Direct from the latest Turner Classic Movies Film Festival, here is Ben Mankiewicz interviewing Steven Spielberg, who was there to celebrate the 40th anniversary screening of "E.T.: The Extraterrestrial". Spielberg discusses the film, his early fascination with John Ford's "The Searchers", the troubles filming "Jaws", working with Joan Crawford in his directorial debut for the TV series "Night Gallery" and much more.
Kino
Lorber has been releasing the W. C. Fields catalog in high definition, upgraded
from previous releases on DVD, and two more have come to the fore—You’re
Telling Me! and Man on the Flying Trapeze, two titles that don’t
immediately come to mind when one thinks of top tier, classic Fields pictures,
but never fear—they’re hilarious and worth a look.
You’re
Telling Me!
preceded The Old Fashioned Way and the brilliant It’s a Gift (both
previously reviewed here at Cinema Retro), all three of which appeared
in 1934, while Fields (real name—William Claude Dukenfield) still had a working
contract with Paramount Pictures. Man on the Flying Trapeze was released
in 1935, a return to a “Fields comedy” after the actor took a sidetrack sojourn,
courtesy of Paramount, into more high-brow fare (David Copperfield, an
Oscar Best Picture nominee,and Mississippi, a musical starring
Bing Crosby).
In
Telling Me, Fields is Sam Bisbee, an optometrist and amateur inventor (one
of his inventions is a “nose-holder-upper,” which pulls one’s nose up to open
the nasal passages when in bed). As usual, he’s married to a shrew of a wife (Louise
Carter), who is embarrassed by the family’s social status of living “on the
wrong side of the tracks.” Their daughter, Pauline (Joan Marsh), is sweet on Bob
Murchison (Larry “Buster” Crabbe), who comes from a wealthy, upper class
family. Bob’s snobby mother (Kathleen Howard) will not allow her son to marry
Pauline, mainly because of her contempt for “low life” Sam. However, Sam by
chance meets Princess Lescaboura (Adrienne Ames) on a train. The princess is a
visiting dignitary, and she is impressed by Sam’s woeful story of his troubles.
Sam is under the mistaken impression that the princess (“Call me Marie”) was
about to commit suicide when he meets her, and she plays along to earn his
friendship. Marie can see there’s a good man there, so she takes it upon
herself to visit his town and make things right between him and his family and
the community.Click here to order from Amazon.
Man
on the Flying Trapeze has no flying trapezes, but the title possibly suggests
the precarious tightrope act that is the life of Ambrose Wolfinger (Fields).
He, too, is married to a shrew (Kathleen Howard again, something of the
“Margaret Dumont” of W. C. Fields films). Fields has a daughter, Hope (Mary
Brian), from a previous marriage, but the second Mrs. Wolfinger’s uptight
mother (Vera Lewis) and lazy brother (Grady Sutton) live with them, too. No one
in the household can stand Ambrose—in fact, they make his life hell—except for Hope,
who adores him. Ambrose loses his job as a “memory expert” because he takes a
day off to attend a wrestling match, and it’s one of many things that goes
wrong in Ambrose’s world. Luckily, Hope is on hand to steer luck his way.
There
are some classic comedic bits in both films. Telling Me has a wonderful
golfing sequence toward the end, in which Fields shares the screen with
longtime foil Tammany Young (here as a caddy). Flying Trapeze is packed
with funny bits. The opening involves two burglars (one being Tammany Young,
again, plus a young Walter Brennan!) who get drunk in Fields’ cellar and start
singing. Later, the chase of a runaway tire after getting a flat takes Fields
onto the railroad tracks provides some laughs, along with the wrestling
sequence (featuring a young Tor Johnson as a heavily bearded “Russian”
wrestler).
Throughout
it all in both films, W. C. Fields maintains a command of the material. The
camera loves him, and he obviously loves the camera. This is a period when
Fields’ popularity was at its highest, with excellent examples of his impeccable
comic timing, slow burns, drunken confusion, and outrageous dialogue.
Both
Kino Lorber disks, sold separately, are 2K masters that are indeed an improvement
over previous DVD releases. Oddly, both Blu-ray editions feature the same bonus
supplement—an episode of the old “Wayne and Shuster” TV show (Johnny Wayne and
Frank Shuster, comics of the 40s and beyond, who had some success on television
in the 50s and early 60s). The segment focuses on the life of Fields. This same
supplement also appeared on the Never Give a Sucker an Even Break Blu-ray
disk from the same label. One might have thought that Kino could have found
some different supplements to spread around the various Fields titles on
release, but that is not the case. Theatrical trailers for both films, and
other Kino products, fill out the packages.
You’re
Telling Me! and
Man on the Flying Trapeze are both worthwhile additions to your W. C.
Fields library. They are snapshots of a comic genius in his prime. Click here to order from Amazon.
British
author Edgar Wallace, aside from the London pub bearing his name, is now
largely forgotten in his home country, and is perhaps best remembered, if at
all, for his contribution to RKO’s King Kong (1933), although he sadly
died before the film was completed. During his immensely prolific career as a
journalist, author, poet, playwright, historian, film producer and director,
screenwriter and chairman of the British Lion Film Corporation, he published
around two hundred novels, almost a thousand short stories and twenty stage
plays. It was said that at one point around a quarter of all books being read
in the UK were written by Wallace. He was best known for his crime novels,
particularly ‘The Four Just Men’ series and the amateur detective J.G. Reeder,
but he also created the colonial adventurer ‘Sanders of the River’ and wrote
science fiction and comedy stories. His non-fiction often focused on his
experiences in South Africa during the Boer War or on his passion for horse
racing (the latter of which kept him mostly in debt and helped fuel his need to
keep writing).
Many
of his stories and plays were adapted by Hollywood and British filmmakers
during the 1930s and 1940s, and in the 1960s the tiny Merton Park Studios
produced a whopping forty-seven second-feature films under the title The
Edgar Wallace Mysteries. These films were so successful that The Shadows
scored a chart hit with their cover of the theme music ‘Man of Mystery’.
And
yet Edgar Wallace’s work has now mostly fallen out of print in the UK. Perhaps
it is because, as he himself once admitted, “I do not write good books, I write
bestsellers.” In Germany, however, it was a different story; paperback publisher
Goldmanns issued dozens of Wallace novels (and those of his son Bryan Edgar
Wallace) in the 1940s and 1950s under the cheap imprint Taschen-Krimi (krimi
meaning crime), and these novels were very popular in a post-war country still
coming to terms with the relationship it now had with the UK, it’s former enemy
in two world wars. Wallace’s stories, often set in a fog-bound London, were a
fantasy world of terror and crime where the good guys always prevailed.
In
1959 Danish film company Rialto tried their hand at an adaptation and produced The
Mask of the Frog, shot in German language but set in London, and made with
a comedic tone which was often found in the original novels. It was such a huge
success that it launched a series which ran for over a decade and resulted in
thirty-two films, mostly shot in Hamburg or Berlin (with second unit
photography in London) and helped launch the careers of such film stars as
Klaus Kinski, Karin Dor and Joachim Fuchsberger, as well as attracting stars
such as Christopher Lee – he spoke perfect German – who appeared in The
Devil’s Daffodil and Secret of the Red Orchid. Each film would begin
with the message “Hallo, hier spricht Edgar Wallace.” Other popular films in
the series, many of which were dubbed into English and distributed in the UK
and the USA, included The Dead Eyes of London, The Ringer and The
Hunchback of Soho. Towards the end of the cycle, Rialto joined forces with
Italian filmmakers to make Double Face, What Have You Done to
Solange? and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, generally thought of as
giallo films but released in Germany as part of the Krimi series.
Although
Rialto’s Krimi production ended in the early 1970s, the films lived on through
regular television screenings, and thus the popularity of Edgar Wallace has endured,
and German translations of his novels have remained in print ever since. And
whilst several German volumes have also been published dedicated to this series
of films, until now the main English-language writing on the Krimi phenomenon was
in the magazine Video Watchdog back in the 1990s. Nicholas G. Schlegel’s
new book German Popular Cinema and the Rialto Krimi Phenomenon: Dark Eyes of
London is therefore a very welcome and much- needed addition for anyone
interested in exploring these films in more detail. With an insightful analysis
of each of the films and their reception, alongside a history of the post-war
German film industry and where these films sit within that context, reading
this book will have you eagerly seeking out copies of all of them. Fortunately,
a great deal of the Rialto Krimis are now available on DVD and Blu-ray with
English subtitles, and occasionally with the original English dubs (sometimes
the films were shot in both languages, with different actors), although some
are still only available in German. Perhaps the films are considered to only be
of commercial interest to German-speaking audiences. It can be hoped that the
renewed interest this book will spark amongst English-speaking film fans will
encourage the rights holders to eventually make all these films available.
Although
the idea of 1960s German film adaptations of Edgar Wallace may not be
everyone’s cup of tea (something which is drunk with great regularity in the
films themselves), I would strongly encourage you to at least seek one out.
They are great fun, balancing humour with tales of outlandish criminal
masterminds (the tone often recalls episodes of The Avengers), and the
novelty of seeing people in English police uniforms talking in German about
Scotland Yard adds an additional element of charm to the whole thing. This new
book from Schlegel is an essential read, taking in the films, the industry,
their enduring legacy, and global influence. The hardback is admittedly
something of an eye-watering price, but well worth it for the serious Krimi
fan. For the curious, perhaps wait patiently for the paperback.
In these rare excerpts of a 1976 interview, Bobbie Wygant discusses John Wayne's career with the Duke himself. Wayne discusses being in on the advent of widescreen movies with the 1929 production of "The Big Trail" and also talks about the background of making his latest (and final) film "The Shootist", going into some details about how he wanted to make significant changes to the source novel. It's all rather tantalizing and we wish the entire interview was available.
Coming off their triumphant political thriller "Seven Days and May", Burt Lancaster and director John Frankenheimer went directly to France to begin filming another classic, the WWII adventure "The Train" (1964). Lancaster plays an everyday guy who is now a member of the French Resistance. The war is winding down and the Allies are closing in. Paul Scofield is the ruthless, elite German general with a fanatical obsession with "rescuing" the great works of art that had been removed from museums. He seeks to steal them for himself and has them loaded aboard a freight train in the hope to make it back to safer territory. Lancaster has been enlisted to stop him, as Scofield is stealing some of the nation's greatest art treasures. In the climax, shown here, the two men confront each other in a scene that is superbly played by Scofield, who made his feature film debut in "The Train".
Spolier Alert! If you haven't seen the film yet, better not watch this clip. It depicts the last scene of the movie.
Click here to order Kino Lorber Blu-ray special edition from Amazon.
"Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood" is an acclaimed 2017 documentary by director Matt Tyrnauer, that centers on one Scotty Bowers, who passed away in 2019 but who lived to see the release of the film, which chronicles his rather eyebrow-raising adventures in Tinseltown. Who was Scotty Bowers? To the average person, his name won't ring any bells unless they read his autobiography, "Full Service" which was considered to be a "must" among movie fans who relish stories about the sex lives of legendary actors, actresses and directors. The film opens with Bowers, then in his 90s but seemingly as fit as a fiddle, enthusiastically promoting his book at signing sessions where he engages with appreciative admirers. Just what made Bowers unique enough to merit a feature-length documentary? He was always open about his experiences in old Hollywood in terms of providing sexual favors for both men and women, though his preference clearly seems to have been with the former. Bowers would have to have been classified as bisexual since we see him with his wife of 34 years, who apparently was ignorant of his past as a stud-for-hire during most of their time together. When we meet the couple, they are crammed into a once lovely house in L.A. (one of two that had been bequeathed to Bowers by grateful rich male lovers). Now, however, Bowers and his long-suffering spouse must contend with mile-high mountains of paperwork and clutter that would make for an episode of "Hoarders". Always affable and upbeat, Bowers unreservedly recounts his memories of his sexual encounters with the rich and famous in the days when being outed as a homosexual would mean the death knell on a career. The hypocrisy was staggering, of course, because Hollywood was populated by big names who everyone in the industry knew were gay or lesbian, even if the carefully-crafted studio publicity machines managed to keep their fans in the dark.
Those looking for salacious anecdotes won't be disappointed as Bowers recounts his life story He grew up in rural Illinois and joined the Marines in WWII, seeing life-altering combat during his stint. Upon returning to the States after the war, he got a nondescript job pumping gas at a service station on Hollywood Boulevard. He worked long hours, so he had a small trailer on the premises where he could grab some shut-eye. According to Bowers, one day actor Walter Pidgeon stopped by for gas and ended up inviting the hunky Bowers to his home for nude swimming and other activities. (Ahem...) Through Pidgeon, Bowers soon was being paid to provide sexual services for other prominent people, often accommodating them for money in his trailer at the gas station. Not one to keep a good thing to himself, Bowers would arrange to let other gay men use the trailer for clandestine get-togethers. Before long, the place was seeing more traffic than an L.A. freeway, but remarkably, Bowers was never found out or arrested. His status in the gay community spread and Bowers was making good money for providing his services, though in the documentary he takes pains to deny he was ever a pimp. He maintains that he never was paid for arranging for sex between other people, which he claims he did simply as favors. Many of the legends he cites as being secretly gay or bisexual are hardly shocking (Rock Hudson, George Cukor, Cole Porter, Charles Laughton and "bachelor roommates" Cary Grant and Randolph Scott.) Others, however, were new to me, including Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn, those long-time lovers who Bowers says weren't lovers at all. He maintains their "romance" was a sham designed to cover up the fact that both Tracy and Hepburn were homosexuals. Adding more spice to his stories is that he claims they were among many other Hollywood legends who he had sex with. But wait- it doesn't stop there! He also claims that the Duke of Windsor (and former king) and his wife (more commonly known as Edward and Mrs. Simpson) were both bisexual and that he had threesomes with them.
Director Tyrnauer provides plenty of vintage film clips throughout the documentary including some brief snippets of hardcore home movies of Scotty and his male pals. The stories are certainly sensational and Bowers comes across as likeable and unapologetic because he felt he was simply helping people in the oppressed gay community find some joy in life. But are his stories true? While he certainly tells these tales convincingly and in some cases is backed up by other talking heads, there's no real attempt to hold him to account to provide any definitive evidence. There is only one person at a book signing event who chastises him for waiting until all of the celebrities he writes about were dead and buried before going public with these sensational claims. Bowers dismisses him quickly but the point still gnawed at me while watching the film, as it does whenever the subjects of scandals are no longer around to defend themselves. Nevertheless, there is much that is undeniably true about the experience of being gay in the film industry of days gone by. However, one should ask if things are really much different today. Certainly, being out of the closet is ostensibly embraced by the film community but one seriously doubts whether a macho leading actor today would still be employable if they came out of the closet simply because the industry is just as hypocritical as ever.
The film is currently available for streaming rental or purchase on Amazon. Highly recommended, assuming you're broad-minded about Bowers' penchant for describing his activities in a jovial but graphic manner.
In this 2013 entry of "Trailers from Hell", John Landis dissects Norman Jewison's landmark 1966 Cold War comedy classic "The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming."
The
late Peter Bogdanovich called it “the first great detective movie.” That
statement is possibly arguable, but there is no question that the 1941 version
of The Maltese Falcon was the beginning of something new. Film
historians will forever debate what the first film noir might have been,
but Falcon is one of the contenders. The film presented a cynical, hard
boiled detective in Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart), utilized German expressionism
in its cinematography and design (low camera angles, high contrasting black and
white photography, shadows, and angular architecture), and a pessimistic tone. Falcon
also truly launched Bogart into the A-list. Prior to this (and, some say, High
Sierra, released the same year), Bogart usually played villains in crime
pictures, third billed or ever further down the line.
The
Maltese Falcon is
of course based on Dashiell Hammett’s 1930 novel, originally serialized in 1929.
Warner Brothers immediately bought the film rights, and an initial adaptation
was made and released in 1931 (also called The Maltese Falcon). This
version starred Ricardo Cortez as Spade and Bebe Daniels as Ruth Wonderly. The
picture definitely can be termed “pre-Code,” as it is rather risqué and isn’t a
very faithful adaptation of the novel. Warners remade the material five years
later as Satan Met a Lady, starring Warren William as “Ted Shane” and
none other than Bette Davis as “Valerie Purvis.” This version is played mostly
for laughs and is even less faithful than the first.
Enter
John Huston, who had been working in Hollywood in the late 1930s as a respected
screenwriter. He wrote the script for High Sierra (1941, directed by
Raoul Walsh), which starred Bogart. The two men became friends. Huston made it
known that he wanted to write and direct. Legend has it that Orson Welles
suggested that Huston try a faithful adaptation of The Maltese Falcon,
since the material was crying out to be done properly. Huston apparently wrote
the script and left it on Jack Warner’s desk. Then, on condition that no
“stars” were cast and the budget remain ridiculously low, Huston got the job to
make the film. At the time, Bogart was not a star. Co-star Mary Astor had been
a big star in the silent era and early 30s, but some personal scandals had
stymied her career by the 40s—so casting her was not expensive. The two other
(now) big names in the movie, Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet, were also
considered low risks. Lorre had been making cheap horror films and mysteries,
Greenstreet, a stage actor, had never made a movie. The picture also brought us
Elisha Cook, Jr., Gladys George, and Lee Patrick.
The
story is typically complex with many twists and turns, and it is always
surprising. It is about one of cinema’s greatest “MacGuffins,” a statue of a
falcon that is allegedly made out of gold and covered in rare jewels—but to disguise
it, someone covered it in black enamel. It seems everyone in the tale wants the
thing, except for private investigator Sam Spade (Bogart). He gets involved in
the hunt for the trophy when his partner, Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan) is
murdered at a rendezvous set up by a new client, “Ruth Wonderly” (Astor). It
turns out Wonderly’s real name is Brigid O’Shaughnessy (maybe), and she’s in
league with some sinister characters to buy—or steal—the statue. The “fat man,”
Kasper Gutman (Greenstreet) is the top villain here, and his sidekick, Joel
Cairo (Lorre), provides icky support. All Spade really wants to do is find out
who killed his partner and deliver that person to the police, but in doing so
must become embroiled in the intrigue and puzzles surrounding the coveted
Maltese Falcon.
Besides
the acting and direction, Huston’s script contains memorable lines of dialogue.
“When I slap you, you’ll take it and like it.” “Don’t be too sure I’m as
crooked as I’m supposed to be.” And of course, “The stuff that dreams are made
of.” The film received three Academy Award nominations—Best Picture, Best
Adapted Screenplay, and Best Supporting Actor (Greenstreet), but failed to win
any of them.
The
Warner Home Video Blu-ray edition of The Maltese Falcon was released over
ten years ago, but its timeless appeal makes it appropriate to review. It is a
marked improvement over the 2000 DVD release, which was bare bones. A further
2006 3-disk DVD release contained all of the extras ported over to this Blu-ray
edition. The high definition transfer looks great and is without blemishes. The
movie comes with an audio commentary (by Bogart biographer Eric Lax).
