The Manila International Film Festival was set to open its doors to guests on 20 January 1982. The date was nearly a year to the day that strong-man Philippine President Ferdinand E. Marco had lifted his controversial eight-year term of martial law restrictions in the country. But the lifting of the martial law brought only small relief to the majority populace. ThePhilippines was still racked by issues of rampant poverty, wealth inequality and unemployment. Bothpolitical and cultural observers thought itfolly to stage such a gilded film event during this transitional period.The Associated Press reported the festival was toconvene in a building costing some 21.5 million dollars - and still under construction.The film center, designed to housescreening rooms and film laboratories,was to also serve as primary archive of Filipino cinema holdings.
The center, described as an eight-story “Parthenon-like Film Palace” was ordered to be built withinthe time of 170 construction days. In such rushed circumstance, aroof collapse occurredreportedly endingthe lives of some fourteen construction workers. The order to erect thepalatial center wasgiven by none other than Imelda Marcos, first lady of the Philippines, often chided for her “edifice complex” excesses. Many saw this wild expenditure as sorry government decision-makingconsidering the nation’s significant economic issues. But Marcos – appearing before the press in a pair of lovely pair of shoes, no doubt – saw it differently.
Marcoscountered that a strong Filipino “film industry would help reduce Manila’s crime rate, because it would give people something to do in their leisure time.” But she was also mindful that a prestigious festival might burnish her country’s damaged image worldwide – all those pesky claims of human rights violations continued to dog the regime.Though anti-Marco forces promised to disrupt the festival should it be held, the army was prepared to protect. There was, thankfully, no violence.
On 2 February 1982, a correspondent from Variety sent in a dispatch from the inaugural staging of the twelve-day festival. The report made note that Filipino film product wasn’t often seen outside the borders of the Pacific island nation. He reasoned this was due to the selling inexperience of local producers. They had worked in isolation for so long, they simply were not familiar with the film industry’s “aggressive marketing tactics.” Two months prior to the actual staging of the event, Variety described how “reluctant” Filipino producers had been invited to a seminar – one designed to stoke their “sales offensive” skills through “showmanship” tactics. But the trade sighed that despite the well-intentioned marketing teach-in, the Filipino film industry had been too long xenophobic, their business-side interest mostly “half-hearted.”
Regardless, and despite many boycotts of the Marcos-inspired event, there was a bubbling of international interest in Filipino film product. Brokers had expressed significant interest in buying distribution rights to eight of the Filipino features offered and available, the sum of those investments bringing sales of nearly a half-million dollars to local producers. Nearly 300 films had been made available to international film brokers at the event, sixty of Filipino provenance. One of the most popular Filipino films – described breathlessly as the festival’s “Top scorer by far” - was an unusual, over-the-top secret agent pastiche featuring a two-foot, nine-inch actor named Weng Wengas central hero. (Critic Alexander Walker of London’s Evening Standard would mockingly describe the diminutive Weng as “a James Bond type cut-off”). The Weng film, directed by Eddie Nicart, was mischievously titled For Y’urHeight Only, an obvious word playon the most recent James Bond screen adventure For Your Eyes Only.
I can’t say with certainty that For Y’ur Height Onlyplayed the grindhouse theaters of “The Deuce” on Manhattan’s 42nd Street, but the film would have fit in well there. It’s a spy-film fever-dream of sorts: thecrack addicts and alcoholics in the grungy red seats could awake from their own narcotic-fed hallucinations and behold images on screen even wilder beyond their own madness’s.This was James-Bond-on-a-budget.A very low budget.Weng’s “Agent 00” is even introduced via an ersatz 007 gun barrel sequence, the moment heightened by the pulsing –and very familiar – opening strains of John Barry’s “James Bond Theme.”
The film itself is all spy-film formula.For Y’ur Height Onlyopens with the kidnapping of a scientist who holds the secret formula to a coveted “N Bomb” weapon. The syndicate behind the kidnapping is led by the mysterious “Mr. Giant” who chooses to communicate withhis minions through a blinking-light, oversized facial mirror.Mr. Giant’s crime syndicate is not, all things considered, particularly political. They also dabble in street-level crimes: drugs, prostitution and theft. They’re a cabal of rogues,openly declaring, “The forces of good are our enemy and they must be exterminated.”
In reaction to the kidnapping, little-person Agent 00 (Weng, described as a “man of few words”), is summoned to report to the office of an ersatz “M.” Weng’s boss breaks down the situation before offeringthe agent a staggering number of gadgets to put to use while working in the field. These include a pen that “doesn’t write words,” a tiny jet-pack, and a razor-brim hat with boomerang-return capability. Of courseWeng manages to dutifully employall of these gadgets while targeting the evildoers: one minion remarks, inarguably, that Wengis “a one-an army,”anothertags him as the “scourge of the secret service.”
Honestly, Weng hardly requiresall the gadgetry. He parachutes from the top of a high-rise building using an ordinary bumbershoot for ballast (think Batman ’66 Penguin-style). But he more often employs his karateskills to bring down platoonsof bad guys with multiple sharp kicks to their groins.Weng also appears a lot smarter than his adversaries as well: he’salways a step or two ahead of theircounter-moves.In a filmbrimming-to-the-edgeswith non-stop action, Weng is constantly seen climbing above or understructures orsliding across floors to vanquish evil gunmen. The film reaches its climax when Weng engages in mano a mano fisticuffs with Mr. Giant, at the villain’s secret lair on a hidden island.
I believe it’s reasonable to saythat for all of its eccentric, energetic charm, For Y’ur Height Onlyis completely and utterly bonkers.It’s also a very cheap looking feature film, the settings gritty and tawdry, the scripting ridiculous. The faces of the entire cast are entirely covered in the glistening sheen of South Pacific humidity and sweat. The film’s atrocious dubbing (from native Tagalog to English) – not the fault of the original filmmakers, of course – burdens the soundtrack: an additional later ofaural nonsensetocompliment the madness on screen.Though For Y’ur Height Onlyis often categorized as an “action-comedy” the original filmmakers took exception, arguing it was no such thing. In their mind, they had made a straight-up formulaic spy film, albeit one with an unusual actor in the lead role.
Following the great reaction and interest inFor Y’ur Height Only at the Manila fest, there were discussions of grumbling embarrassment among Filipino artists and intellectuals in attendance. How could this amateurishly produced extravaganza of pure exploitative nonsense have bested the country’s more significantly erudite and artistic entries?But the film brokers at the festival weren’t highbrows. They were interested in buying cheap and making a few dollars off this novelty spy adventure. Kurt Palm of West Germany’s Repa-Film Productions,purchased the rights to For Yur Height Only(and two other of Weng’s films) for $60,000. Sri Lanka chipped in an additional $1500 for Height rights. Before the festival closed,the producers had sold export rights of Height to distributors in Belgium, France, Indonesia, Italy, Morocco, Nigeria and Switzerland, as well asa number of South American countries.Continue reading "AGENT DOWN: THE IMPROBABLE RISE AND SAD FALL OF SECRET AGENT "OO""
A mind-expanding endeavor, the set
features 99 mostly comic rarities produced from 1898 to 1926, gleaned from
archives and libraries across the globe. It is a triumph of scholarship.” —
Manohla Dargis, The New York
Times
"Cinema’s First Nasty Women
is a game-changer for teaching film history."
-- Catherine Russell, Cineaste
Magazine
"As an entertainment, it’s a
hoot. So much fun! As a look back at the film industry before women creators
were reined in, it’s an historical resource. For anyone who is interested in
early cinema, this disc set is a real treat!"
-- Audrey Kupferberg,
WAMC Northeast Public Radio
"An abundance of low-down female
slapstick anarchy....It's old-school film history turned inside out." --
Michael Atkinson, Sight and Sound
"We need to celebrate this
amazing, labor of love, four Blu-ray package - also hoping for future editions!
It has our strongest recommendation."
-- Gary Tooze, DVDBeaver
Fresh
off its win at the Cinema
Ritrovato DVD Awards, Cinema's
First Nasty Women -- a four-disc set showcasing more than
fourteen hours of rarely-seen silent films about feminist protest, slapstick
rebellion, and suggestive gender play -- has continued to garner critical
praise and inspire innovative repertory programming. This collection is a
celebration of the unknown but indelible women whose rebellious energy and
creative labor helped establish the international silent film industry. Their
work deserves to be enjoyed and remembered today.
Eat
your heart out Barbenheimer! With recent discussions about the power of
popular media to challenge gender norms, subvert lazy stereotypes, and incite
riotous experimentation, now is the perfect time to rediscover these
irreverent, uproarious, and astonishing works from more than a century ago. The
performers in these films paved the way for feminist comedy and gender activism
today. Their wild antics offer uncanny images for navigating the unresolvable
crises and unrealized potentials of our own times. Feast your eyes on Cinema's
First Nasty Women!
These
women organize labor strikes, bake (and weaponize) inedible desserts, explode
out of chimneys, electrocute the police force, and assume a range of identities
that gleefully dismantle traditional gender norms and sexual constraints.
