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By Mike Thomas
There
was something of a George Stevens double bill last week in Los Angeles.
On Tuesday, George Stevens, Jr. introduced his father’s film, “The
Diary of Anne Frank,†at the Skirball Institute and took part in a
panel discussion with Millie Perkins and Diane Baker conducted by LA
Weekly film critic, Ella Taylor.
The
intervening years have not dimmed the power of film, in fact, it seems
even more powerful today, despite the many films dealing with the
Holocaust in the intervening years. Perhaps because of the gripping
humanity of the source material, the film manages to convey the
horrible monstrosity of the Holocaust by humanizing it, giving the
nameless 6 millions not only names and faces but recognizable
personalities. We care because we have come to recognize these people,
for all their foibles and quirks, they are us.
Yet
another factor in the film’s success is due to the superb mastery of
his craft that George Stevens demonstrates in the film. He had helped
liberate a concentration camp during WW II and that horrific memory
infuses every frame of “Anne Frank.†The fear of discovery that was
ever-present hangs in the air throughout the film like an unspoken
terror that dare not be named. The tension Stevens created, especially
in the scenes of the burglary of the safe later, when the Nazis search
the office while the cat nearly gives them away, is cinematic mastery
of suspense worthy of Hitchcock. Throughout the film, the lighting,
composition and editing are all textbook examples of great film
directing.
I
knew of the film’s three editors and he once told me that Stevens shot
from every angle, a more common practice today than it was years ago. Unlike Michael Bay's practice, the film is never cut in an attention deficit
editing style but is confident enough in the material and in the
audience to hold for long periods of time without a cut because of the
gripping emotional drama of life and death being played out before our
eyes. It is the superb cast that makes it all work, from veterans
like Ed Wynn and Shelley WInters to novices like Millie Perkins (who
had never acted before) and Diane Baker. The final shots of the broken
skylight window with the seagulls flying in the air is one of those
indelible images that will endure for as long as movies exist and
people value works of art that illuminate the both the extreme joy and
pain of what it means to be human.
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The
other Stevens film that played that week was “Gunga Din,†which packed
‘em in at the Academy’s Samuel Goldwyn Theatre. Without a thought on
its mind other than making a rousing good film, “Gunga Din,†highlights
the other side of George Stevens, that of superb entertainer.
Inheriting the project from Howard Hawks , who had left the film over
budget issues, Stevens opened up the script to take advantage of the
location shoot at Lone Pine, in the Sierras near Mt. Whitney. The
locale has been used in many film to double for the Himalayan foothills
for many of the Hollywood films set in India, yet never was the
location used to such a great effect as in “Din.†Though the
unquestioned Kipling imperialism has not aged well, the film is such an
enjoyable romp that its less than enlightened aspects can be forgiven,
just watching Cary Grant whinny like a horse when he finds the hidden
treasure is itself, pure cinematic bliss.
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The
event, produced by the Academy’s Randy Haberkamp (who was doing double
duty producing the Monday night “Hollywood’s Greatest Year†series at
the Academy) was as usual, full of special treats, including color home
movies of Stevens riding around the set on horseback and Cary Grant,
Victor MacLaglen and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. clowning around on
location. There was also a terrific display of matte paintings and
sound effects that went into the film and the influence the film had on
the second Indiana Jones film, “Temple of Doom.â€Â It is a mark of what
a great movie year 1939 was, when a classic like “Gunga Din†doesn’t
make the nominations.
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Also
produced by Randy Haberkamp (does the man ever sleep?) was the
following week’s tribute to veteran make-up artist Dick Smith, hosted
by Oscar winning makeup artist Rick Baker. Because the Academy is
comprised of many different branches from nearly all the various crafts
that go into making a film, they do an excellent job in saluting those
artists who may not achieve the acclaim they deserve outside the
industry. Dick Smith’s name may not be known to the public at large,
but his work certainly is. Whether aging Marlon Brando in “The
Godfather,†turning Linda Blair into a head twirling, pea-soup barfing
demonic scamp, transforming Hal Holbrook into Mark Twain, (“It’s alot easier
these days,†cracked Holbrook), or having half of Barry Morse’s face
turn into a misshapen grotesque, Dick Smith’s work was pioneering and
unforgettable.
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The
evening, as Rick Baker twice described it, “was a love fest,†for as
innovative as he was, Smith was also a great mentor to those like
Baker, who have now become masters themselves in the field of make-up.
In fact, the emotional highlight of the event was when the 86 year old
Smith got up on stage and proclaimed that Baker had surpassed him and
Baker was overcome. It was that kind of night, and only the Academy
does it with such style and elegance.Â