Supplements
abound: There’s an interesting, nearly half-hour featurette on the history of
the film; a collection of Bogart trailers narrated by the late Robert Osborne
of TCM; a blooper reel of Warners pictures; makeup tests; a 1941 newsreel; an
Oscar-nominated short (“The Gay Parisian”); two of the greatest Looney Tunes
cartoons (Bugs Bunny in “Hiawatha’s Rabbit Hunt” and Porky Pig in “Meet John
Doughboy”); trailers for Falcon and other Warners films of the era; and three
audio-only radio adaptations, two of which feature the movie’s original stars
and one with Edward G. Robinson). The only thing missing from the Blu-ray
edition is the inclusion of the previous two Falcon feature adaptations,
which were included in the 3-disk DVD set.
The
Maltese Falcon is
fabulous entertainment, a spectacular example of film noir, a showcase
for Humphrey Bogart’s star power, and one of the great Hollywood films of the
1940s. Highly recommended.
This
is a little-known gem of a film from producer Louis de Rochemont, the man best
known for introducing The March of Time documentary newsreels to cinemas
that ran from the 1930s until the early 1950s. He also produced several
mainstream pictures, and one of these from 1951, The Whistle at Eaton Falls,
is an underdog-battles-severe-odds tale of the highest caliber.
Directed
by Robert Siodmak and starring Lloyd Bridges, Whistle might be described
as Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, only with unions. Yes, this is a union
drama along the lines of On the Waterfront or, much later, Norma Rae.
In
a tight 96 minutes, Siodmak brings us a riveting story—the kind that gets an
audience riled up against the injustices thrown at a protagonist. The suspense
builds to a breaking point as we wonder how it’s all going to play out.
The
writing credits are a bit complicated. J. Sterling Livingston wrote the
original story, but then a story treatment was developed by Lawrence Dugan and
Laurence Heath. This was next turned into a screenplay by Lemist Esler and
Virginia Shaler (de Rochemont’s wife), with additional dialogue by Leo Rosten!
Whatever it took, the movie is well-written and engaging.
Supporting
Lloyd Bridges in the cast is a host of young, future character actors such as Murray
Hamilton, Ernest Borgnine, Arthur O’Connell, James Westerfield, Parker
Fennelly, and Anne Francis. Second billed, though, is Dorothy Gish (actually in
a small role). Carleton Carpenter, a crooner/actor of the period, has a showy
role as a younger union member who sings a number with Francis (“Ev’ry Other
Day”). Each cast member displays a down-home small town persona that works very
well with the location filming in New Hampshire, where the story takes place.
In
the hamlet of Eaton Falls, a whistle signals the beginning and end of the work
day. But there’s trouble. A shoe factory had to close down, laying off its
workers. Now, the Doubleday Plastic Factory is losing money and must cut costs
to stay in business. Brad Adams (Bridges) is the head of the union, and he is
determined to make sure no one gets laid off; and yet, Mr. Doubleday may be
forced to cut some workers as more modern machinery is purchased to pave the
way for the future. When Doubleday dies in an accident, his wife and now-owner
of the plant (Gish), appoints Brad the new president. This doesn’t sit well
with some of the crankier union members, like Al Webster (Hamilton, in one of
his typical “hothead” roles). To make things worse, the slimy production
manager, Hawkins (Russell Hardie) and his cohort, the company’s treasurer (Helen
Shields), plot to ruin Brad and convince Mrs. Doubleday to sell the company.
This would, of course, be a disaster for the town. Brad soon finds himself at
odds with his loyalties to the union and his responsibility as “management.”
Eventually, the plant must temporarily close while Brad and his few allies
scramble to find solutions to keep the company running while the malcontents
threaten upheaval and violence.
This
is potent stuff and while it doesn’t have the depth and grit that On the
Waterfront brought to the subject three years later, Whistle is
still a serious and tension-inducing winner. The cast is marvelous and the
black and white cinematography by Joseph C. Brun is striking.
Flicker
Alley/Flicker Fusion presents an impressive product. Great care was made to
restore the little-seen film to a 2K master, undertaken by the de Rochemont
estate and spearheaded by Tom H. March and David Strohmaier, the same team that
brought us the Flicker releases of the Cinerama and Cinemiracle films. There is
an audio commentary by author and film historian Alan K. Rode.
Supplements
include a short remembrance of de Rochemont from his grandson, L. Pierre de
Rochemont; a featurette on the restoration of the picture; an isolated score
track (music by Louis Applebaum); archival single recordings of Carleton
Carpenter’s “Ev’ry Other Day” and (presumably) the B-side, “It’s a Million to
One You’re in Love,” and the theatrical trailer. A nice insert contains an essay
excerpt from Richard Koszarski’s Keep ‘em in the East—Kazan, Kubrick and the
Post-War New York Film Renaissance.
The
Whistle at Eaton Falls is a surprise treasure from Flicker. For fans of
Hollywood post-war social problem dramas, and of the spectacular cast.
Recommended.
There
are a handful of Hollywood movies out there that successfully combined comedy
with the horror genre. Surprisingly, truly good ones are few and far between. Abbott
and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) is perhaps the quintessential example
of the genre mashup. It provided genuine thrills and some frights mixed in with
hilarious comedic bits. A more recent one that comes to mind is of course the
1984 megahit, Ghostbusters. There is no question that this Bill Murray
vehicle owes a great deal to the 1940 romp, The Ghost Breakers,
considered one of Bob Hope’s most beloved early pictures.
Based
on the 1909 stage play, The Ghost Breaker, by Paul Dickey and Charles W.
Goddard, the 1940 movie is actually a remake of previous adaptations. Both
Cecil B. DeMille and Alfred E. Green made silent films of the play in 1914 and
1922, respectively, and both of these versions are considered lost. In turn,
the 1940 The Ghost Breakers was remade by the same director, George
Marshall, as Scared Stiff (1953), which starred Dean Martin and Jerry
Lewis, and it is arguable that Marshall also helmed a very similar picture in
1945 entitled Murder, He Says, which starred Fred MacMurray.
After
the success of The Cat and the Canary (1939), yet another good example
of a Hollywood horror-comedy that starred Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard, the pair
was brought back a year later for The Ghost Breakers. Also starring
Richard Carlson, Paul Lukas, a young Anthony Quinn, and African-American comic
actor Willie Best, The Ghost Breakers was a popular hit that solidified
Hope’s place as one of the coming decade’s great talents.
Mary
Carter (Goddard) has inherited a spooky old mansion on an island off of Cuba,
and she plans to sail from New York to the island to inspect the place. Other
sinister forces—a foreigner named Parada (Lukas), the twin Mederos brothers
(Quinn, in both roles), and others not named here for the sake of spoilers,
also want the mansion because of a secret hidden within. Apparently it is also full
of ghosts, or so the legends say. During a classic situational and comedic
mix-up of mistaken identities, radio star Larry Lawrence (Hope) finds himself
trapped in Mary’s steamer trunk that has been loaded onto the ship to Cuba. Larry’s
loyal valet and friend, Alex (Best) stowaways to keep track of his boss. Once
on the island, Larry assumes the role of a “ghost buster,” since he’s obviously
fallen for Mary and wants to protect her from the bad guys. Throw in a handsome
historian, Geoff (Carlson), and the cinematic stew has enough complications and
plot twists to keep one entertained for the film’s brief 83 minutes.
Hope
is terrific, and one can easily see the development of his coward-with-bravado character
that he adapted for himself in pretty much all screen appearances, including
the “Road” pictures with Bing Crosby. Goddard is also winning, a perfect comic
and gorgeous foil for the tale. While the rest of the cast is admirable, one
must single out the great Willie Best, an actor who unfortunately was misused
by Hollywood—very typical in those days—to display a stereotype of the comic
black man with bulging eyes and slow dialogue delivery. (“Is you in there,
zombie?” he asks, knocking on a door.) That said, it is apparent that Best is brilliant
in comic timing, handling the demeaning characterization with utmost
professionalism. If The Ghost Breakers has a flaw, it is this. In
today’s climate, Best’s Alex is wince-inducing, but one can still appreciate
the man’s talent and competence.
Director
Marshall keeps the picture moving at a brisk pace, and the creepy aspects—while
certainly not scary today—are effective enough. Noble Johnson’s zombie is an
interesting take on that relatively rare creature (for the time), three years
prior to the Val Lewton masterpiece, I Walked with a Zombie.
Kino
Lorber’s new 2K master looks quite good in high definition, despite the age of
the material. There is an audio commentary by author and film historian Lee
Gambin that fills in listeners on all the trivia behind the movie. The only
supplement is a “Trailers from Hell” piece on the title by Larry Karaszewski,
and the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino releases.
The
Ghost Breakers is
for fans of Bob Hope, Paulette Goddard, Hollywood horror-comedy, and those
distinctive pre-war pictures that provided solid enjoyment in less than ninety
minutes.
Here is a highly entertaining compilation of publicity photos and behind-the-scenes shots taken on the set of the 1959 Oscar winning classic "Ben-Hur". The photos show the cast and crew hard at work, joking around, attending the premiere and enjoying visits to the set from the likes of Audrey Hepburn and Kirk Douglas. Speaking of Douglas, the soundtrack music added to the montage inexplicably includes the famous main theme for Douglas's "The Vikings"!
American Cinematographer magazine is providing plenty of catnip for James Bond fans by publishing on-line reprints of its coverage of the series from over the decades. In this article, Second Unit Director (and future Bond Director) John Glen provides a first-hand report on the filming of the 1969 classic "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" starring George Lazenby in his one, memorable turn as 007. Click here to access the article.
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
In honor of the esteemed actor Nehemiah Persoff, who recently passed away at age 102, we are running this interview originally conducted with Mr. Persoff in 2010 by the late writer Herb Shadrak.
Nehemiah Persoff: From Jerusalem to Hollywood and Beyond
By Herb Shadrak
Born in Jerusalem in 1919, Nehemiah Persoff went on to
become one of the busiest character actors in Hollywood. His face is familiar
to millions of boomers across North America from his numerous guest appearances
on just about every TV series that aired from the 1950s through the 1990s.
Persoff’s name may have been unfamiliar to many of these TV viewers, but his
face was instantly recognizable. Filmspot.com describes Persoff as a short, dark and stocky-framed actor who specialized in playing ethnic-type
villains, although he frequently essayed sympathetic roles as well. (Witness
his heartbreaking moments with Maria Schell in Voyage of the Damned.) Yet he excelled as gangland figures like
Johnny Torrio, mentor to Al Capone in
the 1959 biopic, or mobster Jake Greasy Thumbs Guzik, a recurring role on The Untouchables.
Persoff's childhood was poverty-stricken, but there was constant
singing, dancing and music in his home. He was a very creative and imaginative
youngster, who always visited the circus when it came to the Holy City. "There
was a large field in Jerusalem where the circus used to set up", Persoff
recalls. "It was a very small one-ring circus, but I loved it. Outside the circus
was an Arab with a box on a stand with peepholes in it, and he had a small
monkey on a chain with a hat. This was enough to make me stand there for hours
watching. One day, the Arab let me look through the peepholes. There I saw a
funny man with a derby and cane. He had a funny walk. It was Charlie Chaplin!
Little did I know that 20 years later I would meet that man face-to-face!"
Persoff found himself drawn to the cinema at an early age. "Two outdoor movie houses were opened on Zion Square: one was called Eden", he said. "It
had a circle of bulbs that would light up one after the other. I used to walk
down there barefoot and watch the cinema from a post on the street. From that
height I could see the top of the screen for free. I think the other outdoor
movie house was called Aviv. For its grand opening they showed Ben-Hur
with Ramon Novarro. There were pennants hung all over! I guess that was our
version of a Hollywood opening.I find that at age 88 my mind goes back to my early
childhood more and more. Jerusalem in the late twenties was a place like no
other. I cannot imagine a 10-year-old more attached to his birthplace than I
was. I was keenly aware of the love that people had for each other, the feeling
that we were all tied to the same cause. The pioneers came with nothing but
enthusiasm and a love for life and our native land. Their attitude was "to hell
with worldly goods, that's not what's important in our lives."
And yet Persoff's father, a silversmith and painter, felt he had no career
prospects in Palestine. So the young Persoff emigrated with his family to the
United States in 1929, just in time for the Stock Market Crash and the Great
Depression. Persoff spent several years working as an electrician on the New
York subway system, gradually taking an interest in acting in the 1940's.
"When I started acting, I was working in the subway and
there was a rule that subway workers were not allowed to have any other job"
Persoff remembers. "So on the program of the play, I used the name Nick Perry.
My reviews were great but no one knew it was me, so I got none of the glory.
After that I always used ˜Nehemiah Persoff".
After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, Persoff started
seriously pursuing an acting career in the New York theatre. In 1947, Persoffs
big break came along, one that would lead to steady work in films and
television for the next 52 years.
"My friend (actor) Lou Gilbert told me that if I wanted to
audition for the Actors Studio, he would arrange it. I jumped at the chance.
Elia Kazan was one of the busiest directors around, and to study with him and
be in his pool of actors was every actor's dream. I was in summer stock playing
the lead role in George Bernard Shaw's The Devil's Disciple. I knew that
Kazan was with the Group Theatre along with writer Clifford Odets. I thought of
doing something from an Odets play but then reasoned that perhaps a more
classic approach might work better for me, so I did a monologue from Shaw. Two
weeks later, I received an invitation to come to the first meeting of the
Actors Studio. I took my seat on a bench and slowly looked around. There were
John Garfield, Marlon Brando, Karl Malden, Montgomery Clift, Kim Hunter and
Maureen Stapleton, among others. Kazan began to speak and told us his aim was
to create a group of actors who work as he does, who speak his language, and
that the people assembled in this room were the cream of the talent available.
This was heady stuff for a nearly starving young actor. I studied with Lee
Strasberg. He was brilliant and helped me find myself as an actor… I owe him
much. Among other scenes, I did a Noel Coward piece with Kim Stanley"
After the Actors Studio, Persoff never looked back. His film credits include Kazan's On the
Waterfront, The Harder They Fall (Humphrey
Bogart's last film), Alfred Hitchcock's The
Wrong Man, Never Steal Anything Small
(with James Cagney), Rene Clement's This
Angry Age (shot in Thailand), Green
Mansions (with Audrey Hepburn and Anthony Perkins), The Hook (with
Kirk Douglas), A Global Affair (with
Bob Hope), Ray Danton's frightfest Psychic
Killer, Barbra Streisand's Yentl and
Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of
Christ.
Persoff also guest starred on about 400 TV shows, including The Twilight
Zone (playing a Nazi U-Boat captain in the classic episode "Judgment
Night"!), Route 66, Ben Casey, Wagon
Train, Rawhide, Mr. Novak, Burke's Law, Honey West, Dan August, The High
Chapparal, The Big Valley, The Legend of Jesse James, The Wild Wild West, Gilligan's
Island, Hawaii Five-O, Tarzan, It Takes a Thief, Land of the Giants
and The Time Tunnel.
In the mid-1980s, Persoff began to pursue painting. Now retired from
acting, he devotes full time to this avocation he has always loved.
Cinema Retro spoke to
Persoff from his home in Cambria, California. (Continue to next page for interview)
The
major question that I have about Douglas Heyes’s Kitten with a Whip,
which opened in New York on Wednesday, November 4, 1964 on a double bill with Lance
Comfort’s Sing and Swing (1963) with David Hemmings at some theaters, is
this: where is the titular whip? We have the kitten, as embodied by the overly
beautiful Ann-Margret as “bad girl” Jody Dvorak, but there is no whip to be
found. Perhaps the “whip” is her personality? There certainly is an argument to
be made for that. Jody has just made a break from a juvenile detention center
but not before seriously wounding the head of the place who becomes
hospitalized. Outwitting the police, she breaks into the semi-upscale home of David
Stratton (John Forsyth), a stuffy, by-the-book political candidate hopeful twenty-three
years her senior whose wife and daughter are conveniently away in a scenario
determined to make him look very creepy. David discovers Jody asleep in his
daughter’s bedroom and many questions ensue along with his disdain for her
presence. He knows full well that people will talk should they find out he is
harboring a fugitive dripping with sex appeal. Desperate to get rid of Jody, he
appears to be uneasy about his own unchecked desire for her which she readily
picks up on. A series of embarrassing situations that could reveal Jody’s
presence in David’s house to his friends and family bring out David’s true
nature, especially when Jody’s three friends (a 1960’s “tough girl” and
cinema’s two cleanest male “goons”) force their way in to crash his homelife in
a chain of events that lead them all to Mexico and a tragic ending.
Ann-Margret
had already made a name for herself appearing in Frank Capra’s Pocket Full
of Miracles (1961), José Ferrer’s State Fair (1962), and George
Sidney’s Bye Bye Birdie (1963) and his Viva Las Vegas (1964) by
the time she filmed this black-and-white outing. She sheds her ingenue persona
with sex kitten ferocity in a tale (or tail) that was based upon the 1959 novel
of the same name. Kitten is a showcase for her considerable talents in a
performance that goes from sublime and demur to that of a fighting and snarling
hellcat. The dialog dances around the issues of promiscuity and infidelity the
way that it had to at that time, coming on the heels of Elia Kazan’s 1958 Baby
Doll and Stanley Kubrick’s 1962 Lolita (in the novel Jody and David
have sex, however that would have been a big screen no-no in 1964 something
that Alfred Hitchcock knew all too well). Kitten comes just a little
later than it probably should have, but it allows its star to alternate
emotions in a performance that fluctuates from naïve innocence to verbally
threatening David should he call the police on her. While we are not talking
about anything so overtly sexual as the onscreen coupling of Marlon Brando and
Maria Schneider in Bernardo Bertolucci’s infamous Last Tango in Paris
(1972), the film no doubt raised some eyebrows at the time.
The movie is now available as a Region-Free Blu-ray from ViaVision Entertainment’s
fine Imprint video label, with a
brand new and beautiful high definition transfer.. The extras are as follows:
A very informative and entertaining audio commentary by film critics Alexandra
Heller-Nicholas,
author of the 2021 book The Giallo Canvas: Art, Excess and Horror Cinema,
and Josh
Nelson. They
discuss how Baltimore filmmaker John Waters considers Kitten to be a
failed art film, and there is a discussion of how the movie was seen as the low
point of Ann-Margret’s career and how she struggled and came back gloriously in
Carnal Knowledge (1971), earning her first Academy Award nomination for
Best Supporting Actress in 1972 (losing out to Cloris Leachman in The Last
Picture Show). Her second nomination was for Best Actress in Tommy
(1975) in 1976 (losing out to Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest).
Faster,
Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is
the aptly titled piece narrated by Kat Ellinger that runs about 29 minutes and
is a commentary on how teenagers were not a force to be reckoned with until
they possessed their own spending power. Juvenile delinquency was looked upon
as an epidemic that required a response. Rock ‘n Roll and comic books were
considered catalysts for juvenile delinquency, along with trashy movies at the
drive-in that were filled with violence,
sex and songs. Think the Beach Party films, Rebel Without a Cause
(1955) and The Wild One (1957) as the type of fare desired by this new dollar-toting
demographic. The Blackboard Jungle (1955) dealt with inner city school
bullies and authority, while other films presented stories of redemption and
salvation – themes that permeate much of the later cinema of Martin Scorsese.