The
films span a variety of genres including slapstick comedy, genteel farce, the
trick film, cowboy melodrama, and adventure thriller, and spotlight performers
and characters like Bertha Regustus, Minnie Devereaux (Cheyenne and Arapaho),
Lillian St. Cyr (Ho-Chunk), Léontine, Little Chrysia, and Edna “Billy” Foster.
Cinema’s
First Nasty Women
includes 99 European and American silent films, produced from 1898 to 1926,
sourced from thirteen international film archives and libraries, with all-new
musical scores, video introductions, commentary tracks, and a lavishly illustrated
booklet by leading scholars and artists, including Shelley Stamp, Jane Gaines,
Jennifer Bean, Mariann Lewinsky, Susan Stryker, Arigon Starr (Kickapoo), Kyla
Wazana Tompkins, Yiman Wang, and Liza Black (Cherokee).
Curated
by Maggie Hennefeld, Laura Horak, and Elif Rongen-Kaynakçi, and produced for
video by Bret Wood, Cinema’s First Nasty Women is a partnership of Kino
Lorber, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, Women Film Pioneers Project, Eye
Filmmuseum, FIC-Silente, and Carleton University.
CINEMA'S FIRST NASTY
WOMEN
Four-Disc Collection (1898-1926)
Region Free
Directors: various
Cast: Florence Turner, Little Chrysia,
Texas Guinan, Fay Tincher,
Gene Gauntier, Mabel Taliaferro,
Bertha Regustus, Sarah Duhamel,
Evelyn Greeley, Laura Bayley, Edna
"Billy" Foster, Tsuru Aoki, Léontine
Total Running Time: 875 minutes
Countries: Denmark, France, Italy,
Netherlands, Sweden, U.K., U.S.
Genres: Comedy, Action, Drama,
Melodrama, Silent, Slapstick, Western
Technically speaking, OSS 117 secret agent Hubert
Bonisseur de La Bath is not a James
Bond knock off.The creation of wildly
prolific French author Jean Bruce, the first literary adventure of the spy arrived
in 1949 with the publication of Tu parles d'une ingénue (Ici OSS 117).This
would pre-date the April 1953 publication of the first Ian Fleming James Bond
novel, Casino Royale, by nearly four years.In the years following the publication of that
first 007 thriller to his last in 1965, Fleming would deliver an impressive thirteen
James Bond novels and nine short stories.
In contrast, Jean Bruce would
publish no fewer (and possibly more) than eighty-eight to ninety OSS 117
pulp-adventures between 1949 and March of 1963, the month and year of his
passing. It’s difficult to determine how many of Bruce’s novels were of his
composition alone. His widow, Josette – and later a teaming of the Bruce’s son
and daughter – would continue the pulp series into the early 1990s. So determined
bibliophiles will have their work cut out for them if they wish to track down
all of the 250+ published OSS 117 novels.
If OSS 117 beat James Bond to
the stalls of book-sellers, he also managed to beat him to the cinema
screen.Two OSS 117 films were released
throughout Western Europe and foreign markets in 1957 and 1960: OSS 117 n'est pas mort (OSS 117 is not Dead)
andLe bal des espions
(Danger in the Middle East).The latter title,
interestingly, does not feature “Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.”Though based on one of Bruce’s OSS 117
novels, a messy rights-issue prevented the filmmakers to use the central
character’s moniker.These earliest
films, produced as routine crime dramas by differing production companies (and
featuring different actors in the title role), came and went without attention
nor fanfare.
But in 1963 Bruce’s OSS 117 character was resurrected as
a cinematic property following the success of Terence’s Young’s Dr. No, the first James Bond screen
adventure.The spy pictures comprising
Kino Lorber’s OSS 117 Five Film
Collection are tailored as pastiches of the popular James Bond adventures
of the 1960s.This new Blu ray set
features the entirety of OSS 117 film thrillers produced 1963 through 1968
during the height of Bondmania.And,
just as the Eon series offered a trio of actors to portray James Bond
(1962-1973), the OSS series would likewise present three in the role of Colonel
Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.Each actor
would bring some aspect of their own personalities to their characterizations.
Of course, the name Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is a bit
of a Franco-linguistic mouthful to market successfully overseas.So, throughout the five films the character usually
assumes an Anglo-friendly alias which helps move things along a bit more
smoothly: he alternately assumes – among others - such covert surnames as
Landon, Barton, Delcroix, Wilson and Mulligan.It certainly makes his character’s many “personal” on-screen introductions
easier for all involved.
The Kino set starts off chronologically with 1963’s OSS 117 is Unleashed (original title OSS 117 se déchaîne).Like the four films to follow, the series
were all Franco-Italia co-productions and distributed by Gaumont Films.Unlike those four, OSS 117 is Unleashed is filmed in black-and-white.The monochrome photography is not really an
issue.But cinemagoers were certainly cheated
of enjoying the beautiful beaches and Cliffside scenery of the village of
Bonifacio (off the Corsican strait) in vibrant color.
In OSS 117 is
Unleashed our hero (American actor Kerwin Mathews, best known to American
audiences for his roles in Ray Harryhausen’s special-effect laden epics The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), is sent
to Corsica to investigate the suspicious death of a fellow agent.We’re told, suspiciously, there’s been, “lots
of accidents among agents near Bonifacio.”A preamble to the film, culled mostly of cold war era newsreel footage,
alerts that an unspecified enemy is working towards “neutralizing” free-world atomic
submarine movements in the area. With
conspirators tagged with such names as “Sacha” and “Boris,” we can reasonably
assume its east-of-the-Iron Curtain intelligence agents behind the plot.
Initially posing as a relative of the recently targeted
and now deceased CIA frogman (and later as a Lloyds of London insurance adjustor),
Mathews must dispatch and/or fend off a series of enemy agents and perhaps a duplicitous
woman.In due course, he survives a poisoning,
several (well-choreographed) hand-to-hand combat sequences and even a submerged
spear-gun and knifing frogman attack.The latter occurs while he’s search of a mysterious submerged
subterranean grotto.The base is outfitted
(as one might expect) with high-tech equipment and a detection system designed
to bring about “the end of atomic submarines.”The secreted grotto is also equipped with a built-in self-destruct
button… always handy, just in case.This
is all definitely Bond-on-a budget style filmmaking.Of course, the idea of covertly tracking atomic
submarines movements brings to mind the storyline of the far-more-lavishly
staged The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).
As far as I can determine, OSS 117 is Unleashed was never released theatrically in the
U.S.But Mathews’ second (and final) outing
as OSS 117, Panic in Bangkok (Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117) (1964) would
have a belated release in the U.S. (as Shadow
of Evil) in December of 1966.Regardless,
Shadow of Evil was not exhibited as a
primary attraction in the U.S. market.It most often appeared as the under bill to Christopher Lee in The Brides of Fu Manchu or (more
sensibly) to Montgomery Clift’s political suspense-thriller The Defector.
In Panic in Bangkok,
Mathews is dispatched to Thailand to, once again, investigate the assassination
of a fellow agent.The murdered CIA operative
had been investigating a possible correlation between anti-cholera vaccines
produced by Bangkok’s Hogby Laboratories to an outbreak of a deadly plague in
India.The trail leads Mathews to
suspect a certain mysterious Dr. Sinn (Robert Hossein) is somehow involved.Unlike the previous film which lacked a singular
villain with a foreboding presence (ala Dr. No), the filmmakers offer
cinemagoers a more exotic adversary in Dr. Sinn.
Vinegar Syndrome has released a special edition of the 1968 whodunnit Western "5 Card Stud". It's an unusual title for the company, which generally specializes in releasing first rate special editions of obscure cult films and vintage erotica. The film was a follow-up project between veteran producer Hal Wallis and director Henry Hathaway, who had great success with their 1965 Western "The Sons of Katie Elder" which top-lined John Wayne and Dean Martin, who were reunited six years after co-starring in Howard Hawks' classic "Rio Bravo". "Stud" is by no means a classic, but it is a highly entertaining, offbeat entry in the genre, combining traditional Western elements with the novel idea of incorporating a plot concerning serial murders. Martin plays a character with a Hollywoodish name, Van Morgan. He's a professional gambler who finances his life and travels by dressing up like a dude and finding great success in the gambling parlors of Denver. In between games, he leads a low-key life in a small town of Ricon, Colorado, which is attracting miners intent on finding gold that is rumored to in the surrounding area. When the film opens, he is embroiled in a hard-fought game of poker with local men that extends well into the night. When one of the players is revealed to be cheating, the hot-headed Nick Evers (Roddy McDowell) overreacts and gets the other men to join him in tying up the culprit, riding him out by a nearby bridge to lynch him. Van attempts to stop the hanging, but Nick knocks him out with the butt of his pistol. Not much is done about the crime, since Nick is the son of beloved local cattle baron Sig Evers (Denver Pyle), a widower who runs the ranch with Nick and his sister Nora (Katherine Justice), who are both heirs to the cattle ranch. Nora clearly is smitten by Van, who is reluctant to formally court her, given the fact that she is a decent woman and he lives a somewhat indecent lifestyle. Things kick into gear when one-by-one the men who participated in the fateful poker game are murdered.
