though. In 1951, audiences perhaps did empathize
with him for the predicament in which he finds himself in the last act. Today? Likely
not so much. He certainly makes some very bad decisions which bring about his
downfall. Is he a victim of his own classlessness, or is he just a cad?
Therein
lies the message of the movie, which is indeed an exploration of the dichotomy
between America’s working class and the wealthy elite. When bad things happen
to the poor, it can be devastating, whereas the rich can usually buy their way
out of trouble. Nothing has changed.
Stevens’
direction is masterful. If the performances on display are a result of the
director, then Stevens deserved his Oscar. Clift was still a relative newcomer
on the scene at the time and displays the smoldering angst of “the Methodâ€
acting style that was just becoming a thing on screen. It is said numerous
times throughout the various supplemental material on the Blu-ray disk that A
Place in the Sun was Elizabeth Taylor’s first “real role†in which she
could exhibit her chops after a career as a child actor. She is marvelous as
Angela, and her screen charisma is astonishingly striking. Winters, in the role
of dowdy Alice, also makes a big impression; however, one might argue that her
part is not a lead, but rather a supporting one.
Aside
from the acting, the direction is evident in the pacing and moods established
by the picture. Takes are long and meticulous, the crossfades are protracted
and bordering laborious, and the music underscore is often melodramatically
over the top. And yet, all these rather dated sensibilities work in the film’s
favor. A Place in the Sun is an emotionally devastating picture, and its
power is due to Stevens.
William
Mellor’s cinematography is extremely important to the representation of the
movie’s themes. All the scenes in Angela’s world are brightly lit, sunshiny,
full of life and joy. By contrast, most of the sequences in Alice’s world are
dark—very dark—full of shadow and drabness. Two classes. Light and dark.
Life and death.
The
Blu-ray transfer from a 4K remaster looks marvelous. It comes with an
informative audio commentary by George Stevens Jr. and associate producer Ivan
Moffat. The enjoyable supplements (ported over from previous home video
releases) are a “Filmmaker Focus†on George
Stevens from film critic and historian Leonard Maltin; a good featurette on
Stevens’ making of the film; and a very welcome collection of “Filmmakers Who
Knew Him†AFI interviews about Stevens from the likes of Frank Capra, Warren
Beatty, Fred Zinnemann, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Alan J. Pakula, Robert Wise, and
others. Theatrical trailers round out the package.
A Place in the Sun has earned its place in cinematic history.
Highly recommended for a look back at the barometer of morality that existed in
America in the early 1950s.
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“SPIES
WITH SCRUPLESâ€
By
Raymond Benson
In
comparing Masquerade (1965) with a recent review of Arabesque (1966)
here at Cinema Retro, this time we have yet another mid-1960s “comedy-spy
thriller,†a genre that was crowding the cinemas in those days because of the
success of Double-O-You-Know-Who.
In
contrast to Arabesque, this one is a British production, directed
by the prolific and often brilliant Basil Dearden, and it utilizes London
locations as well as spots in Spain. And yet, despite the thoroughly British
DNA running through 95% of the movie, it stars American Cliff Robertson as the
hero, David Fraser, a sort of CIA type who seems to approach all the danger
around him with misplaced naivete and amused detachment.
The
script marks the first appearance of the great William Goldman in a screen
credit (co-writing with Michael Relph). It’s based on Vincent Canning’s novel, Castle
Minerva. Apparently, it was Robertson who had enlisted Goldman’s services,
as the dialogue needed some “Americanizing.†That said, the script is
serviceable and certainly makes more sense than what we saw in Arabesque.
Britain
wants oil drilling rights in a fictional Middle Eastern country, but the
country isn’t playing ball. Colonel Drexel (Jack Hawkins) is engaged by Sir
Robert (John Le Mesurier) to fix the problem. Drexel hires an old war buddy, Frazer,
to kidnap the teenage son of the country’s prince. This is supposed to force the
resumption of talks and ultimate agreement between the two countries. Why this
is considered sound diplomacy is anyone’s guess, but that’s the mission. Frazer
goes along with the plan out of loyalty to his friend; however, at one point he
rejects performing an order because he has “scruples†(but kidnapping a prince
isn’t one of them). Frazer eventually finds that he has competition in the form
of a small gang of Europeans who also want the boy. As the tag line for the
movie in its posters and theatrical trailer shouts, “Who is Doing What to Who?â€
Indeed… the audience will be wondering that, too. (Shouldn’t that be “to Whom?â€)
In other words, the movie is filled with double-crosses, switcheroos, and
things that are not as they seem.
The
picture is lively and loaded with action sequences. The supporting cast,
especially the Europeans (namely Marisa Mell and a young Michel Piccoli), are a
hoot. The British side sports familiar character actors besides Hawkins (such
as Charles Gray and Bill Fraser).
Unfortunately,
Masquerade doesn’t quite succeed as intended mainly due to the casting
of Robertson. Like Arabesque, this needed someone with the comic
delivery of a Cary Grant, and the American Robertson is also oddly out of place
in this British-European milieu. Robertson does his best, though, and he gets
the job done—even if the whole thing is more than just implausible. (The poor
guy gets clobbered on the head several times in the movie; one would think a
concussion might have debilitated him after, say, the third time.)
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray displays that distinctive 1960s film stock look, and it’s
a good enough transfer. It comes with an audio commentary by film historians
Howard S. Berger and Chris Poggiali. The theatrical trailer, along with other Kino
Lorber trailers, are the only supplements.
Masquerade
is a
middle-of-the-road example of the 1960s cinematic “spy boom, and the Bond-Wanabe
aspects of the picture plants it firmly within the context of its era.
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