Ms. Ellinger also discusses Roger Corman’s 1957 outing Teenage Doll, a
film devoted to girls which was released during an era of exploitation films
featuring unknown actresses. Jack Hill’s Switchblade Sisters (1973) is
also discussed as a film wherein the women use their sexuality as a weapon of
aggression. She also mentions the Sukeban films of Japan, loosely translated to
“girl boss”, a sub-genre of cinema wherein women weaponize their sexuality to
get what they want. While this piece is very interesting, the music overshadows
the narrator at times. I wish that this was addressed prior to pressing of the
disc. There is also a look at the paperback books of the era, and Jody was at
one time going to be played by Brigitte Bardot. The film falls into the “Bad
Girl” subgenre of Juvenile Delinquent stories.
She
Reached for Evil: Dissecting Kitten with a Whip is a video essay that runs about 18
minutes on pulp author Wade Miller by author and film historian Andrew Nette
(2021).
There
is also a photo gallery of black and white stills from the film.
MST3000
rips on the film as a parody in 1994 and is a hoot to listen to.
Click Here to order from Amazon USA and ignore
Amazon’s caveat about regional encoding. This disc will play an any Blu-ray
player. Non-U.S. readers can order the film directly from Imprint by clicking here.
Just following Christmas of 1940, Box Office reported Paramount’s new thriller The Mad Doctor would hit cinemas on Valentine’s Day of 1941.The actual sneak-preview – and accompanying
publicity push - of the film would take place ten days prior, February 4, at Los
Angeles’s Paramount Theater.Then, on
Saturday night, February 6, the studio would pull out all the stops, offering a
proper premiere for their “blood-chilling drama.”The studio would celebrate the double-bill of
The Mad Doctor and The Monster and the Girl as central to a
“Spook Week” celebration.Saturday’s
“hair-raising” program would not only feature the films but also a magician and
Andy Kirk and his Harlem Orchestra… the latter performing their swinging
“Spooks and Boogie Woogie” stage show.
The general release of The Mad Doctor, more fittingly described a “drama” than a horror film
in industry trades, was pushed to February 20.Perhaps issuing a blood-letting, wife-offing film on Valentine’s Day was
considered poor taste, or maybe not.In
any event, The Mad Doctor opened to
mixed reviews, ranging from “pretty good” to “poor entertainment.”There were certainly no raves, most critics finding
the film lackluster and derivative.The scenario
was a basic one, they reminded, mildly reminiscent of Charles Perrault’s 1697
fabled folktale Bluebeard.(PRC’s Bluebeard
(1944), starring John Carradine as the titular murderer, was still more than
years away from hitting screens).There
were also suggestions The Mad Doctor
was very similar to Rowland V. Lee’s 1937 British chiller Love from a Stranger.”The comparison
to this latter film was not unfair.That
film, partly based on an Agatha Christie mystery, also featured Basil Rathbone
as a charming womanizer who murders paramours for their dowries.
In the first few minutes of director Tim Whelan’s The Mad Doctor, Basil Rathbone’s Dr.
George Sebastien, an eminent psychiatrist, has already left a trail of formerly
betrothed bodies behind in Vienna, Savannah, and in the village of Midbury,
NY.He has been abetted in his scheming by
murderous accomplice Maurice (Martin Kosleck).Maurice may, or may not, have sexual feelings for Sebastien.This inference of a homosexual relationship between
these two ne’er-do-wells hangs awkwardly in subtle dialogue parries
and glancing looks between the two.But,
this being 1941, one can only assume why this element is not explored further.
Shortly following his bumping off of wife number three,
Sebastien decides to moves his head-shrinking practice to midtown
Manhattan.It’s there that he’s asked by
Louise Watkins (Barbara Jo Allen), the wife of a wealthy newspaper publisher Lawrence
Watkins (Hugh O’Connell), to address the melancholic behavior of a sister Linda
Boothe (Ellen Drew).Though she’s beautiful
and lacks for nothing, the grim but glamorous Linda routinely suffers dreams
where she stands at the “edge of the grave looking down.”Her morbid visions drives her to suicidal
attempts.We watch as she prepares to
jump from the parapet of a high-rise skyscraper.But the girl’s plunge is foiled by the quick intervention
of would-be suitor Gil Sawyer (John Howard).
The girl clearly is in need of mental health counseling.Though concerned about Linda’s “suicide
complex,” Sawyer more selfishly, if correctly, sizes up handsome
psycho-therapist Sebastien as a romantic rival.He disparages Sebastien as a “half-baked soul meddler,” assuring Linda (in
ignorance) she suffers from nothing greater than “ordinary hypochondria.”Sawyer cunningly uses his platform as a
newspaperman to publish a series of unflattering articles on the practice of psychotherapy
in the New York Sun.He hopes to expose Sebastien as the biggest
quack of the profession.But his
research into the doctor’s past leads him to suspect the therapist might very
well be a homicidal maniac.So when a
half-hypnotized Linda agrees to accept Dr. Sebastien’s proposal of marriage, there’s
reason to worry.
Though eight decades have passed since The Mad Doctor hit theaters, it’s hard
not to agree with the original critical assessments published upon release. Personally,
I’m a soft touch for old, creaky and gloomy celluloid mysteries of the 1930s
and 1940s, but what critics moaned as true eighty years ago remains true today.
The cast is good, the New York City penthouse atmosphere elegant and classy,
but the film, alas, is a slow drag.Technically, the film is not even a mystery.It’s no spoiler to reveal Rathbone’s
character as the de facto serial wife-killer and misogynist.This revelation is made plain in the film’s
first few minutes.The only mystery here
is how and when this will be revealed to fellow cast members.
Box
Office dismissed The Mad
Doctor as” not good enough to grace the upper half of the bill save in the
most unimportant program arrangements.”Variety was in agreement sighing,
“Pictures are supposed to move, but ‘Mad Doctor’ has a difficult time getting
anywhere.”The review continued, “This
cumbersome film, running 90 minutes could have been cut to 60 and still there
would have been little meat.”It’s unfortunate
but true. The Mad Doctor is, at best, a middling B picture masquerading as a
something better.There’s very little
suspense, hardly any action nor mystery present to keep moviegoers on the edge
of their seat.A full-page Paramount in-production
announcement published in June 1940 promised, “Basil plays a ‘Jekyll’ and
‘Hyde’ role in the heart chiller!”But
the resulting film is unable to deliver any of the promised thrills.
The Mad Doctor is neither a great film nor, to be
fair, a terribly poor one. Despite its elegant trappings, it’s merely
another B programmer, the sort of thing Monogram or PRC might have knocked out
with less polish or window dressing. The film is mostly doomed by its
ninety-minute running time. There’s enough on screen to suggest The
Mad Doctor might have been a more exciting offering if condensed by a
modicum of judicious editing. But, truthfully, there are other dooming issues
aside from the film’s length.Howard J.
Green’s screenplay is odd in construction; so much so that his paint-by-numbers
scenario offers cinemagoers few moments of audience engagement.
To be fair, Green was brought on to rework an already troubled
script (The Monster) that had been knocking
about the Paramount lot for years.Screenwriters Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur had been trying to get
their script of The Monster into
production as early as 1935. Variety
reported in January 1936 the pair was even bringing aboard Charles Lederer,
visiting Hollywood from New York, to assist in the film’s scripting.The problem was Paramount was simply not
interested in it.
This caused the writers to - unsuccessfully - try and
finagle a deal for The Monster with
the British arm of the Gaumont Film Company in the summer of 1936.Gaumont too would pass, the project remaining
in limbo until September 1939 when Paramount finally opted to purchase story
rights.On October 28, 1939, Box Office reported the studio had
engaged Green to write the script, with neither Hecht, MacArthur nor Lederer receiving
screen credit for their contributions.Perhaps this was a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth: the resulting
patchwork script is demonstrably less the sum of its parts.
The original supporting feature of this double-bill from
Paramount was Stuart Heisler’s The Monster and the Girl, another B film that
also would feature Ellen Drew as the damsel-in -distress. Though not a
classic by any stretch, at least that film (working title, The
Avenging Brain) is a bit of fun: Drew fights off a gorilla whose simian
cerebellum has been replaced by that of a vengeful gangster.At least The
Monster and the Girl half-delivers on what it promises.Something that, sadly, cannot be said of The Mad Doctor.
This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu ray of The Mad Doctor is presented herein an aspect ratio of 1.37:1 in 1920p x 1080p
with removable English subs and DTS monaural sound.The set also features an audio commentary
track supplied by film historian David Del Valle, as well as the film’s
theatrical trailer.Visually, I suspect
this film is going to look as good as it ever will.It’s doubtful this title will ever receive a
meticulous and expensive restoration; that would be an effort this film would arguably
not merit. The print used for transfer is not immaculate, but only God - and
a few film techs - would know the condition of the surviving elements used.
Medium shots tend to appear a bit soft-focused, but close-up photography
appears sharp with clarity. There are passing sprinkles of visual debris
and evidence of minor base and emulsion scratches, but these are minor issues
that do not distract.
We've been addicted to Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" website for many
years. If you haven't experienced its retro-related treasures, it's
time you did. What is "Trailers from Hell"? Well, who better to ask than
the esteemed director himself. Here's Joe's description:
"Around 2007 I was in a
quandry as to what to do with my 35mm trailer collection. Opportunities to
screen this kind of material were pretty rare, even in Hollywood. So I thought,
why not put them up on the internet? But that seemed underwhelming by itself,
so I decided to add some voiceover commentaries on my own. I think the first
ones I tackled were The Terror, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman and The
Unearthly. At first the idea was to mainly cover sci-fi and horror
titles, but when a few of my friends got wind of the idea they asked to broaden
the sphere and talk about their own choices. So anything we could find a
trailer for was fair game. It took awhile, but soon our roster of commentators
(we call them Grindhouse Gurus) started to swell. The only rule was they had to
be film professionals, not critics or academics. Today we proudly feature
commentaries by over 75 contributors, running the gamut from early adopters
like John Landis and Edgar Wright to the likes of Guillermo del Toro, John
Sayles, Illeana Douglas and Roger and Julie Corman. We have writers, directors,
producers and craftspeople of all kinds, each with their own unique takes on movies
they think other people should know about.
Part of the impetus for all
this was the fact that younger audiences tend to be unfamiliar with the
treasures of the past, even the recent past. There are just so many other
attractions competing for their eyeballs. With almost two thousand entries, TFH
hopes to make a dent in the miasma of "stuff" that's cluttering all
our lives and alert people to movies and artists they may not have encountered
anywhere else. It's kind of a mission for us. And it's fun! And now, having
added our podcast The Movies That Made Me, we're finally gaining some
traction. We certainly feel it's something that would appeal to readers of
Cinema Retro, and thanks for your support in the past."- Joe Dante
"Young Billy Young" is the kind of film of which it can be said,
"They don't make 'em like that anymore". Not because the movie is so
exceptional. In fact, it isn't exceptional on any level whatsoever.
Rather, it's the sheer ordinariness of the entire production that makes
one pine away for an era in which top talent could be attracted to
enjoyable, if unremarkable, fare such as this. Such films, especially
Westerns, were churned out with workmanlike professionalism to play to
undemanding audiences that didn't require mega-budget blockbusters to
feel they got their money's worth at the boxoffice. Sadly, such movies
have largely gone the way of the dodo bird. In today's film industry,
bigger must always be better and mid-range flicks such as are no longer
made. However, through home video releases such as Kino Lorber's Blu-ray
of "Young Billy Young" and streaming services such as Amazon Prime, it's possible to still enjoy the simple
pleasures that such movies provide.
The story opens with botched robbery in Mexico committed by Billy
Young (Robert Walker) and some cohorts including Jesse (David
Carradine). The plan to steal horses from the Mexican military goes awry
and Billy is forced to split from his fellow robbers with the army in
hot pursuit. Making his way back across the border to New Mexico, he is
penniless and desperate. He has a chance encounter with Ben Kane (Robert
Mitchum), a tough, sarcastic older man who he encounters again in a
nearby town. Here, Billy is being cheated at cards by the local sheriff,
who goads him into a gunfight. Billy ends up killing him but stands to
be framed for the sheriff's death. He's saved by Ben, who rides along
with him to another town where Ben has agreed to take on the job of
lawman. Ostensibly he is there to keep order and collect back taxes from
deadbeats but in reality, he is on a mission of revenge. Some years
before, Ben's son had been gunned down by a criminal named Boone (John
Anderson) and Kane has learned that Boone is a presence in the new town
and that he is being protected by a local corrupt businessman, John
Behan (Jack Kelly). Ben makes his presence known immediately by
enforcing the law in a strict manner. He's confronted by Behan, who
tries to intimidate him. This results in Behan being slapped around by
Kane. Behan also grows to resent the new lawman because he is flirting
with his mistress, saloon entertainer Lily Beloit (Angie Dickinson).
When Behan abuses her as punishment, he gets another beating from Kane.
Meanwhile, Billy runs into Jesse and accuses him of having deserted him
in Mexico. The two men fight it out and Jesse is later involved with the
accidental shooting of the town's beloved doctor while in the employ of
Behan. Kane learns that Jesse is Boone's son and holds him in jail as
bait for Boone to come out of hiding. The plan works all too well. Boone
turns up with a small army and lays siege to the jailhouse where Kane
and Billy are holed up.
"Young Billy Young" was compared to a TV show by New York Times critic
Howard Thompson on the basis that it contains so many standard elements
of westerns from this time period. There is the bad girl with the heart
of gold, the evil business tycoon, the brash young gun and his wiser,
older mentor, the heroes outnumbered by superior forces and a lovable
old coot (played against type by Paul Fix in full Walter Brennan/Gabby
Hayes mode.) Yet somehow it all works very well, thanks mostly to Robert
Mitchum's stalwart presence. With his trademark ramrod stiff walk and
cool persona, Mitchum tosses off bon mots like a frontier version
of 007. Even the Times acknowledged that "Mitchum can do laconic
wonders with a good wise-crack". He has considerable chemistry with
Dickinson, though the action between the sheets is more implied than
shown. Robert Walker Jr. acquits himself well in the title role and
David Carradine makes an impression even with limited screen time. The
film was directed by Burt Kennedy, an old hand at directing fine
westerns in reliable, if not remarkable, style and it all culminates in a
rip-snorting shoot-out that is genuinely exciting. The fine supporting
cast includes Willis Bouchey, Parley Baer and Deanna Martin (Dino's
daughter) in her acting debut. One oddball element to the film: Mitchum
croons the title song over the opening credits. If this sounds strange,
keep in mind that Mitchum improbably once had a hit album of calypso
music.
Ronnie’s, a 2020 documentary,
tells the story of Ronnie Scott and his legendary London jazz club.
From
the opening sequence in which virtuoso pianist Oscar Peterson and his band
perform in an exuberant split screen montage, the film announces itself as a
vehicle where style reflects content, and the filmmakers really know how to
present their material in a compelling way.
The
documentary recounts how Ronnie Scott, a poor Jewish kid from London’s East End,
becomes a top British jazz saxophonist in the 1940s and 50s.Eventually tiring of big band swing, and
inspired by the new music of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker, Scott forms
his own Bebop ensemble.In 1959, Scott
and his fellow musician and business partner, Pete King, open their own nightclub—Ronnie
Scott’s.It doesn’t take long for their
club to become the premiere jazz spot in London, and a must-visit venue for
jazz musicians and jazz lovers from around the world.
The
documentary includes performance clips, some extended, by Miles Davis, Buddy
Rich, Nina Simone, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Ben Webster, Sarah Vaughn, Sonny
Rollins, Ella Fitzgerald, and others.Much of the performance footage comes from a filmed concert at Ronnie’s
in 1969.There’s also a strange, almost
cringe-worthy performance by Van Morrison doing “Send in the Clowns,”
accompanied by Chet Baker on trumpet.
Besides
chronicling the club’s history, the film also tells the story of Scott himself,
who was plagued by depression throughout his life.His depression was at times
debilitating.Music was his savior—until
it wasn’t.Interviewees include Scott, his
two significant others, his daughter, business associates, and music luminaries
such as Quincy Jones.
Writer/director
Oliver Murray and editor Paul Trewartha bring the music, history, and personal tale
to life through inspired editorial choices such as presenting almost all the
interviews as voice over—leaving more room for the captivating archival and
performance footage.
If
the film follows the now-clichéd story arc of humble beginnings, to
rise-to-the-top success, to fall, to redemption (in this case, the
revitalization of Scott’s club after his death), then so be it.Within that familiar trajectory is emotional
depth, fascinating cultural history, and, of course, the music.
Ronnie’s is available on DVD
from Greenwich Entertainment.It’s also currently streaming
on several platforms. 102 minutes. Bonus features: trailers.
In
the early 1980s, Israeli cousins and co-producers Menahem Golan and Yoram
Globus – the men behind then-thriving outfit The Cannon Group – decided that
they would like to add an old-fashioned style horror film to their burgeoning
library of titles. They approached director Peter Walker, renowned for a slew
of successful exploitation pictures throughout the 1970s, suggesting he create
something for the likes of Bela Lugosi, Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff, blissfully
unaware the three actors were dead. Regardless, Walker took the baton and ran
with it, the result being 1983’s rather splendid House of the Long Shadows.
Probably
best remembered for assembling icons of horror cinema Peter Cushing,
Christopher Lee, Vincent Price and John Carradine under one roof, House of
the Long Shadows didn’t wow critics at the time and with hindsight it’s
easy to see why. Times had moved on since the relatively harmless monster
flicks of the 1930s and 40s and audiences were becoming accustomed to seeing
grisly fare such as Friday the 13th, Halloween and the
nerve-shredding remake of The Thing. Nevertheless, Cannon had requested
a throwback to those old movies and that’s what Walker delivered, being sure to
tick all the requisite clichéd boxes; an imposing house, creaking floorboards,
lightning storms, hidden tunnels, furtive sideways glances, locked doors to
attic rooms, and a series of murders that wouldn’t be out of place in And
Then There Were None were all present and correct.
After
he was initially approach by Golan and Globus, Walker had tried unsuccessfully
to acquire the rights to restage The Old Dark House. He then turned to
screenwriter Michael Armstrong, who conjured up a story based upon the 1913
novel “Seven Keys to Baldpate” by Earl Derr Biggers, playwright and creator of
Charlie Chan. Shooting took place on location at Rotherfield Park in East
Tisted (near Alton) in Hampshire.
The
plot is a simple one. An American novelist (Desi Arnaz, Jr) accepts a $20,000
bet from his publisher (Richard Todd) that challenges him to write a classic
chiller in one night. He travels to Wales and pitches up in a long-unoccupied
manor house at Bllyddpaetwr – pronounced Baldpate – convinced that the
surroundings will furnish him with the all the inspiration he needs.
Unfortunately,his attempts to get started are hindered by the arrival of an
assortment of mysterious visitors who, as the night progresses, are revealed to
have more in common first apparent.
The
aforementioned titans of terror aside, joining them on screen are Walker
regular Sheila Keith (who only ever got to play unpleasant characters, yet by
all accounts was the sweetest woman you could hope to meet), Julie Peasgood,
Richard Hunter, Louise English and (fleetingly) Norman Rossington. What a
fantastic cast, eh?