The plot is yet another example of Agatha Christie's classic suspense novel "Ten Little Indians" having influenced films of every type of genre. However, the script by the estimable Marguerite Roberts (who would collaborate with Wallis and Hathaway the next year for the triumphant "True Grit") gives the movie an unusual angle for a Western. Roberts had adapted a little-known novel titled "Glory Gulch" by Ray Gaulden and by all accounts took liberties to improve the story substantially. The movie comes to life with the introduction of the film's most dynamic character, the Reverend Rudd (Robert Mitchum), a gunslinging preacher who arrives out of nowhere to open the town's first chapel, determined to bring God into the lives of the town's hedonistic inhabitants. Rudd is a preacher in the fire-and-brimstone tradition. He's outwardly polite but also displays a healthy dose of cynicism. When one of the murders occurs in the chapel, he teams with Van to find the culprit as each of the poker players become increasingly paranoid that they might be the next victim.
The whodunnit aspect of the script is done away with when the identity of the killer is revealed well before the climax. The villain's identity won't come as a shock to any astute viewer, but it's an awful lot of fun watching the clues unravel. Martin was criticized by some reviewers for sleepwalking through his part, but it's an unfair criticism. He gives a perfectly fine performance even if he is upstaged by Mitchum in the meatier and more interesting role. Inger Stevens, in one of her final screen roles before tragically committing suicide at age 35, appears as Lily, a local madame who moves into town with her "girls" and opens a bordello disguised as an upscale tonsorial parlor, which results in some amusing dialogue and sight gags. Van finds himself torn between good girl Nora and the exotic bad girl Lily. The film boasts a marvelous cast of beloved character actors, some of whom only have bit roles. In addition to Denver Pyle, you can relish the presence of Yaphet Kotto, who is excellent in an early career performance. Other participants include John Anderson, Ruth Springford, Roy Jenson,Whit Bissell and Hope Summers, who was a regular on "The Andy Griffith Show". The only off-key note is provided by the miscast Roddy McDowell, who plays a villain in traditional Roddy McDowell style, with a quasi-English accent and an erudite manner that doesn't fit his role as a hard scrabbled cattle rancher. Hathaway's direction is spot-on and the film also offers a quirky musical score by Maurice Jarre that seems to emulate the music found in the Sergio Leone Westerns. We even get to hear Dino warble the catchy title song.
The Vinegar Syndrome release is highly impressive, having been newly scanned and restored in 4K from its original camera negative. Aside from a blurry few seconds in the opening poker game the rest of transfer is excellent. The sleeve has very creative artwork by Tony Stella that seems to pay tribute to the Italian movie poster designs of the era. (There is also reversible sleeve artwork that shows the stars.) There's a 16-page, amply illustrated collector's booklet with an excellent and informative essay by film historian Jim Healy, who astutely points out elements of the film noir genre that are interwoven in the movie. Historian Lizzie Francke provides an excellent video essay about the dramatic life and career of Marguerite Roberts, who managed to rebound after being blacklisted during the dark days of McCarthyism. Film critic Walter Chaw provides a video essay that is devoted entirely to the life and career of Henry Hathaway, and states the obvious: he was always underrated. There is also an impressive commentary track by film book author and Cinema Retro columnist Brian Hannan, who provides plenty of very interesting insights into the making of the film and the Western genre of the 1960s. (He points out that "5 Card Stud" was quite successful at the boxoffice.) As side note, Hannan also runs the addictive blog "The Magnificent 60s".
I don't know if there will be more films of this type released by Vinegar Syndrome, but I hope this isn't an aberration and that there will be more to follow, especially if they are presented in such a fine manner.
In
“Man-Eater of Kumaon,” a 1948 feature now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber
Studio Classics, Dr. John Collins (Wendell Corey) undertakes an ill-fated
big-game hunt in the distant land of the movie’s title—an actual region of
India in the Himalayan foothills, not a fantasy world orbiting somewhere
between planets Coruscant and Dune as the exotic name might suggest nowadays.Stalking a tiger in the underbrush, Collins
inflicts an agonizing but not fatal injury as his bullet severs one of the
tiger’s toes.His Indian guides warn
that the wounded tiger will begin attacking and killing humans, and they urge
him to finish what he started.But the
American doesn’t
feel particularly responsible for the villagers now at the mercy of the
carnivore.In his case, it’s less a
matter of Western chauvinism than a general lack of empathy for other people
whatever their ethnicity, a shortcoming that cost him his marriage back in the
States.
After
recovering from an onset of malaria, Collins plans to try his luck inSumatra next.But the tiger has already begun its depredations, and on his way to
Delhi, the hunter encounters a little boy, Panwah, orphaned by the big
cat.Collins conveys the child to a
nearby village, where he is taken in by a young couple, Narain (Sabu) and Lali
(Joanne Page), whom the American befriends.In part, we infer, he becomes close to the loving couple because they
remind him of what he lost back home when his wife divorced him.Still, he resists the idea that, having
turned the tiger into a killer of humans, it’s up to him to restore peace and
security by finishing the job—until the attacks become personal when Lali is
badly mauled while saving Panwah.
“Man-Eater
of Kumaon” was loosely based on a best-selling memoir by big-game hunter Jim
Corbett, who in real life was neither an American nor a disenchanted
physician.This wasn’t the first or last
instance of filmmakers purchasing a popular book, keeping the title for name
recognition, and throwing out most everything else.Unlike many books and films that have
glorified big-game hunting as a macho rite of passage, the dilemma facing John
Collins is a crisis of conscience, not a challenge to his ability to secure a
trophy head.Still, animal-rights
advocates and conservationists are likely to be disturbed by scenes of the
hunter pointing his rifle at the tiger whatever the context.Now, laws would require that the cat be
tranquillised as the first resort and relocated to another habitat away from
humans, not killed.Aside from Sabu, all
the Indians in the story are portrayed by non-Indian actors, a practice that
wouldn’t begin to change for another ten years, when Kamala Devi and I.S Johar
appeared in prominent supporting roles in another movie about ferocious
felines, “Harry Black and the Tiger” (1958).Arguing that studios should have been more inclusive in the 1940s is a
little like contending that Ford’s Theatre should have had metal detectors in
1865.Nevertheless, it’s still a hurdle
for many viewers today, accustomed as we’ve become to the routine presence of
Indian and Indian-American actors in contemporary TV shows and movies, although
critically beloved classics like “Gunga Din” and “Black Narcissus” often seem
to get a pass in this regard.
Well
acted by the always dependable Wendell Corey and capably directed by Byron
Haskin (better known to Sci-Fi enthusiasts for 1953’s “The War of the Worlds”
and six episodes of “The Outer Limits” in 1963-64), “Man-Eater of Kumaon” shows
to good advantage in the new Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.The movie was filmed in black and white by
acclaimed cinematographer William C. Mellor, a choice that may have been
necessitated by the budgetary logistics of incorporating old B&W stock
footage into new shots of a tiger prowling through a backlot jungle set, but it
serves a dramatic purpose too.Mellor’s
glistening daytime shots and hi-def, misty nocturnal compositions underscore a
Film Noir quality in the plot, as fate manoeuvres John Collins into an
initially reluctant, then fiercely resigned showdown with the hostile force of
nature represented by the rogue tiger.Special features on the Blu-ray include several trailers for other
jungle movies and Wendell Corey pictures available from Kino Lorber, a
spirited audio commentary by David Del Valle and Dan Marino and reversible sleeve artwork.
A dissatisfied housewife brings home a stranded alien and
gradually falls in love, high school students live in fear after a beautiful student
is found dead, her back snapped across the gymnasium balance beam, a young teen
dates the enigmatic daughter of a mad scientist, in one town aliens have
actually become part of the community and started attending the local school, a
late-night DJ picks up signals from across space which appear to be from his
recently abducted wife, the real Creature from the Black Lagoon finds himself
working in Hollywood and falling for Julie Adams, teens on Lover’s Lane find
themselves fighting back against a potential alien invasion, and mysterious
video tapes show the real Bela Lugosi in films made by Ed Wood that cannot
possibly exist, given that he had died years before.
This new collection of stories by Dale Bailey (some of
which were previously published in magazines including Asimov’s Science
Fiction and Lightspeed) draws on his own memories of half-watched movies
on late-night TV and reading articles in Fangoria. Perhaps because of
this many of the stories are told as if distant, troubling memories are being
reluctantly recalled. Although the cover art may suggest a fun,
nostalgia-tinged trip back to the fifties, these are stories infused with loss,
grief and melancholy; one man recalls visiting his dead brother’s apartment in
Hollywood, trying to understand how they drifted apart, another, whose wife has
been missing since he claims to have witnessed her being taken up into the sky,
can no longer fully connect with the people around him, a young wife lives in a
trailer park struggling to overcome the tragedy of her baby daughter dying just
minutes after birth, and the Creature tries to reconcile his feelings for Julie
Adams with his desperate need to return to the swamps. These are people whose
lives have not turned out the way they had hoped, trying to understand and come
to terms with their frightening, life-changing experiences. Yet at the same
time, Dale, not forgetting what most of us are here for, combines B-movie
tropes and titles such as ‘Invasion of the Saucer-Men', ‘The Ghoul Goes West’, ‘Night
Caller from Outer Space’ and ‘I Was a Teenage Werewolf’, with humour,
real-world heartbreak and longing.
This hardback collection, published by Electric
Dreamhouse, is a wonderful read for any classic movie fan. Each story is
accompanied by a suitably pulpy illustration (dome-headed aliens, slavering
werewolves and pulchritudinous heroines appear to be Sheady’s specialty), and
the book cover is a work of art in itself, packed with imagery from many
drive-in movies, and not just those referenced in the book. These are stories
that will linger in your mind long after reading, much like the tragic tales
themselves have lingered in the minds of their respective narrators.
Simpson publicity photo for the "Naked Gun" film series. (Photo: Paramount.)
By Lee Pfeiffer
O.J. Simpson, the American football Hall of Fame honoree who went on to develop a successful acting career, has died of cancer at age 76. In 1994, Simpson became the key suspect in the murder of his ex-wife Nicole and her friend Ron Goldman. The resulting trial became one of the most riveting of the modern era with TV audiences following every aspect of his case. The ensuing mania involving Simpson's fate elevated some people associated with the case to prominence while destroying the reputations of others. Although there was considerable evidence tying Simpson to the murders and the fact that he tried to escape police in a notorious and bizarre slow-moving car chase through Los Angeles, the case took on racial elements that divided the nation. For many Black people, Simpson's ultimate acquittal represented a rare case of justice being delivered to a member of their community. White viewers were largely convinced that Simpson had literally gotten away with murder. The "must-see" TV element of the case often overshadowed the fact that it was about two people who had been brutally murdered, as defense attorneys, prosecutors and even the judge became immediate media sensations. When the verdict was announced, America seemed to come to a standstill while everyone found a TV or radio to gather around during the pre-social media era. Simpson's acquittal didn't end his troubles. He was found liable in a civil case for the deaths and was ordered to pay Ron Goldman's family substantial damages. Simpson went to great lengths to avoid doing so, as Goldman's father used media sources to relentlessly hound him. In his post-trial years, Simpson maintained a low key persona, though comedians would often scoff at his public commitment to track down "the real killer".
After leaving football as a true legend, Simpson successfully built an acting career. Although he was never a major boxoffice draw as a leading man, he was very popular in supporting roles. He appeared in such films as "Capricorn One", along with Hollywood royalty in the 1974 blockbuster "The Towering Inferno" as well as the star-studded "The Cassandra Crossing" before co-starring with Leslie Nielsen in the "Naked Gun" trilogy, adeptly playing a hapless, accident-prone detective. Simpson's acting career and role as a popular TV pitchman were casualties of his murder trial and work in the entertainment field dried up even though he had been found not guilty. Simpson was back in the news again some years later when he was arrested and convicted of an armed robbery connected to his attempt to reclaim sports memorabilia that he said had been stolen from him. Simpson would serve nine years in prison for the crime.
Richard Attenborough wins the Best Director and Best Picture Oscars for "Gandhi" at the 1983 Academy Awards. When listening to Walter Matthau and Carol Burnett announce the nominees, try to absorb just how many great films were nominated in this one year.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Blue Underground:
On April 23rd, Blue Underground releases Goodbye
Uncle Tom, one of the most graphic and notorious films ever made, on
Limited Edition 4K UHD and Blu-Ray.
Originally released in 1971, Goodbye Uncle Tom is
an Italian mondo-docudrama based on true events about the rise and revolt of
slavery in America.
Directors Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco
Prosperi (Mondo Cane) used period documentation and historical
accounts to recreate the antebellum south and the horrors of the slave
trade. The film was so shocking in its detailed look at the atrocities of
slavery that distributors in the US forced Jacopetti and Prosperi to cut it and
radically re-edit the film before release.
Even in its truncated form, Goodbye Uncle Tom created
a stir amongst critics. Roger Ebert called it, “… the most
disgusting, contemptuous insult to decency ever to masquerade as a
documentary.” while Pauline Kael said, “the most specific and rabid
incitement to race war," and The Detroit Chronicle hailed it as
"a graphic, moving, nerve-paralyzing film."
Goodbye Uncle Tom can
now be seen more than five decades after its initial release in both its
original uncut Italian version, alongside its drastically different English
version, both fully restored in 4K from their original camera negatives.
Includes a bonus Blu-ray disc with a wealth of supplemental features that give
context to the staggering and violent look back at this horrific chapter of
American history.
The 4K UHD and Blu-ray Extras special features include
feature-length documentaries; never-before-seen interviews with
writers/directors Gualtiero Jacopetti, Franco Prosperi, composer Riz Ortolani
and others; rare behind-the-scene footage; English and Italian trailers; still
galleries, including Giampaolo Lomi’s behind-the-scenes photos; a bonus CD of
the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Riz Ortolani; and a collectible
booklet.
Burt Reynolds had been gnawing around the boundaries of genuine stardom for more than a decade, starring in short-lived television shows and top-lining "B" movies. He ingratiated himself to the American public by showcasing his wit and comedic abilities by appearing on chat shows. In 1972, he struck gold when director John Boorman cast him opposite Jon Voight as the two male leads in the sensational film adaptation of James Dickey's "Deliverance". Finally, he could be classified as a major movie star. Soon, Reynolds was cranking out major films even while his uncanny ability to publicize himself resulted in such stunts as his famed provocative centerfold pose in Cosmopolitan magazine. On screen, Reynolds sensed that he could cultivate an especially enthusiastic audience if he catered to rural movie-goers. He was proven right with the release of "White Lightning", a highly enjoyable 1973 action/comedy that perfectly showcased Reynolds' favored image as a handsome, unflappable hero with a Bondian knack for tossing off quips while facing death and also engaging in good ol' boy towel-snapping humor. Playing bootlegger Gator McClusky, Reynolds drew major crowds, very much pleasing United Artists, which enjoyed hefty profits from the modestly-budgeted production. Reynolds learned, however, that his audience wouldn't necessarily follow him if he deviated from that image. When he went against the grain in films like "The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing", "At Long Last Love" and "Lucky Lady", the movies bombed. When he stuck to the basics, he had hits with "Shamus", "The Longest Yard" and "W.W. and the Dixie Dance Kings". The legendary Variety headline that read "Hix Nix Stix Pix" was no longer true. The American heartland loved Burt Reynolds, especially when he played characters that rural audiences could embrace.
In 1976, Reynolds fulfilled another career milestone by directing his first feature film, a sequel to "White Lightning" titled "Gator". Like the first movie, it was shot entirely on location in Georgia and picked up on the adventures of everyone's favorite moonshiner. When we first see Gator in the sequel, he his getting out of jail only to be targeted by the feds to be used as a pawn in a multi-state crackdown on an epidemic of political corruption that threatens the career of the self-serving, ambitious governor (played very well by famed chat show host Mike Douglas in his big screen debut.) Gator is living in a shack located deep in an inhospitable swamp with his elderly father and precocious 9 year-old daughter when the feds launch a major raid to arrest him on moonshining charges. In reality, they want to use the warrant as leverage to convince him to go undercover for them inside the crime ring. Gator wants no part of it and leads the feds on a merry chase around the bayou in which he is pursued by speed boats and helicopters before finally relenting. The lead federal agent in charge is Irving Greenfield (Jack Weston), an overweight, hyper-nervous Jewish guy from Manhattan who has the unenviable task of ensuring that Gator follows orders. A good portion of the film's laugh quotient comes from Irving's less-than-convincing attempts to "blend in" with small town southern locals. The crime ring is run by Bama McCall (Jerry Reed), an outwardly charming and charismatic fellow who, in reality, uses brutally violent methods to ensure loyalty and intimidate local businessmen to pay protection money. He and Gator are old acquaintances and he doesn't hesitate to give Gator a good-paying job as an enforcer for his mob. Things become more intriguing when Gator sets eyes on Aggie Maybank (Lauren Hutton), an attractive local TV anchor with liberal political beliefs that find her squaring off against Bama in order to protect the poor merchants he is exploiting. "Gator" proceeds on a predictable path but its predictability doesn't detract from its merits, which are considerable. Reynolds is a joy to watch and it's small wonder he leaped to the top ranks of cinematic leading men. His cocky, self-assured persona served him well on the big screen and "Gator" is custom-made to please his core audience. He also proved to be a very able director, handling the action scenes and those of unexpected tragic twists with equal skill. He also gets very good performances from his eclectic cast, with Weston engaging in his usual penchant for scene-stealing. Reed also shines in a rare villainous role and ex-model Hutton proves she has admirable acting chops, as well. The action scenes are impressive thanks to the oversight of the legendary Hal Needham, who would forge a long-time collaborative relationship with Reynolds.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is a reissue with extras from the 2018 release ported over. The new additional material consists of a commentary track by film historians Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson, who also provide a new track on the KL reissue of "White Lightning". The track is quite valuable and entertaining, as old pros Mitchell and Thompson provide a wealth of interesting facts and observations about the film. For example, they discuss that "Gator" is far lighter in tone than the revenge thriller "White Lightning" and say that Reynolds thought the script for "Gator" was sub-par but did the film on the proviso he could direct it. The disc is also impressive not only because of the excellent transfer but also because it contains a filmed interview with Reynolds, who extols the film's virtues and its personal meaning to him. In an unusually candid conversation, he divulges amusing anecdotes about Hutton's on-set quirks that included a penchant for exhibitionism (she would flash her breasts to appreciative crew members.) He also relates how a car crash stunt almost killed Hal Needham. Most poignantly, he talks about his personal affection for Georgia, a state he has filmed over twenty movies in. He also candidly expresses his regret that only directed a few films and never fulfilled his dream of directing productions he didn't star in. The Blu-ray set also includes a new gallery of trailers for Reynolds films available from KL. In all, a highly impressive release of an action film showcasing Reynolds at his best. Recommended.