But
naturally enough the big draw is the four main stars. Lee is his usual reliably
imposing presence, commanding your attention every time he’s on screen. Cushing
turns in a particularly memorable performance; hobbled by an endearing speech
impediment – he can’t pronounce his Rs – his character also gets to deliver one
of the film’s best bits of dialogue as he melancholically explains why he’s
such a timid man. Price meanwhile gets the cream pf the blackly pithy lines (upon
discovering the body of a character who’s been strangled with piano wire he
remarks, deadpan, “They must have heard her singing.”). Carradine appears to
struggle a tad, occasionally not looking too sure where he is (he was in his
late 70s at the time this was made), but his performance is nothing to be
ashamed of and somehow that adds to the quirky charm of the piece.
With
a runtime of 121-minutes, it’s a bloated affair and could certainly have lost
several scenes in which characters wander around lost in the maze of tunnels;
it doesn’t make for tedious viewing as such, but they fail to move the story
along. All the same, as the climax approaches there are some nifty little
twists and at the end of the day it’s a pleasure to watch, if only to bask in the
fun that Cushing, Lee and Price evidently had making it.
Neglected
for years, House of the Long Shadows finally got to see a belated
release to DVD ten years ago andRegion A Blu-ray from Kino Lorber a few years back. Fans can now rejoice; it has been
spruced up for a Region 2 Blu-Ray release from Fabulous Films, including a host
of worthy supplements. The film itself has always suffered from a slight
murkiness, but here it looks better than ever it has and is accompanied by an
optional commentary track from Peter Walker and Derek Pykett. The standout
among the bonus inclusions is a feature-length documentary, “Return to House of
the Long Shadows”, originally shot and directed by Pykett – who clearly holds
the film in great esteem – in 2012. Running only 15-minues less than the movie
itself, much like that it might have benefited from a little judicious editing,
but it’s nonetheless an invaluable treasure trove of information and
reminiscences. Built around a revisit to Rotherfield Park by Walker, actress
Julie Peasgood (who barely seems to have aged a day) and cinematographer Norman
Langley, it boasts an impressive collection of additional interviews with
actors Desi Arnaz, Jr, Richard Hunter and Louise English, production designer
Michael Pickwoad, production manager Jeanne Ferber, writer Michael Armstrong,
camera operator John Simmons, costume designer Alan Flyng and composer Richard
Harvey. Additionally, there’s a separate 15-minute interview with Walker, a
short step-through gallery of stills and a trailer.
Rod Serling's "The Twilight Zone" remains a staple of popular culture. The show provided many poignant episodes and helped the careers of many rising young stars, as well as provided plum roles to industry veterans. Yet, we shouldn't view the series through rose-colored glasses. There were many episodes that fell short or were total misfires and this was apparent to Serling. In an article for Screen Rant, Gene Kosowan examines the flaws in the series that left Rod Serling frustrated. Click here to read.
"The Deadly Affair", directed by Sidney Lumet, is the 1967 film based
on John Le Carre's 1961 novel "Call for the Dead". Le Carre was riding
high during the Bond-inspired Bond phenomenon of the 1960s. Unlike the
surrealistic world of 007, Le Carre's books formed the basis for gritty
and gloomy espionage stories that were steeped in realism and cynicism.
The film adaptation of Le Carre's "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold"
had been released the previous year to great acclaim. Lumet, who made
"The Deadly Affair" for his own production company, rounded up top
flight British talent including screenwriter Paul Dehn, who had written
the film adaptation of "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" and co-wrote
the screenplay for "Goldfinger".
As with all Le Carre film adaptations, the plot is complex to the
point of being confusing. There are many intriguing characters of
dubious allegiance to one another, a scarcity of violence in favor of
people talking in back alleys and living rooms and a desire to paint the
world of Cold War espionage as a tawdry environment in which the good
guys are indistinguishable from the bad guys. James Mason plays Charles
Dobbs, a veteran British Intelligence agent who takes a leisurely walk
through St. James Park with a civil servant, Fennan (Robert Flemyng),who
is aspiring to get a promotion to the Foreign Office. Dobbs informs him
that there is a bit of concern about his security clearance because an
anonymous person has tipped off MI6 through a letter that states
Fennan's may have a dual allegiance to the communists. Dobbs considers
the matter somewhat trivial and tries to assure Fennan that his name
will probably be cleared. The men part on seemingly upbeat terms but the
next day Dobbs is told by his superiors that Fennan has committed
suicide. Dobbs is flabbergasted and insists the man showed no signs of
instability. Nevertheless, Dobbs feels he is being made to be the fall
guy for failing to see obvious weaknesses in Fennan's personality.
That's not his only problem. Domestically, his young wife Ann (Harriett
Andersson) is causing him great distress by taking on numerous lovers
under his very nose. (Dobbs is even instructed to phone her before he
comes home in case she has a bed mate in their house.) Dobbs is
humiliated at playing the role of cuckold but can't bring himself to
divorce Ann- even when it is revealed that his old friend Dieter
(Maximilian Schell), a German Intelligence agent who is visiting London,
has also been seduced by her.
Dobbs smells a rat at MI6 and doubts Fennan committed suicide. He
starts his own investigation into who killed him and why. An interview
with Fennan's widow (Simone Signoret) only makes matters more complex
when he begins to suspect she might be a Soviet agent. Dobbs enlists the
only two colleagues he can trust: agent Bill Appleby (Kenneth Haigh)
and the semi-retired agent Mendel (Harry Andrews). The trio find that as
they get closer to the truth, the trail is getting more dangerous with
numerous murders occurring and their own lives in danger.
To bring Le Carre's novel to the screen, certain recurring characters
from his books, such as legendary spy George Smiley, had to have their
names changed because Paramount had the rights to "The Spy Who Came in
from the Cold" and the characters appeared in the novel and screen
version. Paul Dehn's screenplay is confusing but never boring and by the
end you can pretty much figure out what is going on even if some of the
peripheral characters' significance remains a bit vague. Sidney Lumet
was the ultimate "actor's director" and could always be counted on to
get top-rate performances from his cast. "The Deadly Game" is no
exception, with James Mason in fine form as a man who has been disgraced
professionally and personally but who still has enough pride to attempt
to clear his name. Lumet hired two fine actors who appeared in his 1965
masterwork "The Hill"- Harry Andrews and Roy Kinnear- to reunite for
this production and they have a great scene together. (Andrews must be
one of the most under-rated actors of all time.) Maximilian Schell only
appears sporadically but his role is pivotal and he is typically
impressive, as is Simone Signoret as a woman of doubtful allegiance.
Harriett Andersson, whose proficiency in English was limited, is
occasionally difficult to understand (she was reportedly partially
dubbed because of this). She accepted the role at the last minute when
Candice Bergen had to back out of the film. She is suitably sultry and
her character is quite interesting, professing to love her husband even
as she revels in submitting him to sexual humiliation. The only humor in
the film is provided by a very amusing Lynn Redgrave in a small role as
Virgin Bumpus (!), an inept set designer for a Shakespearean theater
production. Quincy Jones provides a fine jazz score that fits in well
with the lounge music craze of the era and Freddie Young's
cinematography depicts London as an ominous, rain-spattered place that
adds to the chilling atmosphere of any Le Carre story. Adding to the impressive roster of talents involved with the film are Quincy Jones, who provides a fine jazzy score and cinematographer Freddie Young. Sidney Lumet wanted to film the production in B&W but the studio insisted on color. Thus, the ever-inventive Young created a process to intentionally make the scenes look drab and dubbed it "colorless color."
Although John Le Carre was not overly-impressed with the film, he did joke that he was beguiled by Harriet Andersson's nude scene. Le Carre's opinion aside, "The Deadly Affair" was highly acclaimed in Britain, having been
nominated for five BAFTA awards but it was largely overlooked amidst the
tidal wave of other spy movies from the time period. It's a first-rate
thriller and Indicator have done it justice with an equally excellent Blu-ray special edition, which is happily region-free and features a high definition remaster. In addition, the Blu-ray contains the following special edition features:
Original mono audio sound
An excellent commentary track by film historians Michael Brooke and Johnny Mains
"The Guardian Lecture with Sidney Lumet", a wonderful audio recording of a 1983 interview at the National Film Theatre conducted by Derek Malcolm, who gets the low-key director to discuss his own movies and the general state of cinema. Interestingly, even in 1983, Lumet predicted the short attention span (or perceived short attention span) of audiences would alter the way movies were made. He griped that in several recent films he had seen, no shot lasted for more than seven seconds without a cut being made.
"A Different Kind of Spy: Paul Dehn's Deadly Affair", a featurette in which writer David Kipen discusses the life and career of the esteemed screenwriter. Kipen is loquacious and interesting, providing background of Dehn's fascinating background. He was an instructor at a spy school while in the British military in WWII and among his students were Ian Fleming and John Le Carre. He later engaged in undercover activities himself. After the war, Dehn became a screenwriter and Kipen laments the fact that many of the economically-made, but expertly scripted films he worked on in post-war Britain remain largely unseen by international audiences. Kipen also informs us that Dehn was a gay man living in Britain when homosexuality was still a crime and how his closeted life and long-time lover affair with film composer James Bernard may have influenced his work.
"Lumet's London" is a short featurette that shows "then-and-now" footage and photos of the various locations seen in the film.
"Take One and Move On" is a short but interesting interview with camera operator Brian West, who recalls the inventive way cinematographer Freddie Young planned some innovative shots.
"The National Film Theatre Lecture with James Mason" is a rare gem from 1967. Mason didn't give an abundance of interviews and wasn't a common presence on chat shows. This marvelous interview before an enthusiastic audience is worth the price of the Blu-ray alone. Mason is, as you might expect, urbane, charismatic and very witty as he relates stories of his life and career including some tidbits about the pleasures and stresses of working with Hitchcock and Kubrick.
In all, this is a first-rate release of a first-rate, if underrated, espionage thriller.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE REGION-FREE BLU-RAY, WHICH IS CURRENTLY ONE OF A NUMBER OF TITLES ON SALE.
Canadian
filmmaker David Cronenberg has always managed to push the envelope with nearly
every one of his striking pieces of work since he appeared on the scene in the
mid-1970s. Known at first as primarily a director of unique “body-horror” films
(The Brood, 1979, or The Fly; 1986), Cronenberg spread his wings
in the 1990s and moved away from the genre to tackle more dramatic and varied
subjects. His 2007 crime picture about the Russian mafia operating in London, Eastern
Promises, stands as a milestone title in the director’s filmography.
Kino
Lorber Classics has released a superb 2-disk (4K Ultra and Blu-ray) package of
the film, and the results are impressive. The picture quality is so sharp and
clear that it could be used as a demonstration product for high definition
televisions.
Anna
Khitrova (Naomi Watts) is a British-Russian who lives with her parents, Helen
and Stepan (Sinéad Cusack, and filmmaker Jerzy Skolimowsky in
an acting role). Stepan is an ex-KGB officer, and the family emigrated to the
U.K. some years ago. Anna works as a midwife in a London hospital, where she treats
a teenage Russian girl who dies in childbirth. The girl has a diary, written in
Russian, as well as a business card for a well-known Russian restaurant. Anna
is determined to find the girl’s family so that the baby can have a proper home.
She visits the restaurant and meets the manager, Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl),
but he is really an elderly but powerful Russian mafia chief. Semyon has a
brash and reckless son, Kirill (Vincent Cassel), who runs brothels in London
stocked with women trafficked from Russia. The family’s bodyguard/chauffeur is
Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen). He is a formidable killer who insists he’s “just the
driver,” and yet there is something good inside Nikolai that transcends his
menace. As Anna digs deeper into the mystery, she discovers the truth about the
organized crime going on in her city, and she also develops a dangerous mutual
attraction with Nikolai. When Kirill authorizes a hit on a rival Chechen gangster
without Semyon’s approval, a war between the two groups ensues, and Anna and
her parents are caught in the middle.
Eastern
Promises,
written by Steven Knight, is one of the better organized crime pictures ever
made. Cronenberg and Knight seriously did a deep-dive into the realism of the
piece, and star Mortensen went so far as to hang out with real Russian mafia
soldiers to learn the lingo and especially study the all-important tattoos that
adorn the men’s bodies.
Viggo
Mortensen is fabulous in his portrayal and he was Oscar-nominated for his
efforts. For this reviewer’s money, he should have won (Daniel Day-Lewis scored
the trophy for There Will Be Blood). For the fight scene in the bath house
alone, in which an entirely nude Mortensen fights two clothed men armed with
knives, the actor deserved every accolade on the planet. The sequence is the
centerpiece of the film, and it’s one of the best directed and choreographed
fight scenes of the last twenty years.
Watts
is terrific, as always, and Mueller-Stahl delivers a chilling turn, too. However,
the movie belongs to Mortensen and to director Cronenberg.
For
Kino Lorber’s HDR Dolby Vision Master of the movie, Peter Suschitzky approved
and color graded his own cinematography. It looks simply marvelous. There are
several short vintage featurettes included as supplements, also in HD: interviews
with writer Knight and director Cronenberg; a piece on the tattoos and their
significance; and looks at the bath house scene and Naomi Watts’ motorcycle
riding, plus two theatrical trailers and other Kino Lorber trailers.
Eastern
Promises is
for fans of riveting crime dramas, the films of David Cronenberg, actor Viggo
Mortensen, and actress Naomi Watts. Highly recommended.
By
1939, comic superstar W. C. Fields (real name William Claude Dukenfield) had a
love-hate relationship with Hollywood. While he was still something of a box
office draw and enjoyed immense popularity, Fields’ relationship with the
bottle was causing more problems for the actor, and he had lost his contract
with Paramount, the home of his earlier talkies. After a resurgence in
admiration due to radio broadcasts with ventriloquist Edgar Bergen (and his
dummy partner, Charlie McCarthy), Fields signed a new contract with Universal.
The first picture out of the gate was a team-up with Fields and Bergen/McCarthy.
You
Can’t Cheat an Honest Man can’t be counted among Fields’ best pictures, but it’s
entertaining and funny enough. It is arguable that Bergen and McCarthy steal
the show based on Bergen’s charm and good looks, and Bergen’s is the most
likable character in the story. While Fields has some great signature lines in
the picture, Bergen and McCarthy have a great deal of funny dialogue.
The
movie’s story is by Fields (using the pseudonym Charles Bogle), with a
screenplay by Everett Freeman, Richard Mack, and George Marion, Jr. George
Marshall received screen credit as director, although historians have claimed
that Marshall and Fields did not get along. Hence, Edward F. Cline was brought
in to exclusively work with Fields on his scenes; Cline was then hired to
direct Fields’ next films with Universal. Furthermore, second unit director B.
Reeves Eason did more than his share of action and chase sequences. Remarkably,
the film, with three directors, came out all right.
Fields
is Larsen E. Whipsnade (Larsen E.? Get it?), a traveling circus proprietor who
cheats his own staff by not paying them. The law is after him, too, and the
circus is one step away from bankruptcy. He has grown children not involved in
the circus—Vicky (Constance Moore) and Phineas (John Arledge). Phineas wants
Vicky to marry wealthy but boring socialite Roger Bel-Goodie (James Bush) so
that Phineas can get a job in Roger’s company, but Vicky isn’t keen. When she
visits her father at the circus, Vicky meets Edgar Bergen (playing himself, as
one of the circus acts), who is never without his dummy, Charlie. Edgar
immediately falls for Vicky, and while Whipsnade has no problem with Edgar, he
can’t stand Charlie (a “termite’s flophouse!”). Vicky eventually agrees to
marry Roger in order to become wealthy enough to save her father’s circus.
During the final half hour of the film, Vicky and Roger’s engagement party at
the posh Bel-Goodie mansion becomes a chaotic disruption as Whipsnade manages
to insult and frighten the elder Bel-Goodies, while Edgar/Charlie have been
cast adrift in a weather balloon. Will Vicky and Edgar get together? Will the
circus be saved? Who cares, it’s all just a vehicle for the brilliance of W. C.
Fields’ comedic antics and Edgar Bergen’s talent at ventriloquism.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray 2K master looks and sounds fine, certainly an upgrade from
previous DVD releases. There is an informative and humorous audio commentary by
film historian Michael Schlesinger, plus the theatrical trailers for this and
other Kino Lorber releases.
You
Can’t Cheat an Honest Man is for fans of W. C. Fields, Edgar Bergen, and late 1930s
Hollywood comedy. As Larsen E. Whipsnade’s grandfather Litvak used to say, “You
can’t cheat an honest man. Never give a sucker an even break or smarten up a
chump.”
Lucille Ball is very much back in the public eye due to the success of the acclaimed film "Being the Ricardos". Here's a blast from the past, provided by Shout! Factory- the complete Dean Martin Roasts program "honoring" Lucille Ball. The lineup of greats is almost surrealistic: Jack Benny, Dan Rowan, Don Rickles, Bob Hope, Ginger Rogers, Dick Martin, Totie Fields, Milton Berle, Henry Fonda, Nipsey Russell, Vivian Vance, Rich Little, Foster Brooks, Phyllis Diller, Gale Gordon, and, of course, Dino. This time capsule from 1975 is the epitome of what would now be called politically incorrect humor, but it thankfully preserves a period of time in which people could not only take a joke about themselves, but were honored to be the recipient of those pointed barbs. - Lee Pfeiffer
It
reaches from the grave to re-live the horror, the terror! More
destructive!More terrifying!” (1958 ad campaign for Frankenstein’s Daughter.)-
Promises, promises.Even the most forgiving fans of low-budget 1950s horror concede Richard E.
Cunha’s Frankenstein’s Daughter is a
mess.It’s the sort of film where
everything seems off-kilter: the script, the acting, the monster, the directing
and flat lighting… well, everything,
really.Ironically, this reality is also,
perversely, the film’s single saving grace.If you go into Frankenstein’s
Daughter with such knowledge aforethought and low-expectations, the resulting
film – brought in on a budget of $60,000 - is actually pretty entertaining, if
only in a manner of speaking.
In 1958 one New York tabloid chastised Manhattan’s
Mayfair Theater for plummeting “to an all-time low in booking not one, but two,
of the year’s worst films.” Describing the double-bill of Frankenstein’s Daughter and its co-bill Missile to the Moon as nothing less than “pathetic,” the critic
opined producer Marc Frederic and Cunha might have be better suited as
“shoemakers” than filmmakers.I would
say that assessment is an unfair one… with the caveat that my tolerance for bad
movies is pretty high.
Director Cunha’s previous double-bill of low budget
horrors Giant of the Unknown and She Demons had performed reasonably at
the box office.Well enough that in
April of 1958 the Hollywood Reporter
noted Fred Ballin, the President of Astor Pictures, had brokered a deal with
Marc Frederick’s [sic] Layton Productions to deliver no fewer than ten feature
films in a twenty-four month period. The first two films of this partnership
were to be Frankenstein’s Daughter
and a sci-fi epic provisionally titled Satellite
(later changed to Missile to the Moon).Cunha was tapped to direct both films, the
former title to begin shooting on April 30.