Cult director Bert I. Gordon was at the helm
for this terrifying story of supernatural passion. Set on an island in a
tight-knit community, Tom Stewart (Richard Carlson) is preparing to marry the
woman he loves. All is well until Tom's old girlfriend, Vi (Juli Reding), confronts him at
the top of the island's lighthouse, claiming he can only be hers! A freak
accident throws the scorned woman to her death. At first relieved, Tom's tune
changes when her vengeful spirit begins to follow him wherever he goes. He's
soon tormented, body and soul, by an unforgiving she-ghost! What lengths will
Tom go to in order to protect his secret? Will the vengeful Vi finally reveal
herself to the others at hand?
And the scene is pretty much set for a quite
wonderful slice of low- budgeted shenanigans. Bert I. Gordon was of course a
master of his art in this particular genre of filmmaking. Starting off in
advertising using his trusted 16mm camera, Gordon wasn’t one to sit back and
wait for success, instead he chased his dream, and as a result accomplished a
pretty good career in movies. He’s best known for writing and directing science
fiction and horror B-movie classics such as King Dinosaur (1955), The Amazing
Colossal Man (1957), Earth vs. the Spider (1958), Village of the Giants (1965),
and later the Joan Collins fun fest Empire of the Ants (1977).
In the late 50’s, ghostly supernatural films
were building in popularity, movies such as Roger Corman’s The Undead (1957),
Edward L. Cahn’s Voodoo Women (1957) and William Castle’s House on Haunted Hill
(1959) signified a change in trends. Gordon was always astute and possessed a good
sense of understanding when it came to successful box office. And so, following
the current trend, Gordon embarked upon his own ghost story in the form of
Tormented (1960). Starring Richard Calson, the actor that had already
established himself in genre classics such as The Maze (1953), It Came from
Outer Space (1953) and Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). Carlson engages
in the fun like a seasoned pro. He’s supported by former child star, Lugene
Sanders, the marvellously formed Juli Reding, child actress Susan Gordon
(daughter of the director) and a young, hip Joe Turkel – who appeared in Stanley
Kubrick's The Killing (1956), Paths of Glory (1957), and later in The Shining
(1980). Aside from being hugely enjoyable throughout, this Film Masters 4K restoration
looks absolutely perfect. Stark, sharp and beautiful on the eye, the amount of
work afforded to this rather cheaply made movie really elevates it to a much
higher level. Blacks are nice and deep, and the images contains just the right
amount of grain without over-cooking it. There seems to be a couple of very
minor jump cuts along the way – best rest assured, blink at the right time and
they’re pretty much undetectable. The print shows no wear, scratches and
virtually free of dust and dirt spots. The audio clarity is also clean and
bright in both DTS and the Dolby digital track. It’s very obvious that the
efforts in restoring this film have really paid off and the results are hard to
fault.
But this Film Masters release offers so much
more – you really have to praise the package as a whole, there’s really no skimping
or cutting corners in terms of its content. Firstly, and as we have come to
expect with the Film Masters releases, there’s an interesting and insightful
commentary track by historian, writer and filmmaker Gary Rhodes along with
contributions by Larry Blamire. The track is a detailed and informative
education. There is an all too brief featurette, Bert I. Gordon: The Amazing
Colossal Filmmaker – which features an archival interview with the charismatic
director who provides us with a general overview of how he began in the
business of movies. Then there is Bigger Than Life: Bert I. Gordon in the
1950’s and 1960’s, a Ballyhoo Motion Pictures documentary featuring film
historian C. Courtney Joyner. This documentary provides a great insight into
the director’s career, with plenty of clips, stories, trailers, poster art and
rare photos illustrated throughout – a real joy. For the more serious scholars,
there is an enjoyable visual essay by The Flying Maciste Brothers (Howard S.
Berger and Kevin Marr). The Spirit is Willing: CineMagic and Social Discord in Bert
I. Gordon’s Tormented, offers a much deeper analysis of the movie and its
implications – which is fine should you want to delve into that particular
territory. At the other end of the spectrum, Film Masters also offers the whole
film again, this time in the form of the Mystery Science Theater 2000 version
(1992). There’s no disputing the fact that these presentations are purely
produced as a put down or a ‘roasting’ for light-hearted entertainment – which is
fine if this is your thing. At least Film Masters has again had the foresight
to cover all areas, and provide something for everyone – dependent upon your
particular taste. One thing I did find particularly interesting during this
version is that it contains the original opening Allied Artists title –
something that was missing from the restored main feature version. There are two
Tormented trailers included, an original ‘raw’35mm version and a 2024 re-cut
version using restored element. Again, a nice way of satisfy all audiences with
both the old and the new, and I’m fully behind that way of thinking. Also
included on the disc is an ‘unreleased TV pilot’ of Famous Ghost Stories
featuring Vincent Price. I was initially quite excited about viewing this, as
it tied in nicely with Tormented because the episode again starred Richard
Calson and Susan Gordon. So, I was a little disappointed to discover that this
was not the full episode and instead was simply just the opening and closing
intro and outro clips featuring Vincent Price. The entire show would hade been
a real treat if included. But overall, this minor quibble takes nothing away
from what is a very generous collection of extras.
On top of that, Film Masters have also
included a nicely produced 22-page illustrated booklet with essays by respected
film historian Tom Weaver and novelist/filmmaker John Wooley. The film sleeve
and booklet cover make good use of the original film artwork.
Film Masters have produced
an excellent package with their presentation of Tormented. The company seems to
grow from strength to strength with each of their new releases. It’s a rare
feeling to feel genuinely excited when considering what might be waiting around
the next corner. I can only hope it’s more of the same.
Some credit director Piers Haggard with coining the term
‘Folk Horror’ during an interview to set his film The Blood on Satan’s Claw
(1971) apart from the more traditional horror offerings by the likes of Hammer
Films and Amicus. As the term has taken hold, such films have become more
closely aligned with a European arthouse style of filmmaking. The genre has
since been retrospectively assigned to many films including the aforementioned
film, alongside the other two points of the ‘Unholy Trinity’ of British Folk Horror;
Witchfinder General (1968) and The Wicker Man (1973). This is a
‘wyrd’ genre, where the films are often unsettling rather than outright
horrifying, although in the case of modern folk horrors such as Kill List (2011),
both things can be said to be true.
When director Ben Wheatley went into the woods to shoot In
the Earth (2021), not only was he returning to the tone and style of his
earlier films Kill List and A Field in England (2013), but he was
also with the title addressing the very essence of Folk Horror: as this new
book discusses in detail, Folk Horror is something with its roots in ancient
(pagan) times, something in the earth, just below the surface - perhaps in an
English field - that once disturbed seeps out, terrifying some, whilst bringing
others together with its community rituals and human sacrifice.
In this new collection of academic essays, the old and
new British examples of the genre are explored in detail from a range of
fascinating perspectives; studies of history, folklore and Britain’s
non-Christian past, the close-knit communities often at the heart of Folk
Horror films and their clashes with modernity, Celtic Folk Horror, the way in
which female filmmakers have subverted tropes and shifted generic conventions,
the recurring use of drums in pagan ceremonies and rituals, the evils of the British
landscape, social and political influences on the films across the decades, and
the relevance and influence of certain British writers such as Arthur Machen on
the genre. As well as the three films of the ‘Unholy Trinity’, each of which
gets a fair amount of analysis here, other films under discussion include Ken
Russell’s wildly entertaining The Lair of the White Worm (1988), based
on the Bram Stoker novel which itself is based on the north-eastern legend of
the Lampton Worm, The Company of Wolves (1984), Doomwatch (1972),
Cry of the Banshee (1970), Psychomania (1973), and many more
including several modern films which this writer was previously unfamiliar but
has to now seek out.
As with all academic collections, the caveat must be
added that the hardback price is because this edition is aimed at libraries,
and a more affordable paperback edition will be available in due course. This
is a worthwhile collection for anyone interested in this ‘wyrd’ sub-genre of
the British horror film, particularly now that Spring is here and soon ‘Summer
is icumen in’.
After
Woody Allen’s early, zany comedies made between 1969-1975, the filmmaker began
making personal works more akin to those of European auteurs. Art-house
pictures, really. He seemed to have taken his cue from the likes of Ingmar
Bergman, certainly, but also Federico Fellini and others. To this reviewer, though,
Allen’s movies, be they comedies or dramas from Annie Hall (1977)
onwards, almost always deal with the fragility of flawed human relationships—the
same kinds of pictures made by French director François
Truffaut. Truffaut’s films are full of extramarital affairs, love gone wrong,
and sometimes the murder of someone who has gotten in the way of a central
character’s goals.
Now,
Allen’s 50th motion picture, Coup de chance (“Stroke of
Luck”), shot in France with a French crew and cast, and with dialogue entirely
in French (with English subtitles), demonstrates that the director really has
become Truffaut and made his own little European art-house picture like The
Soft Skin or The Woman Next Door (two of Truffaut’s dramas). Or is
it just another Crimes and Misdemeanors or Match Point or Irrational
Man, to name some of Allen’s own dramas that deal with the same subject
matter?
Even
though much of the new film is very familiar Woody Allen territory, Coup de
chance is undoubtedly his most engaging piece since, say, Blue Jasmine.
Is it as good? Not really. And it doesn’t touch Match Point, which is
easily one of the director’s greatest thrillers, which Coup de chance attempts
to be.
Fanny
(the radiant Lou de Laâge) is married to wealthy Jean (the handsome
but appropriately cold Melvil Poupaud). They live in Paris and enjoy an
upper-class, privileged life due to Jean’s work as some kind of financier (“He
makes rich people richer,” Fanny explains). Fanny works at an auction gallery
but is somewhat bored by the couple’s high society social life and especially
by Jean’s continual insistence of going to the country to hunt game with his
friends. Every so often, Fanny’s mother, the wise but somewhat fussy Camille (Valérie
Lemercier), comes to visit for a few days. Camille gets along well with Jean
and even enjoys going hunting in the country with him and his pack while Fanny
stays at the cottage with a book to read. One day on a city street during her
lunch break, Fanny, by happenstance, runs into a former high school
acquaintance, Alain (Niels Schneider). Alain, a divorced writer, immediately
gushes how he had a crush on her back then and would enjoy taking her to lunch.
Fanny agrees. And then she agrees again. Before long, Fanny and Alain are
having an affair. Jean, however, is the jealous type. Extremely so.
To
reveal more would spoil the rest of the story, but most viewers of Woody
Allen’s films can likely predict how it’s going to go. There is an unusual
twist in the third act… and indeed there is a “stroke of luck” that occurs
which emphasizes the film’s themes of coincidence, luck, and fate and how these
concepts can be intertwined. These were common ideas that Polish director Krzysztof
Kieslowski imbued in his pictures, too.
Allen’s
direction here is top form and he is aided by the editing of Alisa Lepselter.
The film moves at a rapid pace with brief vignette-like scenes. The actors are
all superb, despite working with roles that unfortunately do not have much
depth in such a picture of brevity and briskness. The photography by veteran
Vittorio Storaro is gorgeous, and the imagery makes one want to plan an
immediate trip to visit Paris.
The
problems are that we’ve been down this road too many times with Woody Allen.
Yes, there are a few differences in the structure and storytelling, but the
familiarity still nags at the viewer. The novelty of an Allen picture being
entirely in French and in Paris does distinguish it from the others… but then
there’s the issue of whether or not American audiences will relate to these
upper-class French people or care about them at all. (One might have the same
argument about Allen’s portrayal of upper-class New Yorkers in previous
movies!) Another issue is the overuse of upbeat, lively jazz music (mostly
Herbie Hancock’s “Canteloupe Island”), which in some scenes feels highly
inappropriate for a thriller, and ultimately becomes tiresome.
That
said, there’s no question that Coup de chance is an improvement over the
last few Woody Allen titles, but it likely will not be included among the
fifteen to twenty of the filmmaker’s most respected works. But when there are
fifty titles from which to choose, landing somewhere in the middle isn’t bad.
Will
there be future pictures from Allen, who at the time of writing is 88 years old?
Who knows… but if he goes out with Coup de chance then it will be considered
an admirable effort.
(Barbara Rush with Robert Vaughn, Anthony Eisley and Paul Newman in "The Young Philadelphians". Photo: Cinema Retro Archive.)
By Lee Pfeiffer
Actress Barbara Rush has passed away at age 97. Rush had a long career in film, theater and television. She worked under contract in the 1950s for both Paramount and Universal. Her first prominent role was in the 3-D sci-fi cult classic "It Came from Outer Space". She also had a major role in director Martin Ritt's 1957 drama "No Down Payment", a riveting critique of hypocrisy in post-WWII suburban society. She co-starred with Paul Newman in the acclaimed 1959 drama "The Young Philadelphians" and would reunite with him, playing an unsympathetic role, in Martin Ritt's 1967 classic western "Hombre". She was the female lead in the 1958 WII drama "The Young Lions" starring Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift and Dean Martin. She would also co-star with Frank Sinatra in the comedies "Come Blow Your Horn" and "Robin and the Seven Hoods". In later years, she found success on television in recurring roles in the prime time soap operas "Flamingo Road" and "7th Heaven". She also toured in the one-woman stage production of "A Woman of Independent Means", earning kudos from critics. She also gained pop culture status in the 1960s by playing the villainess Nora Clavicle in the "Batman" TV series. Rush was married three times, including to actor Jeffrey Hunter. She is survived by her son and daughter. For more click here.
Alan
Ladd and Geraldine Fitzgerald are American agents in the newly-formed WWII era spy
agency “O.S.S.,” on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. Ladd is Philip Masson, an agent
in the recently formed Office of Strategic Services. The head of the spy group
is Commander Brady, played by Patric Knowles, who sends Masson and several
other agents on their first mission to German occupied France in 1942. Their
mission is to blow up a railway tunnel using plastic explosives and connect
with the French Resistance. Along the way they encounter Nazis, French
collaborators and informants. Joining Mason is Ellen Rogers played by Fitzgerald
and they meet up with fellow OSS agents Robert Bouchet, AKA Bernay the radio
operator, played by Richard Benedict, and Rodney Parrish, AKA Gates, the leader
of Team Applejack, played by Don Beddoe.
Philip
and Ellen have assumed new identities as John Martin, a pipe smoking laborer (his
pipe is a nifty gadget that turns into a gun), and Elaine Duprez, a visiting
artist. Gates is captured and killed by the Gestapo soon after the team parachutes
into France. Gates outs himself at a restaurant by using his fork and knife in
the wrong hand moving Philip into the leadership position. Philip becomes
romantically interested in Ellen which is complicated by the arrival of a local
German commander, Colonel Paul Meister (played by John Hoyt making his screen
debut) who is also interested in “Elaine,” after he asks her to create a bust
of himself. Soon he asks “Elaine” to join him on a trip via rail which will take
them through the tunnel they are sent to destroy.
Working
alongside Commander Brady in England is Gloria Saunders as Radio Operator
Sparky. She receives and sends coded messages with Bernay and they quickly form
a friendship. A local Gestapo agent, Amadeus Brink (played by Harold
Vermilyea), discovers the plot, and provides cover for the team of saboteurs as
long as his extortion demands are met. The bust created by “Ellen” is made of
the plastic explosives and this is used to destroy the railway tunnel. Philip
rescues Elaine during the chaos of the explosion and after they escape she
tells him, “Never come back for me again.”
Ladd,
Fitzgerald, Hoyt and Knowles are all terrific, as is the supporting cast. The
movie is dark, intense and a very good spy thriller making good use of light
and shadows. The film was directed by Irving Pichel, who is known for such
genre favorites as “The Most Dangerous Game,” “She,” “Mr. Peabody and the
Mermaid” and “Destination Moon” spanning the 30s, 40s and 50s. The screenplay
by Richard Maibaum was a forerunner to his work in the James Bond series
produced by Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman starting with the 1962
release, “Dr.r No” and continuing through “Licence to Kill” in 1989.
The
cinematography by Lionel Lindon is a highlight, as much of the action takes
place either at night or in dimly- lit rooms and the aforementioned tunnel.
Lindon was cinematographer or director of photography on the movies “Around the
World in 80 Days,” “Casanova’s Big Night,” “Dead Heat on a Merry-Go-Round,” “Going
My Way,” “Grand Prix, “The Manchurian Candidate,” “My Favorite Brunette,” “Submarine
Command,” and TV series episodes for “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” “M Squad,” “McHales’s
Navy” and “The Munsters,” to name just a few of his many credits which spanned decades.
Released
by Paramount in May 1946, the movie was made with the approval and support of
the O.S.S. and definitely can be viewed as government propaganda, but it’s much
more than that. The disc features a fascinating audio commentary track by Samm
Deighan which is chock full of interesting information of the origins of the
O.S.S., spy movies and the post WWII communist and Hollywood blacklist. The
movie looks and sounds terrific in glorious black and white clocking in at 108
minutes. The disc also features the trailer for this and other Kino Lorber
titles. “O.S.S.” is highly recommended for fans of Alan Ladd, spy thrillers and
WWII drama.
Louis Gossett Jr., star of stage, feature films and television, has passed away at age 87. Gossett was up against racial prejudice in the entertainment industry when he made his screen debut in 1961 opposite Sidney Poitier in the classic African-American drama "A Raisin in the Sun". Gossett had already appeared in the 1959 Broadway production of the acclaimed drama. A long career in films and television followed including playing both villains and heroes in such productions as "The Deep", "Diggstown" and "Skin Game". He won an Emmy for his performance in the 1977 landmark TV mini-series "Roots". Gossett also dabbled in song-writing and one of his songs was sung by Richie Havens in his opening appearance at the Woodstock festival. In 1983, Gossett became the second Black actor to win an Oscar following Sidney Poitier's 1964 win for "Lilies of the Field". Gossett's win for Best Supporting Actor was for playing a tough-as-nails Marine drill instructor in the 1982 boxoffice smash "An Officer and a Gentleman". He would go on to star in the popular "Iron Eagle" military adventure films. Gossett's career would go into decline due to problems with alcoholism and drug abuse, but he bounced back and began to work steadily once more. Most recently he was seen in the 2023 musical version of "The Color Purple". Gossett had dedicated much of his life to eradicating racism and created a foundation to pursue that aim. For more and a video essay, click here.