I would only catch Frankenstein’s
Daughter some fourteen years on.The
film was featured on New York City’s WPIX-TV’s Chiller Theatre in the early
winter of 1972.I can’t remember with any
accuracy now, but I’m sure I sort of enjoyed
the movie back then, at least in a more or less manner.The film’s primary monster (this film
generously sports two) was sort of cool looking:ping-pong ball sized eyes, a fright wig, acid
scarred skin and a set of eyebrows befitting Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev.The face of the film’s secondary creature,
also a creation of the picture’s mad doctor, seems less Frankenstein’s monster
and more Mrs. Hyde in appearance, but that’s nit-picking.To Cunha’s credit there’s no suspenseful long
drag as we await the ghastly reveal of the first monster.“Trudy” (Sandra Knight), the film’s secondary
fiend, appears on screen within a minute or so into the movie during a
nightmare sequence.
Frankenstein’s Daughter
centers around the experimentations of Dr. Oliver Frank (Donald Murphy) whom,
we learn, is actually the grandson of the original Dr. Frankenstein. Frank, in
all truth, is a pretty awful guy, cynical, intense, lecherous and high-strung.
He’s working with the doddering Carter Morton (Felix Locher) who, quite
frankly, is no prize himself. Though dismissed from his former position at
Rockwell Laboratories, Morton occasionally manages to break into and steal from
the office of his former employer whenever he’s in need of additional materials.
Dr. Frank also has an assistant, Elsu (Wolfe Barzell), a
creepy old colleague of his grandfather’s.Interestingly, Elsu seems far less weird than the two egghead scientists
he assists in the secreted basement laboratory of the Frank home.But then again - and given his history - Elsu
has seen it all, I imagine. But even with the help of two his assistants,
Dr. Frank’s recent experiments have brought about a disappointing a combination
of mixed results and outright failures.
The mad doctor ascertains his two most recent misfires
were caused by his having created strong-willed male monsters. So he’s chosen to re-jigger his experiments by
turning female candidates into full-fledged monsters.This, he reasons, is sure to correct past
mistakes since a woman’s brain is more “responsive to command.”To this end he’s already turned Morton’s
lovely niece Trudy, into a drug-addled half-monster.
But his most frightening monster is his newest creation,
a huge, skulking and violent creature whose feminine features are all but
indiscernible. (It was only after reading Tom Weaver’s old interview with Cunha
that I discovered make-up artist Harry Thomas was simply unaware he was to
craft a female monster for the film.So,
due to time constraints, the filmmakers simply went with the androgynous
monster supplied).
Regardless, Trudy and boyfriend Johnny (John Ashley) eventually
come to suspect there’s something odd going on in the basement and decide to
have a look. When the two teens manage to thwart Dr. Frank’s evil
schemes, the mad doctor scornfully bellows, in classic Scooby Doo
fashion, “Are you satisfied now, you meddling kids?”
Yes, this is a bad movie, but not an unentertaining one. H.E.
Barrie’s (the nom de plume of a
writer who understandably asked for anonymity) script is chock full of
head-scratching improbable turns and purple prose passages.As low budget 1950s sci-fi goes, I guess some
of the dialogue and plot contrivances might have been tempered, if not
salvaged, by the delivery a more capable ensemble.But as so much of Barrie’s dialogue is
delivered in wooden fashion, many of the scripted exchanges invoke only laughter
and head shakes.
Moving the traditional Frankenstein setting from a gloomy
old European castle to a modern suburban American home (the establishing shot
is actually the home of producer Frederic), was one way for the production team
to shave a few dollars from the budget. It is also allowed for the
inevitable ‘50s teenage dance party to be dropped into the picture’s middle
without much fuss. One bit of curious casting is that of Harold Lloyd Jr.
as “Don.”Lloyd, the son of the
legendary silent film actor-comedian, had also tried his hand at acting and
singing prior to his untimely death at age 40.The Page Cavanaugh Trio, a well-scrubbed electric jazz combo, backs Don
on his scat-singing solos on “Special Date” and their own “Daddy-Bird.”
So that’s the honest criticism.But this movie (shot in six ten-hour days
according to Weaver) is actually a fun popcorn-munching effort if you’re in the
right mood and tend to wallow in B-movie nostalgia.This “Special Edition” Blu-ray from Film
Detective offers Frankenstein’s Daughter
in all of its 85 minute B &W glory in a 1.85: 1 aspect ratio and DTS
monaural sound. It looks as good as it likely ever will.
Film Detective also, much to their credit, pulls out all
the stops on this set.There are two
separate commentary tracks, one by Weaver, one by filmmaker Larry Blamire, as
well as two featurettes: Richard E.
Cunha: Filmmaker of the Unknown and John
Ashley: Man from the B’s.There’s
also a twelve-page booklet written by Weaver, with accompanying photos.The booklet neatly condenses and distills much
of the info offered in the expansive commentaries. Final verdict: this release is worth a shot,
just as long as you know what you’re getting into.
We've often written about the
shameful conceit of movie studios that used to cast Caucasian actors in
leading roles pertaining to ethnic minorities. Sure, it was fine to have
actual minority actors playing supporting roles (often for comic
effect) but the most important characters were generally always
portrayed by white actors or actresses (remember Rex Harrison as The
King of Siam???). Sadly, this blatant policy of racial prejudice often
extended to films that were sympathetic to the very races they were
portraying. Case in point: Geronimo, a 1962 Western that
purports to tell the story of the legendary Apache leader who stood
virtually alone against the U.S. government, even after most of his
tribe was browbeaten into surrendering. The logic at United Artists at
the time was that there was no actor more appropriate to play a famous
Native American other than blonde-haired, blue-eyed Chuck Connors, who was riding high at the time as
the star of the popular TV series The Rifleman. He
certainly possessed an imposing physique as well as more-than-adequate
acting abilities. However, even with a black Morticia
Addams wig, there is no doubt he was completely miscast as Geronimo.
This was also the case with fellow cast members Kamala Devi, a gorgeous
flash-in-the-pan actress who worked on several projects with Connors
before fading into oblivion and Ross Martin (!), the fine actor
primarily known for playing Artemus Gordon in the Wild, Wild West TV
series. Not only are all these folks woefully wrong for their roles,
the characters talk in modern vernacular that makes you think they must
be part of the obscure Apache tribe from Bayonne, New Jersey.
This much must be said about Geronimo: - the intention of the producers was
noble. This is probably one of the first major studio releases that
dared to portray Native Americans in a truly sympathetic light. The film
opens with Geronimo reluctantly surrendering to the U.S. Cavalry in
order to spare his few remaining followers more deprivation and
starvation. Once at the reservation, he quickly learns he has been
deceived and that the tribe is slated to be humiliated wards of the
government, stripped of any dignity or civil rights. This bold notion is
watered down, however, by a screenplay that ensures that these
deceitful practices are the work of a few bad apples. There's no way the
American government in Washington D.C. would ever have sanctioned
breaking treaties! By punting on presenting actual history, the story
loses its impact. Geronimo and some of his men rebel by breaking out of
the reservation and going on the war path. If the film goes lightly on
the U.S. government, so, too does it present Geronimo in a sanctified
light. There isn't a hint of the atrocities he committed against
settlers, probably because Chuck Connors' fans would have marched on the
studio bosses and burned them in effigy. The film is comic book
history, presenting only the barest hint of historical fact and even
includes a ridiculous happy ending that absolves the U.S. government and
Geronimo of any mistakes in judgment.
It's to Connors' credit that he doesn't come across as ridiculously
as he might. The film also presents that wonderful character actor John
Anderson in a fine performance as a corrupt Indian agent and another
future TV icon, Adam West, has a supporting role as a cavalry officer
sympathetic to Geronimo. Director Arnold Laven keeps the action moving
with nary a dull patch and it can be said that the movie is passably
entertaining.
Like many boys who grew up in the 1960s, I was addicted to Mad magazine. It's sarcastic satires of politicians and pop culture figures were all the rage and the magazine was a showcase for some truly impressive writers and artists. Mad pushed the envelope in some regards but publisher William Gaines still maintained a family-friendly facade. In 1970 (I assure, that is A.D.), I entered high school a few months after another satire magazine, National Lampoon, published its premiere issue. The first issue I saw featured a striking cover by artist Frank Frazetta that spoofed those old jungle movies. It depicted a courageous white guy saving a scantily clad white woman from a hoard of African natives. It was titled "White Man's Wet Dream". I was hooked before I opened the magazine. National Lampoon became a "must-read" for young people of the era. Unlike Mad, there were no holds barred when it came to off-limits subjects. Anyone and anything was fair game for the team of talented writers and artists, many of whom would go on to notable careers. The sexual content was presented in a humorous manner but it broke barriers in terms of what was depicted. Even the official line of National Lampoon souvenirs were hawked by topless young women. The success of the Lampoon was such that, by 1978, the company entered the movie business. The first release, "National Lampoon's Animal House" made John Belushi into a big screen star and elevated John Landis from obscurity into one of the industry's hottest directors. The film was a sensation so it seemed inevitable that more Lampoon films would emerge- and they did, though none of them were related to the original movie. Chevy Chase starred in some of the popular "Vacation" movies that bore the banner of the Lampoon, but most of the other attempts to blend the magazine concepts to the big screen resulted in rather nondescript productions that had little theatrical exposure before going to home video. By 1998, the magazine itself had run out of steam and ceased publication after a glorious and influential run, although the company name is still actively linked to various TV, video and big screen projects.
One of the more obscure feature films is "National Lampoon's Movie Madness", a 1982 collection of unrelated comedies stories linked by nothing other than the Lampoon name. As the old joke goes, "the movie wasn't released- it escaped!", as indicated on IMDB, which lists the film's theatrical gross as $63,000, which was probably due to tickets sold to just the people involved in making it. The movie marked the debut of director Bob Giraldi, who promptly left feature films to become one of the top music video directors in the industry. One segment of the film was directed by Henry Jaglom..yes, that Henry Jaglom, the acclaimed director of indie films who has developed a loyal international fan base. It's telling that while Jaglom continued making feature films, he has never worked for a major studio again. The mess of a feature film consists of three separate stories. In "Growing Yourself", Peter Riegert is Jason Cooper, a rich New York Yuppie with a wife (Candy Clark) and two small kids. One day, on a whim, he tells his wife that they should leave each other in order for both them to find the space to "grow". Without batting an eye, she promptly leaves. Jason adopts an increasingly bizarre lifestyle that includes turning his apartment into a jungle of sorts. He pursues unsuccessful relationships with women, including a 14 year-old temptress played by young Diane Lane. At one point, he gives away custody of one of his children to a stranger without batting an eye. When his wife returns later, she informs him that she has gone from housewife to running Union Carbide. The entire scenario is weird but occasionally amusing because the characters simply accept mind-boggling developments with barely a shrug - and Peter Riegert plays the smarmy, self-absorbed Jason with just the right touch.
The second tale is "Success Wanters" and features Ann Dusenberry as an aspiring stripper, Dominique, who makes the ill-fated decision to appear at a convention of executives for the butter industry. Within minutes, the horny, tuxedo-clad, cigar smoking middle-aged execs decide to gang rape her--- and use some handy sticks of butter as useful novelties. This was the early 1980s and group sexual abuse could still be shown to comedic effect, although fortunately, we aren't treated to seeing the dirty deed itself. Instead of going after the rapists legally, she decides to bring down the entire butter industry by making Americans more addicted to margarine (I'm not making this up, folks.) This she achieves by becoming the mistress of a margarine magnate (such people must exist) played by Robert Culp. While he's on his death bed, she gets him to sign his empire over to her and she wields her new powers to mortally wound the butter industry, a strategy that sees her seducing the President of the United States (Fred Willard) and the First Lady. Despite the outrageous scenario, the entire segment is more absurd than funny.
The last, and least, of the segments is "Municipalians",which finds young Robby Benson as a rookie L.A. cop partnered with a season veteran played by Richard Widmark. The entire scenario centers on us watching the hopelessly innocent, naive and perpetually smiling Benson become corrupted by the system and the dehumanizing crimes he's forced to deal with, all unfolding as Widmark sits in the squad car ignoring the violence around him as he counts the days until his retirement. Eventually, Benson becomes a raging lunatic himself. The segment had possibilities in terms of satirizing the cliched scenario of the young cop teamed with the grumpy veteran, but the result is awful in a mind-boggling way. Benson is game to try anything under Jaglom's misdirection but we can assume he was happy that virtually no one saw the film. Only Widmark emerges with his dignity intact. Jaglom later blamed the studio for compromising his segment but if they cut any footage, it was probably considered to be a humanitarian gesture.
Code Red has released "National Lampoon's Movie Madness" on Blu-ray to the joy of bad movie fans and the probable disgust of anyone still alive who was involved in it. The Zucker brothers had the right touch for these types of theatre of the absurd premises but directors Giraldi and Jaglom have heavy hands and are working with pretty awful scripts. The only saving grace is the abundance of veteran actors and up-and-comers who make appearances. They include Elisha Cook, Jr, Rhea Perlman,Tito Vandis (a rare performance that clicks), Joe Spinell, Olympia Dukakis, Dick Miller, Christopher Lloyd, Julie Kavner and even porn superstar Harry Reems. The only one who makes an impression is Henny Youngman, whose 30 seconds of rapid-fire old jokes makes you wish they would have simply used his stand-up act to close out the latter part of the film. From a sociological view, however, it's interesting how audience's tastes have changed over the ensuing years. At times it appears the primary reason for the film's existence was to exploit each of the actresses who appear topless at length in the first two segments, despite the fact that it certainly wasn't essential to the script. Giraldi's cameras linger on the undraped actresses who engage in small talk to justify the exploitation. For those viewers of a certain age, there may be pangs of nostalgia for an era in which no one was overly-concerned about such practices, but judged by today's industry standards, it would be largely unthinkable to film segments such as these.
The Code Red video looks reasonably good and the only bonus feature is a trailer. In viewing it, I came to the conclusion that the studio should have released only the trailer and called it a day. The movie poster artwork depicted on the sleeve seems to be an homage (or rip-off) of Jack Davis's iconic campaign for "Its' a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World". Sadly, the comedic analogies end there.
Bruce Willis's family has announced the legendary actor will be "stepping away" from acting due to health-related concerns.Willis has been diagnosed with aphasia, a condition that affects someone's abilities to communicate either verbally or through writing. The condition, which progresses slowly, causes degenerative harm and is usually caused by a head injury or a stroke. It is not known what the precise cause of Willis's condition is or whether it may have resulted from his work in action-oriented films. For more, click here.
Enjoy this episode of "The Saint" starring Roger Moore, originally aired in 1963 and presented by Shout! Factory. You'll see some familiar faces in the cast: Dawn Addams, Neil McCallum, Michael Bates and Angus Lennie (who appeared in "The Great Escape" the same year) among them. This episode, "The Fellow Traveler", was the second episode of Season 2. Check out Shout!FactoryTV.com for more classic shows and movies. To watch the film using the "full screen" option, click here)
Thanks to Universal, you can enjoy "Eight on the Lam" (1967) starring Bob Hope, Phyllis Diller, Jill St. John and Jonathan Winters. If you subscribe to their YouTube channel, you'll get access to many other uncut feature films from the studio archives. (To watch the film using the "full screen" option, click here.)
Scholars have long debated whether it was Mark Twain or newspaper editor Charles Dudley Warner who came up with the oft-quoted quip "Everybody complains about the weather but nobody does anything about it." Regardless, the sentiments of the quotation can easily be applied to the annual Academy Awards ceremony. Dwindling ratings, lack of enthusiasm among young movie-goers, an industry bereft of the legendary personalities audiences used to tune in to see- all of these factors have put the Oscars on pop culture life support in recent years. Who knew all it would take was one superstar in meltdown mode to make last night's ceremonies "must-see" TV? Unfortunately, the entire ceremony will always be remembered for Will Smith's act of inexcusable violence against presenter Chris Rock, who remained cool and dignified under very strained circumstances. There's no point in going into details because by now you know what happened. Smith's temper tantrum marginalized everything that followed as the attendees and viewers around the world tried to make sense of what they just saw. Forty minutes later, Smith received the Best Actor Oscar in front of an audience of boot lickers who couldn't resist giving him a standing ovation. In a bizarre speech, Smith did apologize to the Academy and the nominees, but not the man he assaulted. He then delivered a seemingly endless, self-pitying and self-indulgent, teary-eyed acceptance speech in which he insinuated that his actions were in defense of his wife, much as the character he played in the film was defensive of his family. Talk about taking Method Acting to an extreme...Somewhere along the line, Smith became almost incoherent and began to sound like Brando's Colonel Walter E. Kurtz. The Academy considered having him escorted from the auditorium, as they certainly would have if he were a mere mortal. However, they balked and allowed him to stay and enjoy the moment of his Oscar win. Tonight, top brass are meeting to consider ejecting him from the Academy because he clearly violated their ethics policies. More realistically, they are probably meeting to discuss how to justify not ejecting him from the Academy. Perhaps not coincidentally, Smith has issued a formal written statement of apology to all concerned, including Chris Rock. It reads:
“Violence
in all of its forms is poisonous and destructive. My behavior at last night’s
Academy Awards was unacceptable and inexcusable. Jokes at my expense are a part
of the job, but a joke about Jada’s medical condition was too much for me to
bear and I reacted emotionally.
I would
like to publicly apologize to you, Chris. I was out of line and I was wrong. I
am embarrassed and my actions were not indicative of the man I want to be.
There is no place for violence in a world of love and kindness.
I would
also like to apologize to the Academy, the producers of the show, all the
attendees and everyone watching around the world. I would like to apologize to
the Williams Family and my King Richard Family. I deeply regret that my
behavior has stained what has been an otherwise gorgeous journey for all of us.
I am a
work in progress.
Sincerely,
Will”
Well, better late than never. Believe it or not, there was a lot more to the evening than this surrealistic incident. Here are some random observations:
I thought the premise of having a trio hosting the show-Amy Schumer, Regina Hall and Wanda Sykes- sounded like a fairly ill-conceived idea. I was wrong. It was very ill-conceived.Their entire shtick could have been eliminated without much loss to the ceremonies. Keep in mind, ABC-TV demanded that numerous category of awards be presented prior to the show in a separate ceremony, thus setting off a firestorm by insulting and marginalizing those who were affected. They ended up deceiving the audience by using clever editing techniques to imply the acceptance speeches of these winners were taking place live. Why was all this necessary? Because the network had plunked down $100 million for broadcast rights and wanted to ensure there was plenty of time for the hosts to display their comedic talents. Aside from a few good one-liners, the most impressive aspect of their contributions was the ability of potty-mouthed Amy Schumer to keep things relatively clean throughout the show.
There were erratic elements to the program. Beyonce performed one of the nominated songs but she wasn't in the building, as the Academy had her in an elaborate musical extravaganza that had been pre-taped outside of the auditorium. Isn't it traditional to have the songs all performed in front of the audience? She might just as well have been in London. Then there was the pathetic pandering to youth in the quixotic hope that young people will once again make tuning into the Oscars a tradition. Good luck. Many of the people they are trying to reach don't even feel obliged to own a television. Nevertheless, there were bizarre attempts to appeal to youth including the introduction of a celebrity DJ (!) who made a brief appearance before thankfully seeming to fade into oblivion.