As
a huge fan of Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film version of Stephen King’s 1977 novel The
Shining, which I saw at the age of fifteen and was completely terrified by,
it is a daunting task indeed to watch any other (excuse the pun) incarnation of
this fantastic story as seen through the eyes of another filmmaker without
being drawn back to Mr. Kubrick’s much-maligned interpretation that was
initially criticized but subsequently revered by some as the greatest horror
film ever made. The Shining is a film that has affected me profoundly in
ways that only a handful of other films ever have. I felt a compelling
obsession with it that was nearly impossible to verbalize. It was my second
Jack Nicholson film, and it made me a lifelong fan of his; it introduced me to
pre-existing music and its use in a contemporary film; and perhaps, most
significantly, it was my introduction into the world of Mr. King’s writings.
Having read the novel a mere two months after seeing the film for the first
time, I was completely surprised to see how much Mr. Kubrick altered the source
material. Much has been written about his decision to jettison nearly all but
the bare bones plot of a former alcoholic schoolteacher-turned-writer taking on
the position of the caretaker of a Colorado hotel during the winter months with
his wife and young son. The film’s most vocal critic is perhaps the author
himself who, while acknowledging Mr. Kubrick’s genius as a film director, has
never held back his disdain for The Shining for which he wrote a
screenplay that was subsequently rejected by the director in favor of his own
collaboration with novelist Diane Johnson. Mr. King’s disappointment in the
film made him vow to make his own version one day, and The Shining, as
presented in a three-part mini-series on ABC in April and May of 1997 and
directed by Mick Garris, is the result.
Jack
Torrance (Stephen Webber) is a recovering alcoholic who has been fired for beating
up a student following the latter cutting the former’s car tire after an
argument. To say that Jack is skating on thin ice would be an understatement,
even after many AA meetings. His marriage is on the rocks with his wife Wendy
(Rebecca De Mornay) following him breaking their son Danny’s (Courtland Mead)
arm after a drinking bout. All he really wants is quiet time to write his play.
Taking care of the remotely located Overlook Hotel during the brutal winter
months is his opportunity to do just that. Stuart Ullman (Elliott Gould), the stern
and surly hotel manager, has been apprised of Jack’s past and is not too
pleased to have to offer him the job as a favor. Dick Halloran (Melvin Van
Peebles), the Overlook’s head chef, gives Wendy and Danny a tour of the
kitchen, and discovers that he shares
the gift of the Shining with Danny, a force described as a “psychic ability to
see visions of the past, present, and future, as well as communicate
telepathically with others who possess similar abilities.”
Once
on their own following the hotel’s seasonal shutdown, the Torrances spend time
acclimating themselves to the quiet solitude of the hotel and their quarters. It
does not take long for them, however, to realize that strange things are going
on in their midst. Unfortunately for Jack, there are evil forces at work that
threaten to unravel the very fabric of his family unit as well as his sanity. Evidence
of past horrors that occurred within the hotel begin to emerge in the form of an
undead and decaying woman in room 217, an anthropomorphized topiary, a hornet’s
nest of not-quite-dead wasps, and a scrapbook of news articles providing
evidence of the hotel’s sordid history. Wendy’s attempts to seduce her husband
into a night of lovemaking while dressed seductively are spurned multiple times
by a distracted Jack who is thinking of incorporating elements of the Overlook
into his play while also dealing with the demons of his alcoholism. In the
midst of this is their seven-year-old son Danny who plays referee between them while
trying to make sense of all that conspires to destroy his family. It isn’t long
before the ghosts of the Overlook’s past begin to show up in their evening
gowns and Jack loses his grip on reality, attempting to destroy his family
while Danny telepathically summons Mr. Halloran who comes to their rescue.
At
four-and-a-half hours, this version of The Shining is highly faithful to
Mr. King’s story and, except for the genuinely frightening woman in Room 217,
there is little in the way of tension and scares. Steven Webber does an
admirable job of portraying a man modeled after Mr. King himself who is trying
to go sober and keep his temper in check. Rebecca De Mornay, who was just
twenty years-old when she was cast in late 1980 as an understudy in Francis
Ford Coppola’s extravagant One from the Heart (1982) and found overnight
fame as Lana in Paul Brickman’s highly successful Risky Business (1983)
opposite Tom Cruise, plays Wendy much closer to Mr. King’s original vision in
his novel. She is a strong-willed mother fiercely protective of her young
charge against the adversity unfurling within the family unit. The film is
ultimately undone by the not-ready-for-prime-time computer-generated imagery
effects (CGI) that come off as silly and unfinished.
It
is impossible to avoid comparisons between this and Mr. Kubrick’s film, the
scariest film I have ever seen and which has only become more revered,
iconoclastic, studied and analyzed in the years since its original release, so
I will tread lightly. There are many areas that make Mr. Kubrick’s version,
which was faked on backlots and massive sets at Elstree Studios in England, a
standout. In his film, the Overlook, as represented by Oregon’s Timberline
Lodge, became a character of its own. The Torrance’s, as played by Jack
Nicholson, Shelly Duvall, and Danny Lloyd, felt as though they were really and
truly snowbound and had absolutely no recourse from the outside world. The same
cannot be said for the hotel in this version which, ironically, is the very
hotel that inspired the story: the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado.
The
one area that neither film version touches upon that is a big fear of Danny’s
in the novel of the notion his parents will divorce, which is further
italicized to emphasize innate fear. The other words that do make their
way into both films are, of course, REDRUM and MURDER.
The
miniseries is now available on a double disc Blu-ray from Scream! Factory. Blu-ray
Disc One contains Parts One and Two, and Blu-ray Disc Two contains Part Three
and additional scenes that were cut from the film. The film begins with a
disclaimer: “To provide the most complete version of the film, a few scenes
have been upgraded from the best available, non-Interpositive source.” This
verbiage will go over the heads of the uninitiated, and as such it merely
states that the folks at Scream! Factory did their best to locate the best
available film elements for this high-resolution transfer. I must admit that
even to my trained eyes, I had difficulty differentiating between the best film
elements and whatever less-than-stellar footage was used in the transfer, which
is excellent. There is a highly enjoyable audio commentary by author Stephen
King, director Mick Garris, actor Steven Weber, actress Cynthia Garris, visual effects
supervisor Boyd Shermis, makeup supervisor Bill Curso, and cinematographer
Shelly Johnson that is worth the price of the movie alone. They give great
insight into how the film came to be, especially author King who discusses
staying at the Stanley Hotel in October 1974 with his wife. He explains that,
had the concierge not asked the Kings if they could pay cash to stay overnight,
the book would never have come to be. Talk about a fortuitous exchange. He also
talks about his own experiences and struggles with alcoholism and his relation
to Jack Torrance.
Director
Garris discusses how his version is not intended as a remake of Stanley
Kubrick’s film (which would have been a fool’s errand) but instead a filmed
representation of author Mr. King’s novel, and discusses the challenges of
making a film of a beloved book and working with a child actor, made easier
thanks to Dawn Jeffory-Nelson, an acting teacher. She appears as an unwitting
victim in David Schmoeller’s ultra-creepy Tourist Trap (1979), and worked
extensively with young actor Mead. Steven Weber provides his insights into
working with Ms. De Mornay and how the most difficult scene they did consisted
of nine pages of dialog and had to be in the can in one day.
The
film was originally released on DVD in 2003 and the commentary and additional
eleven scenes that run a total of sixteen-minutes appear to have been ported
over from that release. The image quality of this new double-disc Blu-ray,
however, easily bests that DVD so if you are a fan of this film this is a
worthy upgrade.
In
the aftermath of the surprise runaway success of Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and
Clyde – the Warner Bros. crime-drama garnering a fifty-million dollar
profit on a two million dollar investment by the close of 1967 – rival studio
United Artists wisely chose to give the director free-reign in choosing his
follow-up project. Ultimately, Penn
chose to give folksinger Arlo Guthrie’s already fabled talking-blues, the
“Alice’s Restaurant Massacree,” a big screen treatment. The timing seemed right.
Though
Penn’s new film would be far removed in temperament and style (and certainly
less violent) than his previous effort it was, in many respects, a prudent
choice. Such anti-establishment films as
Easy Rider, Medium Cool and Wild in the Streets had proven
critical and box successes in the years 1968-1969. Such free-spirited films brought in young,
enthusiastic audiences, the movie industry’s most important target demographic. But Penn was also aware that this recent
trend from literary to reality-based story-telling on film signaled an
important shift. He told the Los
Angeles Times that filmmakers were in increasingly “moving more and more
into direct relationship with the populace.”