I usually gripe about the annual tribute to artists and industry types who passed
away in the last year because inevitably they leave out plenty of
notable people who deserved inclusion. This year, I didn't even attempt
to make a list of the omissions, preferring to use Turner Classic
Movies' annual memorial video as the gold standard of remembering the
dearly departed. The Academy
obviously left out a number of people because they provided a web site
address you can visit to find tributes to the folks they intentionally
snubbed. Oh, and keep in mind that the only reason they refuse to extend
this segment is because they feel it's more important to have more jokes
and comedy skits during the broadcast. I should point out that even the
memorial presentation was strange. It was shown on a big screen in front of a
large group of people singing and dancing as though we were in a Busby
Berkeley musical. Then, Jamie Lee Curtis stopped the proceedings to pay
special tribute to Betty White and later Billy Murray did the same to
remember his friend, director Ivan Reitman. Two observations: I respect
Betty White as much as anyone, but she was not known for her work in
feature films, as she was a television icon. Also, selecting two
people out of all those who passed away to receive special treatment
made everyone else being honored look like chopped liver.
As for fashion, elegance was happily in style and so was cleavage. Many of the ladies were clad in outfits with plunging necklines that would have looked at home on the cover of one of those bodice-ripper romance novels, but no problem in this corner because it provided some old style high fashion. However, it came as a surprise that the most cleavage to be revealed was courtesy of Timothee Chalamet, who was wearing a glittery woman's jacket by Louis Vuitton- minus anything under it. At least he could rest easy that no other guy was going to show up in the same outfit.
There were the usual unwelcome political jokes but they were thankfully in short supply. Schumer, Sykes and Hall decided to stage a comedy bit involving people testing positive for Covid-19. Considering we're losing 800 people a day in America (the equivalent of a 9/11 or Pearl Harbor attack every three days), it's understandable why the premise fell as flat as a pancake.
The Academy chose to use the telecast to promote it's new $400 million museum in L.A., which has been widely panned for favoring politically correct exhibitions over those that would have mainstream appeal for movie lovers. So how did they use this precious telecast time to induce people to visit the museum? By having Wanda Sykes engage in a comedic tour of the premises that was so poorly done that the segment probably persuaded anyone who intended to visit the place to reconsider their plans.
Reunions were the order of the day: Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman and a bald and bearded John Travolta from Pulp Fiction, Woody Harrelson, Wesley Snipes and Rosie Perez from "White Men Can't Jump" and Francis Ford Coppola, Al Pacino and Robert De Niro to honor "The Godfather". Coppola, newly trimmed-down, looked very healthy and happy but he was the only one who spoke in the brief segment, that also included an uninspired film clip compilation that for some reason was set to a hip-hop song! Coppola made some sentimental remarks but Pacino and De Niro said nothing at all...so what was the point of bringing them to the ceremony only to have them stand there silently? Also, Coppola should have explained that De Niro was there because of his contributions to the franchise through his Oscar-winning performance in "The Godfather Part II", as he did not appear in the original film.
James Bond got plenty of justifiable attention for the series' 60th anniversary, even if the Academy shattered fans' hopes that "No Time to Die" would land a Best Picture nomination and Daniel Craig would be nominated for Best Actor in his swansong appearance as 007. Instead, there was a nice but rather perfunctory film clip segment of highlights from the series. In a weird decision, the segment was introduced by three hunky guys who didn't even look vaguely familiar to me. They apparently are "extreme athletes", whatever that means. Presumably, internet "influencers" were not available.) Surely, given the number of illustrious people associated with the Bond series, someone of some stature could have introduced the segment. Also, the trio of "extreme athletes" name-checked each of the Bond actors- except George Lazenby, who at least was seen in the video compilation. (Can this guy ever catch a break?) Billy Eilish and her brother Finneas gave a fine live performance of their haunting title theme to "No Time to Die", which was the best of the songs nominated. It won, too, thus making this the third Bond song to win in a row. At least the Academy is atoning for not nominating so many great ones from the past.
Troy Kotsur's win for Supporting Actor in "Coda" made for a moving segment, as he is only the second deaf actor to be honored with an award.
Kudos to Kevin Costner who recalled the splendor of seeing "How the West Was Won" in Cinerama at age seven and extolled the majesty of the presentation and impact it had on him.
The inclusion of "fan favorite" films was a pathetic attempt to put salve on the wounds of younger movie fans who constantly gripe about their favorite films (i.e superhero flicks) not being nominated in the major categories. Instead of explaining that the nominees are decided by industry professionals in the respective trades and that the ceremony is not a popularity contest, AMPAS decided to allow fans to vote for their favorite films and scenes from movie history. If the winners were any indication of prevailing taste, we'll be giving Pauly Shore a lifetime achievement Oscar in a few years. For the record, the "winners" of these polls were mostly of relatively recent vintage. If you expected to see the likes of "Schindler's List" or "Citizen Kane", you had to settle for "Army of the Dead". Meanwhile, more precious minutes of air time were wasted on showing meaningless clips from these action movies.
Years ago, the Academy decided to stop telecasting the honorary awards to distinguished industry veterans. Fans were outraged. These were often the highlights of the ceremony, but the Academy wanted more time for dumb comedy bits and the network wanted more time for overpriced sponsor advertisements. There was a time they would at least air snippets of the honorees accepting their awards at a separate ceremony, but even that was asking too much. Thus, we got to see this years honorees: Liv Ullmann, Elaine May and Samuel L. Jackson sitting like mannequins as they were acknowledged for a few seconds. If you wonder why some of us pine away for these awards to be an integral part of the ceremonies once again, just watch this segment from the 1972 telecast when Charles Chaplin returned to America from exile in Europe after he had been blacklisted by Hollywood in the 1950s. We're never likely to see anything like this again because the Academy and ABC simply need to have more kitsch.
The show wrapped up with announcement for Best Picture but things went awry. In an admirable sentimental gesture, Lady Gaga accompanied a wheelchair-bound Liza Minnelli to the stage to commemorate the 50th anniversary of "Cabaret" and to have Minnelli read the title of the winning film. Unfortunately, Minnelli was not up to the task. She was clearly feeble and disoriented. Seeing her in such an undignified light was a painful experience, despite Lady Gaga's good intentions.
Believe it or not, I do not enjoy trashing the Oscars. It's a thankless task to bring this lumbering giant to TV every year and countless talented people work endless hours to achieve that task. Even the worst Oscar ceremonies have plenty of entertainment value and this one was no exception. The worst aspect of it- Will Smith's behavior- was beyond the producer's control as it occurred spontaneously. Although in some bizarre fashion, Smith might well have provided a reason for the Oscars to become "must-see" TV once again.
By now, you know about the bizarre incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock at last night's Oscar Awards ceremony. At first, the audience wondered if it wasn't some kind of Three Stooges-style sight gag but it quickly became apparent that the physical assault was for real. As of now, Chris Rock has chosen not to file a criminal complaint against Smith, who later in the broadcast was awarded the Best Actor Oscar. If Rock changes his mind, he won't have a problem providing evidence. Click here for Hollywood Reporter analysis of the show.
Retro movie lovers know that George C. Scott told the Academy in advance that he wouldn't be on hand to accept the Best Actor Oscar if he won for "Patton". When he did win, Scott was home sleeping, having expressed his distaste for the competitive nature of the awards.The film's producer, Frank McCarthy, accepted the award. Just two years later, Marlon Brando was a "no-show" when he won Best Actor for his career-reviving performance in "The Godfather". Instead, he sent a young Native American woman to express why he was declining the honor. Brando, who was actively involved in social justice causes for Native Americans, was protesting the way they had traditionally been treated in Hollywood films. Unlike Scott, however, Brando gave no advance notice, thus leaving presenters Roger Moore and Liv Ullman somewhat confused about what was going on. For the record, years later Scott gave an interview to Playboy in which he criticized Brando's actions. He said that he felt it was ill-mannered to string the Academy along without telling them up front, as he had, that he intended to not accept the award. As related in Far Out Magazine, there was a third Oscar winner who refused the award: screenwriter Dudley Nichols who had won for John Ford's 1935 classic "The Informer". Nichols had refused the honor due to contentious problems relating to the Academy and industry unions. Click here to read.
Finally,
a high definition Blu-ray disk of Robert Redford’s 1980 masterpiece, Ordinary
People, has been released. To date, the film has existed on home video only
on VHS and DVD, and the new Paramount Presents edition is most welcome.
People
was
Redford’s directorial debut, and at the time audiences and critics expected it
to be good, but they didn’t count on it being that good. It took the
Best Picture prize at the Academy Awards, along with a trophy for Redford for
Direction, one for Alvin Sargent’s Adapted Screenplay (based on Judith Guest’s
wonderful novel), and a most deserved Supporting Actor Oscar for Timothy
Hutton. Granted, Hutton’s character, Conrad Jarrett, is really the protagonist,
i.e., the lead in the movie, so it’s one of those infuriating cases in
which an actor is nominated in the wrong category. (That said, there’s no way
Hutton would have won over Robert De Niro’s blistering once-in-a-lifetime
performance in Raging Bull, so the studio was smart to offer up Hutton
in the Supporting category, where he’d have a better than fighting chance.)
Mary
Tyler Moore also received a nomination for Best Actress, and Judd Hirsch a nod
for Supporting Actor (competing with Hutton). They are both brilliant, too.
Moore plays against type, portraying a woman with a cold heart who has
forgotten—or never knew—how to love, and Hirsch is the psychiatrist with whom
we all would want to spend two sessions a week. Missing from the Oscar awards
tally was Donald Sutherland, who, for this reviewer’s money, provides the
performance of his career. In many ways, he’s the center of the picture. We
slowly see that his stable assuredness is also cracking from the pretense going
in his family. Why Sutherland wasn’t at least nominated is a head-scratcher.
The
story is about a mid-to-upper class family living in the Chicago suburb of Lake
Forest. Everything should be as Beth Jarrett (Moore) believes it is—that their
family is happy and their world is perfect. “Neat and easy,” as her husband,
Calvin (Sutherland), describes how she keeps their lives. But under the
polished veneer, all is not well. Not one bit. The Jarretts recently
experienced a tragedy. The oldest son, Buck, drowned in a boating accident
while out on the water with his younger brother, Conrad (Hutton). Not long
afterwards, Conrad attempted suicide and ended up in a psychiatric hospital for
four months. Now he’s home, and Conrad is having a very difficult time
adjusting. He can’t relate the way he once did to his high school buddies. He
can’t feel as if he’s part of the school swim team, the way he could prior to
the incident. Worst of all, his relationship with his mother has deteriorated. Calvin
can see the conflict between them and does his best to play referee and
understanding father, but this only begins to drive a wedge between him and
Beth. It’s only after Conrad starts seeing a psychiatrist, Dr. Berger (Hirsch),
that the teenager embarks on an excruciating but necessary emotional journey
toward wellness.
The
script is an honest and canny depiction of how families bury truths and put up
facades. Redford’s direction is sensitively nuanced, and the acting all around
is impeccable. This is powerful stuff. Ordinary People also provides one
of the better positive depictions of psychiatry ever put on celluloid, and this
reviewer challenges anyone viewing the film not to have welling eyes during the
scene in which Dr. Berger tells Conrad, “I’m your friend.”
Beyond
the quartet of principle stars, Elizabeth McGovern is striking as a high school
romantic interest for Conrad, a young Adam Baldwin is effective as one of the
teen swim team pals, M. Emmet Walsh has a turn as the clueless swimming coach,
and Dinah Manoff has a short but significant scene as a fellow hospital
patient, now out in the real world like Conrad.
But
the movie belongs to Timothy Hutton. Ordinary People was his first
feature film (he had made only one television movie earlier in the year, and
appeared uncredited, briefly, as a child in a picture in the 1960s.) His Conrad
is a virtuoso piece of acting.
The
Paramount Presents feature is remastered from a new 4K film transfer overseen
by Redford, and it looks crisp and colorful. The only supplements are two new,
short featurettes with interviews with Hutton and author Judith Guest, plus the
theatrical trailer.
Ordinary
People merited
every honor it received. It is an emotional roller-coaster that elevates the
Hollywood family drama to an unprecedented high. Enthusiastically recommended.
Some
personal observations and opinions here. There have been critics over the years
(Siskel and Ebert, for example) who have claimed that Ordinary People “stole”
the Oscar from Raging Bull, which is often cited not only as the “best”
movie of 1980, but of the entire 1980s decade.
I
love Raging Bull and consider it a magnificent example of bravura
filmmaking from Martin Scorsese. It’s slick, gorgeously shot in black and
white, brilliantly edited (by Oscar winner Thelma Schoonmaker), and it contains
not only powerhouse performances by Joe Pesci and Cathy Moriarty in supporting
roles, but the crowning screen appearance of Robert De Niro’s career. There is
no question that De Niro’s Jake LaMotta is one of the most accomplished acting
displays ever.
Yes,
Raging Bull is a great film… and I also find it unpleasant as hell. The
brutality is visceral, and of course, that’s the point. It’s about a man who can’t
control his rage. I may love the film, but I can’t say I enjoy it,
if that makes any sense.
Ordinary
People
is not a happy story, either—that’s true. While it’s without physical violence,
it is an emotionally violent tale; but it is so elegantly rendered with
intelligence and, yes, beauty, that I, personally, am always movedby
it. For me, it tugs at the heartstrings and the tear ducts. And while the fate
of the tale’s family is a tragedy, there is the hint of hope at the end that
all will be well for young Conrad Jarrett. I adore Ordinary People more
every time I see it.
Ordinary People deserved the Oscar for Best Picture in 1980.
Now that Amazon's acquisition of MGM has been finalized, the company isn't letting any grass grow when it comes to exploiting the lucrative James Bond franchise, which they now co-own with Eon Productions. According to Indiewire, Eon and British 72 Films will create and produce an "Amazing Race"-style competition show based on the Bond series. The competitors will travel to locations visited by Agent 007 in a quest to win over $1 million in prize money. The series, titled "007's Road to a Million", will stream on Amazon Prime Video. For details, click here.
A
Star is Born has
been made many times—as four Hollywood feature films, one television movie, and
one Bollywood picture. The 1937 original, produced by David O. Selznick,
directed by William A. Wellman, is often forgotten amongst the more recent
versions, such as the celebrated 2018 remake starring Lady Gaga and Bradley
Cooper.
For
this reviewer’s money, the 1937 A Star is Born is superior to them all.
Granted, it is obviously dated and one must place oneself within the context of
the period in which the movie was released. It is also not a musical, as all
the others are. The first version also deals exclusively with the motion
picture industry. The second one, released in 1954 and starring Judy Garland
and James Mason, did as well… but following adaptations went more into the
music professions of the characters and incorporated Grammy Awards rather than
Oscars. If you want A Star is Born without musical numbers, and there is
ample support that the piece works more realistically without them, then the
1937 version is for you.
The
Oscar winning story, by William A. Wellman and Robert Carson, was the basis of
all the remakes, but here it was the origin, turned into a screenplay by Carson,
Dorothy Parker, and Alan Campbell. The tale is by now familiar ground—a young
woman becomes a star overnight while simultaneously her husband experiences ruin.
A rise and a fall, all in lovely Technicolor!
Esther
Blodgett (Janet Gaynor) is an innocent but bright-eyed farmgirl who is intent
on making her way to Hollywood to become an actress. Against her father and
aunt’s wishes, but encouraged by her grandmother, Esther leaves the nest and
goes to Tinsel Town. She quickly learns that things are not so easy. With the
help of a neighbor, Danny (Andy Devine), who happens to be an assistant
director, she is placed in positions where she can “meet” people. Sure enough, she
encounters a big star, Norman Maine (Fredric March). Unfortunately, Norman’s
glory days seem to be behind him as the bottle has dictated a gradual descent in
popularity. Nevertheless, Norman is struck by Esther and finagles a screen test
for her with his producer, Oliver Niles (Adolphe Menjou). Oliver immediately
sees Esther’s potential, gives her the more marketable name of “Vicki Lester,” and
she is off and running. Promising to quit drinking, Norman asks Esther to marry
him, and she accepts. But as Esther/Vicki becomes more successful, Norman falls
off the wagon and their relationship goes off the rails.
There
is one scene that exists in all the versions of A Star is Born, and that
is when the husband embarrasses his wife during her moment of triumph at an
awards ceremony—here the event is the Oscars, as it is in the 1954 edition. The
moment is powerful and excruciating, and it is one of the reasons both Gaynor
and March were nominated for Best Actor and Actress for the film.
Producer
Selznick was known for overseeing lavish, gorgeous productions, and A Star
is Born fits the bill. Beautifully photographed in that distinctive, vivid
1930s Technicolor by W. Howard Greene (who received an Honorary Oscar for his
achievement), the picture displays the glitz and glamour of that bygone,
mythical Hollywood era. Director Wellman was nominated for his efforts, and the
movie was up for Best Picture (the category was called Best Production then).
Gaynor
is especially good, and March is always brilliant. The supporting cast—Menjou,
Devine, May Robson, Lionel Stander, and Edgar Kennedy—is stellar.
The
picture, while assuredly a drama that takes a hard look at the alcoholism
destroying Maine, is also striking for the amount of humor it contains. There
are many Hollywood in-jokes, such as when Gaynor impersonates several leading
actresses of the day when she is waitressing at a star-studded party. Stander,
Devine, and Kennedy, known for their comedic turns, also provide much of the
levity.
The
Warner Archive Blu-ray is a new, meticulous 4K restoration from the original
nitrate Technicolor camera negative, and it looks absolutely fantastic. In
keeping with Warner disks that employ “A Night at the Movies” supplements, this
one contains a treasure trove of extras. The 1938 cartoon, “A Star is Hatched,”
is one of those Looney Tunes that features Hollywood star caricatures, and it’s
hilarious. A 1937 comic short featuring Joe Palooka and Shemp Howard, “Taking
the Count,” is amusing, and two other vintage shorts—“Mal Hallett and His
Orchestra” and “Alibi Mark”—are also entertaining and indicative of the type of
fare one would see at the theater in those days. The disk also incudes two
different Lux Radio Theater broadcasts of the story—one from 1937 featuring
Janet Gaynor and Robert Montgomery, and one from 1952 starring Judy Garland and
Walter Pidgeon. The theatrical trailer rounds out the package.
This
new region-free Blu-ray edition from Warner Archive is a must for fans of any version
of A Star is Born. The 1937 original, though, is and will always be
grand entertainment. Highly recommended.
(NOTE:
Much of this review is repeated from an earlier Cinema Retro review of a
previous Blu-ray release.)
In
the world of the Jewish Conservative Orthodox community, a divorce is truly
final only when the husband presents his wife with a “get”—a document in Hebrew
that grants the woman her freedom to be with other men. Likewise, the wife must
accept the get before the man can re-marry, too.
This
is the crux of the story behind Hester
Street, an independent art-house film that appeared in 1975, written and
directed by Joan Micklin Silver. Starring Carol Kane, who was nominated for
Best Actress for her performance as Gitl, a newly arrived immigrant to New York
City in 1896, and Steven Keats as her husband Yankl, who, in an attempt to
assimilate, in public goes by the name “Jake.” Jake has been in America for a
while and isn’t looking forward to the arrival of his wife and son from Europe,
for he has begun an affair with a wealthy, assimilated actress in the Yiddish
theatre named Mamie. When the very traditional Gitl arrives with her son, the
marriage disintegrates.
Luckily,
Gitl meets Bernstein, an Orthodox man who is much more suited for her
requirements, seeing that Jake has become something of a capitalist cad.
Therefore, she needs a “get” from Jake so that both husband and wife can
divorce and go their separate ways. That’s when Mamie’s money comes into play.
Silver
beautifully rendered this period drama on a miniscule budget. Location shooting
took place in and around New York’s lower east side, where much of the flavor
of the late 19th Century Jewish Orthodox community is still pretty much the
same. Replace the cars with horses and buggies, get the correct vintage
costumes, and you’re more than halfway there. The dialogue is mostly in Yiddish
(with English subtitles), thus making it an American foreign language film—an
oddity in 1975, to be sure (although Coppola’s The Godfather Part II appeared a year earlier with a great amount
of its dialogue spoken in Sicilian).
Keats
plays Jake as a rake and a rascal, but our perception of him is not that of a
villain. In many ways, he is the generic immigrant who came to America and
sincerely tried to assimilate, become “American,” and leave the Old Country
traditions behind. His fault is that he dreams of making big money in the States and this becomes his all-consuming desire,
forgetting that he has a wife and son. Kane’s character and spot-on portrayal
not only illustrates the role of females in the Orthodox community, but in many
ways is a commentary on the women’s liberation movement of the 1970s.
Hester Street is a terrific little
film that went out of print on DVD years ago and became a collector’s item on
the resale market until a Blu-ray release appeared in 2015. With that also now
out of print, Cohen Media Group has issued a welcome new edition in a 4K
restoration. Filmed in black and white by Kenneth Van Sickle, the picture is
grainy and flat—much like the early silent cinema of the that era!—which
actually is quite appropriate for the movie’s setting. That said, the new
restoration considerably sharpens the images and the display is the best seen
since the movie’s 1975 theatrical release. The feature comes with an archival
audio commentary with director Silver and producer Raphael D. Silver.
Also
new to this release is supplementary material not present on the previous
Blu-ray. Approximately eight minutes of an alternate opening sequence, with
commentary by Daniel Kremer (author of an upcoming book about Silver and her
work), is an interesting find. There are two relatively recent video
conversations with director Silver and film historian Shonni Enelow about the
making of Hester Street and Silver’s career as a filmmaker (Silver died
in 2020). There are also vintage interviews with Carol Kane, Doris Roberts, and
both Joan and Raphael Silver, likely ported over from the old DVD release. The restoration
trailer rounds out the package.
Hester Street is an excellent synagogue
discussion-group item for American Jews who want to explore the immigration
scene and the topics of tradition and assimilation; but it is also a good
educational piece for non-Jews who want to learn a little bit about New York
history and the Jewish Orthodox religion. Recommended.
Of
all the actors to emerge in the 1970s, there are few, if any, as captivating,
unpredictable and exciting as James Woods. He began the decade, and his on
screen career for that matter, for legendary director Elia Kazan in The
Visitors (1972), and in the next few years established himself as one of
American film's most promising young performers. He turned up as villains in
such classic TV shows as Kojak and Streets of San Francisco, but he also
appeared in some major 70s movies too, such as 1973's The Way We Were, Arthur
Penn's Night Movies (1975) and The Gambler (1975). But it was his performance
in The Onion Field (1979) which really signalled his arrival, as the
sociopathic cop killer Greg Powell. The film, based on Joseph Wambaugh's best-selling
non-fiction book, was a critical smash and earned Woods his first wave of
acclaim. It was a stunning performance, equally charismatic and frightening,
and it brought in a new face for cinema, an actor so convincing in his
intensity that you would have been scared of him had you met him in the street.
Of
course, it was really only the beginning. Into the next decade he proved
himself to be one of American cinema's most reliable, quirky, and appealing
character actors, appearing in such classics as Eyewitness (1981), David
Cronenberg's Videodrome (1983), Sergio Leone's masterpiece Once Upon a Time in
America (1984), Against All Odds (1984), Oliver Stone's Salvador (1986), for
which he received his first Oscar nomination, Best Seller (1987), Cop (1988)
and True Believer (1989). It was one of the most remarkable runs for any actor
of the era.
Woods
went on to appear in more than his fair share of stand outs in the following
decades, in such films as Chaplin (1991), The Hard Way (1992), The Specialist
(1994), Martin Scorsese's Casino (1995), for Oliver Stone again in both Nixon
(1995) and Any Given Sunday (1999), in Sofia Coppola's Virgin Suicides (1999)
and John Carpenter's Vampires (1998). His filmography reveals an almost
faultless body of work.
I
first had the idea to write a book about Woods' filmography in May 2021. I had
interviewed James in 2020 for a book I had written about Once Upon a Time in
America and, somewhat unexpectedly, we had stayed in touch. After I put
together a retrospective article for a vintage film magazine I sometimes put
out (Scenes), I presented the idea of a full book. He said he was OK with that,
but I presumed I would just write it and that would be it. No, he was happy to
do interviews- and we certainly did. For months in fact, we would speak every
week for hours on end, going over his many classics, from his early career days
in the 1970s, through his iconic films, right up to the most recent work. I got
the chance to interview the likes of Sharon Stone, Debbie Harry, Oliver Stone
and Jim Belushi, not to mention having Dolly Parton herself write the foreword
(she and Woods made a film together, Straight Talk). However, for the most part
the book is a journey through the career of James Woods, with Woods himself
acting as a sort of tour guide through his canon, and in the process, a part of
film history itself; beginning in the early Seventies with his experiences with
such directors as Sydney Pollack, Kazan, Harold Becker and others, through his
turbulent but rewarding work with Oliver Stone and numerous other legendary
filmmakers.
Woods
said to me at one point that the book was turning into a conversation between
two film lovers, one of whom just happened to be James Woods. And that, I
believe, sums it up rather well. This is a film lover's book, and it has the
distinction of having its subject as a kind of co-author. The resulting book,
The Films of James Woods, is a journey through a film career, yes, but it is
also a relaxed, freewheeling chat between two men, one in the UK, one in America,
and one who just happens to be a cinema legend. There is no gossip in the book,
no tell-all tattle, but a lot of movie talk. A hell of a lot, in fact.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
First 4K Ultra HD in the Paramount Presents Line Debuts May 17, 2022 with New and Legacy Bonus Content
One
of the greatest Westerns in cinematic history arrives for the first
time ever on 4K Ultra HD with High Dynamic Range (HDR) as part of the
Paramount Presents line when THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE debuts May 17, 2022 from Paramount Home Entertainment.
Four-time Academy Award®-winning*
director John Ford brought together an all-star cast for what is
considered by many critics to be a quintessential—and yet
pioneering—Western late in his storied career. Starring James Stewart
and John Wayne (together for the first time), alongside Vera Miles, Lee
Marvin, John Carradine and Lee Van Cleef, THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE
tells the engrossing story of a senator (Stewart), his old friend
(Wayne), and a despicable outlaw called Liberty Valance (Marvin).
THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCEwas
selected in 2007 for preservation in the United States National Film
Registry by the Library of Congress for being "culturally, historically,
or aesthetically significant.” Adapted from a short story by Dorothy
M. Johnson, the screenplay by James Warner Bellah and Willis Goldbeck
gave us the often-quoted line “When the legend becomes fact, print the
legend.”
Meticulously remastered in stunning 4K Ultra HD for its 60th anniversary this year, THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE
is presented in collectible packaging featuring a foldout image of the
film’s original theatrical poster and an interior spread with key movie
moments. The release also includes access to a Digital copy of the film
and a Blu-ray Disc™ with a new Filmmaker Focus featuring film historian
Leonard Maltin discussing John Ford, the film, and its legacy. The
Blu-ray™ also includes legacy bonus content as detailed below:
·Filmmaker Focus - Leonard Maltin on The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance—NEW!
Feature commentary
by filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich, along with his archival recordings with
John Ford and James Stewart
Selected scene commentary
with introduction by Dan Ford, along with his archival recordings with
John Ford, James Stewart and Lee
Marvin
The Size Of Legends, The Soul Of Myth
Chapter 1: Changing Of The Guard
Chapter 2: The Irascible Poet
Chapter 3: The Hero Doesn't Win, The Winner Isn't Heroic
Chapter 4: Most Things Happen By Accident
Chapter 5: The Great Protector
Chapter 6: Spotlight - Lee Marvin
Chapter 7: Print The Legend
Original Theatrical Trailer
About Paramount Presents
This
collectible line spans celebrated classics to film-lover favorites,
each from the studio’s renowned library. Every Paramount Presents
release features never-before-seen bonus content and exclusive
collectible packaging. Additional titles available in the Paramount
Presents collection on Blu-ray include: Fatal Attraction, King Creole, To Catch a Thief, Flashdance, Days of Thunder, Pretty In Pink, Airplane!, Ghost, Roman Holiday, The Haunting, The Golden Child, Trading Places, The Court Jester, Love Story, Elizabethtown, The Greatest Show on Earth, Mommie Dearest,Last Train From Gun Hill, 48 HRS., Another 48 HRS., Almost Famous, A Place in the Sun, Nashville, Bugsy Malone, Breakdown,The Sheik, Vanilla Sky, Ragtime, Harold and Maude and Ordinary People.
Warner Archive has released a Blu-ray edition of the 1966 thriller Eye of the Devil. The MGM movie, directed by J. Lee Thompson, is one of the last major B&W studio releases. The film had a troubled production history. The female lead had been Kim Novak, but when she was injured during filming, Deborah Kerr took over and had to reshoot all of her scenes - a costly and troublesome process. However, this meant that Kerr was reunited with her Separate Tables co-star David Niven (the pair would be seen on screen again the following year in Casino Royale). Eye of the Devil is an atmospheric thriller with supernatural overtones. Niven plays the heir to a massive French vineyard, though he keeps his distance from the massive rural chateau, preferring to be with wife Kerr and their two young children in an urban setting. An emissary from the vineyard summons him back to the chateau, presumably because the harvest is failing, but Niven's emotional turmoil indicates that there are other factors dictating why he is reluctant to return. When Kerr and the children show up, things deteriorate quickly. Kerr finds the locals to be frightened and unfriendly. Inside the chateau, the staff and Niven appear to be collaborating on hiding information from her. Additionally, a strange brother and sister team (Sharon Tate in her first major role and David Hemmings) are an omnipresent and threatening presence. Kerr ultimate suspects that the presence of a local priest (Donald Pleasence) is inciting people to dabble in witchcraft and the black mass. All of this leads to the prequisite sequences in which a helpless woman is tempted to poke about dark castle corridors and crypts to find the facts.
The film is disturbing from minute one, largely because it is devoid of any humor whatsoever. Every minute exudes a sense of menace. The cinematography adds greatly to the tension and the cast is highly watchable, even if no one attempts to hide their full-throated British accents while playing French characters. (The exteriors were shot in France, the interiors were filmed at MGM's Borehamwood Studios). The movie is consistently engrossing, even if it never reaches the level one might expect, given the sterling cast. Tate makes a significant visual impression, but it should be noted that her immaculate British accent was dubbed. The new region-free Blu-ray release does justice to the crisp B&W photography with a fine transfer. One quibble: Turner Classic Movies often shows an original production featurette from the film. One wishes it was included with this release, which features only the trailer as a supplement. However, spending any time with Niven and Kerr is time well-spent.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE
Cinema
Retro has received the following press release from Paramount:
Paramount Pictures Celebrates the 50th Anniversary of Francis Ford Coppala's Cinematic Masterpiece
HOLLYWOOD,
Calif. – March 1, 2022 — In celebration of the 50th anniversary of
Francis Ford Coppola’s Academy Award®-winning* masterworkThe Godfather, Paramount Pictures will be releasing all three films
in the epic trilogy on 4K Ultra HD for the first time ever on March 22, 2022,
with all the films having been meticulously restored under the direction of
Coppola.
“I
am very proud of The Godfather, which certainly defined the first third
of my creative life,” said Francis Ford Coppola. “With this 50th
anniversary tribute, I’m especially proud Mario Puzo’s THE GODFATHER, Coda:
The Death of Michael Corleone is included, as it captures Mario and my original
vision in definitively concluding our epic trilogy. It’s also gratifying to
celebrate this milestone with Paramount alongside the wonderful fans who’ve
loved it for decades, younger generations who still find it relevant today, and
those who will discover it for the first time.”
Coppola’s
masterful film adaptation of Mario Puzo’s novel chronicles the rise and fall of
the Corleone family and the film trilogy is rightfully viewed as one of the
greatest in cinematic history. In preparation for the 50th
anniversary of the first film’s original release on March 24, 1972, Paramount
and Coppola’s production company American Zoetrope undertook a painstaking
restoration of all three films over the course of three years. Every
effort was made to create the finest possible presentation for today’s
audiences who can watch the films using technology that has advanced
dramatically since 2007 when the last restoration was completed by eminent film
historian and preservationist Robert Harris. Using that work as a blueprint,
the team spent thousands of hours to ensure that every frame was evaluated to
create the most pristine presentation while remaining true to the original look
and feel of the films.
The
monumental effort included the following:
Over
300 cartons of film were scrutinized to find the best possible resolution
for every frame of all three films.
Over
4,000 hours were spent repairing film stains, tears, and other anomalies
in the negatives.
Over
1,000 hours were spent on rigorous color correction to ensure the high
dynamic range tools were respectful of the original vision of Coppola and
cinematographer Gordon Willis.
In
addition to the 5.1 audio approved by Walter Murch in 2007, the original
mono tracks on The Godfather and The Godfather: Part II have been restored.
All
work was overseen by Coppola.
“We
felt privileged to restore these films and a little in awe every day we worked
on them,” said Andrea Kalas, senior vice president, Paramount Archives.
“We were able to witness first-hand how the brilliant cinematography, score,
production design, costume design, editing, performances, and, of course,
screenwriting and direction became famously more than the sum of their
parts. It was our commitment to honor all of the filmmakers’ exceptional
work.”
Newly
restored and remastered in Dolby Vision, all three films in the landmark
trilogy will be released together with HDR-10 on 4K Ultra HD Digital and 4K
Ultra HD Blu-ray™ for the first time ever. The 4K Ultra HD
Blu-ray set will include The Godfather, The Godfather: Part II,
and Coppola’s recently re-edited version of the final film, Mario Puzo’s THE
GODFATHER, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. The disc set includes
legacy commentaries by Coppola, as well as access to Digital copies of The
Godfather, The Godfather: Part II and Mario Puzo’s THE GODFATHER, Coda:
The Death of Michael Corleone.
In
addition to the widely available 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray set, a 4K Ultra HD Limited
Collector’s Edition will also be released in deluxe packaging and includes a
hardcover coffee table book featuring stunning photographs, as well as portrait
art prints on archival paper. Both 4K Ultra HD sets include new bonus
content including an introduction to The Godfather by Coppola, a
featurette about the preservation process, photos by acclaimed photographer
Steve Schapiro, home movie footage, and comparisons of the new restoration to
earlier versions of the films. A full list of new and legacy bonus
content follows:
NEW
BONUS CONTENT:
·
Introduction to The Godfather by Francis Ford Coppola
·
Full Circle: Preserving The Godfather—Paramount Pictures
archivists detail the incredible restoration process with archival footage
showing the evolution of the film through various home entertainment
incarnations as picture and audio technologies make quantum leaps over the
decades.
·
Capturing the Corleones: Through the Lens of Photographer Steve Schapiro—
In this reflective and frank discussion, special photographer Steve Schapiro
shares his unique perspective and cherished memories as a witness to the making
of this seminal film. Commentary on curated archival images makes for a
fascinating, never-before-seen addition to the production’s history.
·
The Godfather: Home Movies— An assortment of 8mm home movie
footage shot in 1971 offers a candid glimpse into the production of The
Godfather. Shot on location at the Norton family estate on Staten
Island’s Emerson Hill, this is the first time it’s been made available to the
public.
·
Restoration Comparisons— Before and after highlights showcase extensive
picture quality improvements to The Godfather.
LEGACY
BONUS CONTENT:
The Masterpiece
That Almost Wasn’t
Godfather World
Emulsional
Rescue—Revealing The Godfather
…when the
shooting stopped
The Godfather on the Red Carpet
Four Short Films
on The Godfather
oThe
Godfather vs. The Godfather: Part II
oCannoli
oRiffing
on the Riffing
oClemenza
·The
Family Tree
·Crime
Organization Chart
·Connie
and Carlo’s Wedding Album
·2008
Credits
·Behind
the Scenes
oA Look
Inside
oOn
Location
oFrancis
Ford Coppola’s Notebook
oMusic
of The Godfather
§Nino
Rota
§Carmine
Coppola
oCoppola
& Puzo on Screenwriting
oGordon
Willis on Cinematography
oStoryboards
– The Godfather: Part II
oStoryboards
– The Godfather: Part III
oThe
Godfather Behind the Scenes 1971
·Additional
Scenes
·Galleries
·Trailers
·Acclaim
& Response
·Additional
Material
·The
Filmmakers
·The
Godfather: Part III—newly
remastered and restored versions of the original theatrical cut and Coppola’s
1991 cut (note: these are exclusive to the 4K Ultra HD Collections)
Newly
restored and remastered versions of The Godfather, The Godfather: Part II, and
Mario Puzo’s THE GODFATHER, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone will
also be available together on Blu-ray™ with access to Digital copies
and the new and legacy bonus content detailed above.
Few actors had the screen and stage presence of Yul Brynner. There
never was an actor quite like him and there hasn't been since. Like most
thespians, Brynner had his share of good movies as well as those that
fell considerably short of their potential. Nevertheless, the man never
gave a false performance. He came across as supremely self-confidant
even when he must have suspected the material he was given proved to be
far below his considerable talents. Much of his self-confidence seemed
to stem from an inflated ego. Robert Vaughn once told me that when
Brynner arrived on the set of "The Magnificent Seven" in Mexico, he was
still firmly in the King of Siam mode that had seen him win an Oscar.
Vaughn said he carried himself as though he were real life royalty at
all times. You didn't chat with him casually. Rather, he would grant you
an audience. As Brynner's stature as a top boxoffice attraction began
to wane, he returned over and over again to his signature role in stage
productions of "The King and I" and found his mojo and star power were
still very much intact when it came to touring in front of live
audiences. His exotic look and manner of speaking were invariably
intoxicating. Given Brynner's enduring legacy as a Hollywood icon it's
rather surprising to remember that he had very few major hits. "The King
and I" in 1956 was his star-making vehicle and his role in "The Ten
Commandments", released the same year, helped build on his success.
However, with the exception of the surprise success of "The Magnificent
Seven" in 1960, Brynner proved to be more of a reliable on screen
attraction than a powerhouse draw in the way that John Wayne, Cary Grant
and Burt Lancaster were regarded. For most of Brynner's screen career,
he top-lined in major studio releases that were relatively modest in
terms of production budgets. Since this was during an era in which a
decent profit for a film made it a success, Brynner remained popular for
many years. By the 1970s, however, his clout had diminished
considerably. He would have only one memorable big screen success during
the decade- his brilliant appearance as the murderous robot in
"Westworld" (1974). He would concentrate primarily on stage work until
his death in 1985.
"Invitation to a Gunfighter" is the kind of mid-range vehicle that
defined most of Brynner's career in Hollywood. Released in 1964 by
Stanley Kramer's production company, the film is a perfect showcase for
Brynner in that it lacked any rival star power and afforded him a
smorgasbord of scene-stealing opportunities. The story opens in the
wake of the Confederate surrender that marked the end of the Civil War.
Matt Weaver (George Segal), a veteran of the Confederate army, is making
an arduous journey home to his Texas ranch on foot through the desert.
When the exhausted man finally reaches the small town he calls home, he
gets a rude welcome. His ranch is now occupied by another man who claims
he bought the deed from the township. Matt soon learns that he is
despised by the locals because he is the only man to have served in the Southern army. He is notified by the town's political kingpin, Sam
Brewster (Pat Hingle), that a technicality has been used to seize
ownership of his ranch. He also advises him to move on out of town
because he is no longer welcome there. Matt, however, is not about to be
cheated. He confronts the new owner of his house and is forced to shoot
him dead in self-defense. Brewster manipulates the facts and accuses
Matt of being a murderer. Matt takes possession of his ranch and uses
firepower to hold off the townspeople. He is surreptitiously visited by
his former lover Ruth (Janice Rule), who admits that she could no longer
bear waiting for him to return from the war. She reluctantly married
Crane Adams (Clifford David), a local Union war veteran who lost an arm
in the conflict. Since then, Crane has become an alcoholic with a
violent temper and his relationship to Ruth has devolved into a loveless
marriage of convenience.
Unable to lure Matt from his besieged homestead, Brewster takes the
step of announcing to the town council that he will hire a gunslinger to
kill him. Coincidentally, a man with the exotic name of Jules Gaspard
d'Estaing overhears the offer. He is just passing through on a
stagecoach ride but is immediately intrigued. d'Estaing convinces
Brewster that he is a master gunfighter and demonstrates his prowess
with a pistol. Brewster hires him on the spot but d'Estaing is in no
hurry to carry out the mission. Instead, he sees the townspeople for
what they are: cowardly hypocrites and delights in humiliating Brewster
in front of them. d'Estaing is an intimidating presence to the
townspeople. They can't pinpoint his ethnicity and know nothing of his
background. He dresses immaculately, speaks fluent French, plays the
harpsichord and chain smokes Churchill cigars (though I wonder what
they called them in this era before Churchill was born.) Ever
provocative to his hosts, he stirs the pot even further by moving into
the house of Crane and Ruth Adams. Predictably, it isn't long before
Ruth is entranced by this larger-than-life man of mystery who dresses
like a dandy and is highly cultured- the very opposite of her own
husband and Matt. Tensions rise as Crane correctly suspects a romance
may be brewing. d'Estaing insists he intends to carry out his mission to
kill Matt, despite Ruth's protests, but he later makes it clear to her
that he intends to manipulate the situation so that Matt is spared and
Brewster is dragged down in disgrace.
The film, directed with admirable if unremarkable competence by
Richard Wilson, is a slow-moving, talky affair that leads to some
intelligent discussions about race relations and the horrors of bigotry.
(This was, after all, a production financed by Stanley Kramer, who
never heeded the old adage, "Leave the messages to Western Union!").
What saves the movie from devolving into a completely pedantic affair is
the charisma of Yul Brynner. It also helps that he is playing an
interesting character with a mysterious background and the revelations
he makes to Ruth about his life only make him even more intriguing. This
is a "thinking man's" western that touches on social issues as well as
the desperate plight of women in the old West, when their survival often
saw them entering dreadful marriages simply for financial security and
protection. Brynner gets fine support from Janice Rule and rising star
George Segal and Pat Hingle plays the town's pompous boss with
appropriate, sneering superficial charm.
"Invitation to a Gunfighter" is by no means a classic but it does
afford viewers to spend some time with Yul Brynner and that is always
time well-spent.
The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER KINO LORBER BLU-RAY FROM AMAZON
Cinema Retro continues covering films that are not currently available on home video in the U.S. or U.K.
BY BRIAN HANNAN
"Sanctuary" is an
overheated melodrama that stands as a classic example of Hollywood’s offensive
attitudes to women. Nobel prize-winning author William Faulkner could hardly
blame the movies for sensationalising his misogynistic source material since,
if anything, the movie took a softer line.The story is told primarily in flashback as headstrong southern belle
Temple Drake (Lee Remick) attempts to mitigate the death sentence passed on her
maid Nancy (Odetta). Given that such appeals are directed at Drake’s Governor
father (Howard St John), and that the maid has been condemned for murdering
Drake’s infant child, that’s a whole lot of story to swallow.
Worse is
to follow. Drake takes up with Prohibition bootlegger Candy Man (Yves Montand)
after being raped by him and thereafter appears happy to live with him in a New
Orleans brothel - the “sanctuary,” no irony intended, of the title - despite
him slapping her around. The film steers clear of turning her into the
prostitute of the original book, but pretty much sets up the notion that high
class women will fall for a low-class tough guy whose virility is demonstrated
by his brutality. In other words a “real man” rather than the dilettantes she
has previously rejected.
After the
Candy Man dies, Drake returns home and marries wealthy suitor Gowan Stevens
(Bradford Dillman) who blames himself, rightly, for Drake falling into the
clutches of the gangster in the first place. But a past threatening to engulf
her precipitates the infanticide.
Faulkner
was a Hollywood insider, adapting Sanctuary for The Story of Temple Drake
(1933) and earning high praise for his work on Bogart vehicle To Have and
Have Not (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946). The success of The
Tarnished Angels (1957) starring Rock Hudson, The Long, Hot Summer
(1958) with Paul Newman and The Sound and the Fury (1959) headlined by
Yul Brynner had sent his cachet rocketing. But all three were directed by
Americans – Douglas Sirk and Martin Ritt – who had a distinctive visual style
and an ear for what made melodrama work.
Sanctuary had been handed to British
director Tony Richardson (Look Back in Anger, 1959) and he didn’t quite
understand how to make the best of the difficult project. So while Lee Remick
manages to suggest both strength and fragility, and makes her character’s
wanton despair believable, Yves Montand is miscast and Bradford Dillman fails
to convince even though portraying a weak character. Too many of the smaller
roles appear as cliches. And it’s hard to believe the maid’s motivation in
turning murderer.
What was
acceptable steamy melodrama in the 1930s fails to click three decades on.
Faulkner’s thesis that high-falutin’ women want a man to master them and
furthermore will fall in love with their rapist seems to lack any understanding
of the female mind and will not appeal to the modern sensibility any more than
it did on release. Lee Remick is what holds the picture together, in part
because she plays so well the role of a woman embracing degradation, and
refusing – no matter how insane the idea appears – to let go of the man she
believes is the love of her life. It’s not Fifty Shades of Grey, but
it’s not that far off that kind of fantasy figure, and given the success of
that book, it’s entirely possible there is a market for what Faulkner has to
peddle.
Despite my criticisms of "Sanctuary", it still
deserves to be available on home video for retro movie lovers to form
their own opinions.
(Although "Sanctuary" is not available on home video, it can be streamed as a public domain title on YouTube.)
It isn't often that you might expect to read the word "delightful" in
a review of a Charles Bronson movie but "From Noon Till Three" is just
that: a delightful 1976 send-up of the traditional Western genre. In
fact it seems like this was the year in which numerous revisionist
Westerns were released. They included "Buffalo Bill and the Indians",
"The Outlaw Josey Wales", "The Missouri Breaks" and John Wayne's final
film, "The Shootist". By 1976 Charles Bronson was an established screen
presence for about two decades.He was a familiar face to American
movie-goers who liked his work as a supporting actor but it was the
European market that elevated him to star status. Bronson finally began
to get top-billing in Westerns and action films and became reasonably
popular in America. But it was the 1974 release of his smash hit "Death
Wish" that saw him soar to the level of superstar. The film was a mixed
blessing. Bronson made some good films in the following years but
eventually succumbed to the lure of a quick pay check, cranking out
low-end urban crime movies that were often as absurd as they were
over-the-top. "From Noon Till Three" allows Bronson and his real life
wife and frequent co-star Jill Ireland a rare opportunity to flex their
comedic muscles, which they do impressively.
Bronson plays Graham Dorsey, a member of small time gang of bandits
who are riding into a one-horse town to rob the bank. The film's opening
is quite eerie as the bandits become unnerved when they discover there
isn't a single living soul anywhere in the town. This sets in motion a
"Twilight Zone"-like beginning that is quickly explained as a nightmare
Dorsey is suffering, but is nonetheless quite effective for grabbing
the viewer's attention. When the gang nears the actual town, Dorsey's
horse goes lame and must be shot. He rides double with another bandit
until they reach the opulent mansion house of Amanda (Jill Irleand), an
attractive widow who resides in the countryside with only a maid and
servant as companions. When the bandits arrive on her doorstep, she is
home alone and is understandably filled with anxiety being in the
company of the men, who demand she give them a horse. She lies and says
she doesn't have one- and Dorsey validates her story, opting to stay
behind at the house while the robbery takes place. He finds Amanda very
desirable but none-the-less acts like a gentleman- though as her tough
facade fades, she becomes susceptible to his charm. Dorsey claims he
suffers from incurable impotence, a ploy that works when Amanda finally
volunteers to "cure" him. This results in the pair spending several
heavenly hours together enjoying sexual adventures and falling in love.
When word reaches Amanda that Dorsey's fellow bandits have been
captured, she implores him to try to save them from hanging. Dorsey
pretends to ride to their rescue, but instead bushwhacks a traveling con
man and adopts his identity. The other man is mistaken for Dorsey and
shot dead by a posse. Dorsey is ironically arrested because the man he
is impersonating is also wanted by the law. Got all that? Things get
really complicated when Dorsey spends a year in prison, studying
(ironically) how to be a banker. He intends to return to Amanda and live
their dream of moving to Boston, where he can get a job as a bank
manager. When he returns to the woman he has been obsessing over for the
last year, the reception he receives from her is something less than
welcoming. Seems that since she believed Dorsey was dead, she set about
memorializing him in a memoir titled "From Noon Till Three", a
scandalous record of the hours in which they made love and fell in love.
In the book, Amanda relates tall tales about Dorsey's crime exploits
that he had previously bragged about...and she takes a bit of
intentional creative license by describing him as an elegant, dashing
man when, in fact, he looks like what he is: a saddle tramp. To say much
more would spoil the fun. Suffice it to say that the film really kicks
into gear when Dorsey discovers that Amanda's memoir has become an
international sensation and she is idolized worldwide by both men and
women. She doesn't have much incentive to now admit that Dorsey is not
only alive and well but also falls considerable short of the handsome
hunk the world has come to imagine.
"From Noon Till Three" is stylishly directed by Frank D. Gilroy and its
based upon his novel of the same name. Gilroy had the magic touch in
terms of bringing out the best in both Charles Bronson and Jill Ireland,
both of whom rarely had an opportunity to demonstrate their flair for
light comedy and they are both terrific. Gilroy, who also penned the
screenplay, took advantage of a new era of cynicism in major films and
"From Noon Till Three" proved to be far ahead of its time in predicting
how the general public can be bamboozled into believing urban legends if
they are marketed creatively enough. (Coincidentally, Paddy Chayefsky's
"Network", released the same year, took an equally cynical view of the
current day TV news industry.) The movie is a wealth of small
pleasures and unexpected plot turns and boasts a fine score by Elmer
Bernstein and impressive camerawork by Lucien Ballard, not to mention an
impressive mansion house set by Robert Clatworthy. I don't want to
overstate the merits of the film but I do want to point out that even if
you're not a Bronson fan you should give this one a try.
"From Noon Till Three" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.
Click here to order Kino Lorber DVD edition from Amazon
Peter Cushing, André
Morell, Yvonne Mitchell, Donald Pleasence in a new restoration of
Nigel Kneale’s 1954
adaptation of the George Orwell classic
Cinema Retro has received the following press release from the BFI:
BFI
Blu-ray/DVD, iTunes and Amazon Prime release on 11 April 2022
George Orwell’s enduring dystopian
masterpiece is brought vividly to life in this celebrated BBC production.
Adapted by Nigel Kneale (The Quatermass Experiment), NINETEEN
EIGHTY-FOUR (directed byRudolf Cartier) broke new ground for
television drama when first broadcast in 1954. On 11 April, tying in with a
Nigel Kneale season at BFI Southbank, the BFI brings this classic production to
Blu-ray and DVD in a Dual Format Edition, and to DTO via iTunes and Amazon
Prime. Experience Orwell’s haunting vision of a society dominated by relentless
tyranny and the subversion of truth – a world in which Big Brother is always
watching you.
Featuring
a stunning central performance from Peter Cushing (The Curse of
Frankenstein, Star Wars) as the doomed Winston Smith, this small-screen
landmark has been newly restored by the BFI using original film materials from
the BBC Archive and the BFI National Archive. Numerous extras include a newly
recorded audio commentary by television historian Jon Dear, host of Nigel
Kneale podcast Bergcast, with Toby Hadoke and Andy Murray, and a newly
filmed conversation between the BFI’s Dick Fiddy and historian Oliver Wake, on
the myths that have grown up around the production in the last 60-odd years.
NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR is released
alongside the BFI Southbank centenary celebration of screenwriter Nigel
Kneale. A season, NIGHTMARES AND DAYDREAMS, runs throughout April in
partnership with Picturehouse to commemorate Kneale’s contribution to British
television. His adult drama and tense thrillers with a sci-fi or horror slant
went on to influence the likes of John Carpenter, Stephen King and Ben
Wheatley. Often enthralling and terrifying, Kneale’s visionary work showing on
the big screen includes the restored version of NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR. The
screening, on Monday 4 April at 6.30pm in NFT1 will be followed by a
panel discussion. Other titles screening in the season include FIRST MEN IN THE
MOON, QUARTERMASS AND THE PIT, THE YEAR OF THE SEX OLYMPICS and THE WOMAN IN
BLACK and there will be a special table reading of OUT OF THE UNKNOWN: THE
CHOPPER, as part of the BFI’s Missing Believed Wiped programme.
Picturehouse Crouch End will be hosting a day-long
event on Saturday 23 April featuring expert panellists and members of cast and
crew looking at Kneale’s film and TV work and his influence and legacy. Events
include a live reading of ‘lost’ 1942 radio play YOU MUST LISTEN, and
screenings of several of Kneale classics, including THE QUATERMASS EXPERIMENT:
CONTACT HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED, THE STONE TAPE, AGAINST THE CROWD: MURRAIN and
LATE NIGHT STORY: THE PHOTOGRAPH.
Special features
Presented in High Definition and Standard Definition
Newly recorded audio commentary on Nineteen
Eighty-Four by television historian Jon Dear, host of Nigel Kneale
podcast Bergcast, with Toby Hadoke and Andy Murray
Late Night Line-Up (BBC, 1965, 23 mins): members of the cast and crew look
back on the controversies surrounding this adaptation of Orwell’s classic
The Ministry of Truth (2022, 24 mins): in conversation
with the BFI’s Dick Fiddy, television historian Oliver Wake dispels some
of the myths that have grown up around the groundbreaking drama over the
course of the past half century
Nigel Kneale: Into the Unknown (2022, 72 mins): writer, actor and
stand-up comedian Toby Hadoke and Nigel Kneale biographer and programmer
Andy Murray try to unpick who Kneale was, what he did and why his work
still matters today
Gallery of rare images from the BBC Archives
Original script (downloadable PDF)
Newly commissioned sleeve artwork
by Matt Needle
·
** First pressing only** Illustrated booklet with essays by Oliver Wake and
David Ryan; credits and notes on the special features.
Product details
RRP: £19.99 / Cat. no. BFIB1445 / 12
UK / 1954 / black and white / 113 mins
/ English language, with optional subtitles for the Deaf and partial hearing /
original aspect ratio 1.33:1 // BD50: 1080p/50i, 25fps, mono audio
(48kHz/24-bit) / DVD9: PAL, 25fps, Dolby Digital 1.0 mono audio (24kHz/16-bit)
Russian Roulette (originally titled Kill Kosygin!) starts out promisingly enough but ultimately ends up being unsatisfying and misguided. Produced
by Elliott Kastner, who was an old hand at making good, populist
entertainment, the production was shot entirely in Vancouver. George
Segal plays a renegade cop (were there any other kind in the 1970s?) who
has been suspended from the local police force for various infractions.
Suddenly, he is recruited by Canadian secret intelligence to help
thwart a reputed plot to assassinate Soviet Premier Kosygin, who is due
to arrive in a matter of days for a high profile conference. Segal
learns that he is being set up in an elaborate and confusing plot that
involves traitorous KGB agents who want to kill their own premier in
order to prevent him from initiating an era of detente with the West.
Their plan involves kidnapping a local dissident (Val Avery), drugging
him and using him as a human bomb who will be dropped on Kosygin's
limousine from a helicopter! (I'm not making this up.) Along the way,
Segal finds he's being set up as a dupe and is framed for murder. The
entire tired affair ends in a race against time with Segal going
mano-a-mano with a KGB killer on the roof of a landmark hotel that
Kosygin is en route to (the only sequence that affords the slightest
hint of suspense). Absurdly, Kosygin's motorcade is permitted to
continue racing to the hotel despite the fact that hundreds of people
are watching a running gun battle taking place on the roof.
The
film was directed by Lou Lombardo, who made a name for himself as an
editor of great talent after supervising the cutting of The Wild Bunch. As
director, he keeps the action flowing but the plot absurdities soon
distract from some otherwise interesting angles and performances. The
fine supporting cast includes Gordon Jackson, Denholm Elliott, Nigel
Stock and Louise Fletcher, but their characters are rather boring. The
film also throws in Christina Raines for sex appeal but she comes across
as the dullest leading lady in memory, barely registering much emotion
even when finding a dead body in her bathroom. (Although most of us
would find such a development a bit disturbing, Lombardo cuts to a scene
of Segal and Raines enjoying a spot of breakfast tea- while the man's
body remains on the bathroom floor.) Segal is always enjoyable to watch
and his wiseguy persona is in full bloom here, but the production is
amateurish on all levels considering the talent involved. Maybeeveryone
involved just wanted a paid getaway and had a desire to visit
Vancouver. (It should be mentioned that director Lombardo was said to be
battling drinking problems during production and that the finale of the
film - the only truly effective scene- was directed by Anthony Squire,
who did not receive screen credit.)
The film is currently streaming on Shout! Factory TV. The app and subscription for this service are also available through Amazon Prime video.
A highlight of Sunday's BAFTA awards was the performance of Dame Shirley Bassey, who sang "Diamonds are Forever" as part of a tribute to James Bond's 60 years on the big screen.