Guthrie’s
meandering, sardonic epic – one seamlessly weaving an innocent’s view of
government inanities, the overreach of small-town policing, of “American Blind
Justice,” the travails of Selective Service draft board induction and of U.S.
foreign policy in Vietnam – was blistering clear-eyed and acutely withering in
its impossibly gentle, but mocking satire.
In
March of 1968 Guthrie’s manager, Harold Leventhal, was in process of inking the
film deal with Penn and UA. That very
same month Guthrie’s debut album, also titled Alice’s Restaurant, had
climbed to the no. 29 spot on the Billboard Top 100 album chart. Guthrie’s album had, improbably, been
charting steadily upward since it’s entry in the no. 180 position in November
of 1967. This was a particularly impressive
feat for an album whose signature song was eighteen minutes and twenty seconds
long. The song’s maddeningly memorable
and cyclical melody was supported only by the most basic backing
instrumentation: Guthrie’s acoustic guitar, a sparse standup bass and an impish
typewriter-cadence drum beat.
By
all measures, the commercial success of the “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree” was
implausible. Guthrie’s studio recording was understandably ignored on
ever-important AM radio – partly as no broadcast-length version was made
available to them.* But long before Guthrie would formally record his
shaggy-dog studio version of the “Massacree” in a professional setting in June
of 1967, the song was already well-known by those listening to such free-form
underground radio stations as New York City’s WBAI and Philadelphia’s
WMMR. The song had been pirated – in
several differing “live” versions and iterations – from reel-to-reel recordings
sourced from Guthrie’s appearances during late-night on-air radio show
appearances.
Thanks
to the underground circulation of those recordings, the “Massacree” was quickly
adopted as an anthem of the counter-culture, and by writers, artists and
anti-war activists. In time, Guthrie’s
talking-blues filtered up from underground radio to a more mainstream
audience. The song particularly appealed
to open-minded listeners, draft-age youngsters, journalists and
social-political pundits. They
immediately recognized that many of Guthrie’s satirical observations were acute
and perhaps too-closely reflected a society going amiss.
Upon
its release in September of 1969, Penn’s cinematic version of Alice’s
Restaurant wasn’t the box-office blockbuster that Bonnie and Clyde
was – but no one expected it to be. It
was a more personal low-budget film, but one that still did great
business. The film would bring in some
6.3 million dollars and sell just shy of 4.5 million paid admissions in the
domestic North American theatrical market alone. The film’s cast of professional actors were
supplemented by the townspeople of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, and by Guthrie’s
own friends working as extras on the edges. Penn estimated that ninety percent of the extras in the film were of the
community.
Penn’s
cinema vérité style dabbles are evident throughout. The film’s primary strength is in its
glimpses of the otherwise private involvements of the community congregating at
Alice and Ray Brock’s Old Trinity Church in Great Barrington. The film, on occasion, has a documentary feel
to it. This was Penn’s choice, his
personal way of doing things. “I work
very fluidly, with almost no preconceptions,” he told a visiting journalist on
set. Penn also shared that he did not
work from storyboards nor even visit locations prior to shooting. “I just sort of set up how life would be if
you were in that situation.” It could be
argued that the biggest issue with this approach was Penn’s viewing the
unfolding drama through a lens of presumption: the film’s reality and fictional
episodes are uneasily juxtaposed throughout.
Though
Arlo Guthrie holds mixed feelings about the resulting film (“I only made one
film,” he’d tell concert audiences over ensuing decades, “…’cause I saw
it.”), his memories of working with the creative team involved remain
warm. He thought Penn’s effort was an
“honest” one, his efforts allowing outsiders a small peek into the “scene”
built around the Old Trinity Church. But
Guthrie was also aware that the scene at Trinity circa 1965 – the time of
Guthrie’s Thanksgiving Day crime of littering - was a fluid one. Penn’s film could only provide a brief
snapshot of a time already passed since, in coming days, Guthrie reckoned,
“there’ll be a whole new scene up there, as everywhere else.”
Guthrie
was only twenty-years old when the film went into production - and had not
acted professionally in any capacity. Many on set in the summer of ’68 found the folksinger private and
distant, “elusive” in answers to both crew members and visiting
journalists. According to a long essay
in Playboy magazine, even old friends at the Trinity suggested that
Guthrie was “thought by some” to have already “left the family.” Certainly, his visits to the Trinity were
less frequent due to his new touring and recording commitments. On the brighter side, manager Leventhal was
impressed by his young client’s professionalism. He told the New York Times, “Here’s a
kid who likes to sleep until 3:30 in the afternoon who had to make a 7:30 A.M.
movie call every day for three months of shooting, and he did.”
In
November of 2023 the University of Oklahoma Press published a biography of the
folk-rock singer in which he and I collaborated: Rising Son: The Life and
Music of Arlo Guthrie. Cinema
Retro editor Lee Pfeiffer asked if Arlo might be willing to share some
memories of his experience working on the Alice’s Restaurant film with
Arthur Penn. Though it’s been nearly
fifty-six years since production on the film began in June of 1968, Guthrie
graciously offered to share some of his remembrances of that time with
readers:
Q:
My first question to you is a pretty general one. As a kid growing up in the 1950s and early
‘60s, how would describe your interest in cinema? Were you a big fan of the movies? If so, what sort of films were you attracted
to?
Arlo: I wasn’t so much into films as I was more into TV
shows. Obviously, films that came out when I was a little older - the mid to
late 60s - had a bigger impact on me. “Bonnie & Clyde” for example.
Q:
What were you favorite TV programs? I
understand you were a big fan of Star Trek –
and just missed out on being cast on an episode. What was the story behind that?
Arlo: I got a phone call from Leonard Nimoy one time, out
of the blue! I couldn’t believe I was chatting with Spock! But I have no memory
of being asked to participate with Star Trek. **
Q:
I have a news-cutting from Variety reporting from your overseas
promotional tour for the Alice’s Restaurant film. In this case, from Paris in May of 1970. At the press conference you suggested that following the release of the Alice
film in the U.S. you were suddenly “offered ten films about hippies but
would prefer to do a western.”
Arlo:We didn’t do any promotional tours
in the US, as they were un-needed. But when I was asked to do a promotional
tour of Europe I jumped on it. I wanted to go to Europe. I had offers for more
acting roles, but mostly on TV shows that were popular at the time. Hawaii 5-O,
etc. But in those days everyone who had long hair was cast as a drug-addled
thief or a murderer. So I kindly
declined those invitations.
Q:
In any case, you did accept a number of television acting assignments in the
1990s. Our readers might recall your
reoccurring role as the graying-hippie Alan Moon on ABC’s Byrds
of Paradise. My
personal favorite of your television work was your role as a 1960s
folk-singing, Weather Underground-style fugitive on the Lorenzo Lamas series Renegade. How did those opportunities come about?
Arlo: I don’t remember exactly. But my
booking agents, David Helfant and later Paul Smith, made those roles possible.
Those offers came through their offices. I wasn’t looking for acting jobs.
(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)
Q:Since you are a musician first and foremost,I’d like to ask you a
few questions about the soundtrack accompanying the Alice’s Restaurant film. Prior to his work on Alice’s Restaurant, Gary Shermanwas the arranger and conductor for John
Barry’s soundtrack for Midnight Cowboy. On Alice’s Restaurant, Sherman is billed as “Musical Supervisor,”
credited as composer and arranger of the film’s “Additional music.” What exactly was Sherman’s contribution? Did
you work closely with him on the arrangements?
Arlo: Gary Sherman wasn’t very familiar with the kinds of
instruments I wanted to be used as a sound track. But he was very knowledgeable with regards as
to how music supported a film. We worked very closely together trying to
integrate our different skills.
Q:Fred Hellerman, the producer of your first two albums for Reprise - is
credited on screen as the film’s “Musical
Director.” What exactly was
Hellerman’s role in creating the soundtrack?
Arlo: Fred had some knowledge of the kinds of musical
instrumentation - and songs - I was into at the time. He may have worked with
Gary more than I was aware of, but I think the credit was more of an honorific
title.
Q:In Rising Son: The Life and Music of Arlo Guthrie, you recall your
enthusiasm of having partnered with John Pilla on the soundtrack sessions. Pilla, of course, would soon become the
“Spiritual Advisor,” producer and/or co-producer of all of your albums from Running
Down the Road (1969) through Someday (1986). What was it about this earlier collaboration
that made you so trusting of John as someone musically simpatico?
Arlo: John and I loved the traditional songs and
instruments that became the underlying sound track for the film. For example,
we made extensive use of the autoharp which had not been used before (or since)
in Hollywood movies.
Q:
Any particular fond (or perhaps not-so-fond) memories of working on the Alice’s Restaurant soundtrack sessions with
Pilla and Sherman?
Arlo: Arguing about music became the
hallmark of my collaboration with John Pilla. He was very traditional in his assessment of what was good while I was a
little too experimental. Gary was good at determining what worked. So between
us we arrived at a consensus.
Q:The Old Trinity Church is central to Arthur Penn’s imagining of the Alice’s Restaurant film. What role did Ray and Alice’s deconsecrated
church-home play in your life?
Arlo: I always felt very much at home at the church. Long
before we began working on the film, I had stayed there often. It wasn’t very
long after Thanksgiving 1965 that I was to spend more time traveling around and
less time at the church. Using the church as a central location was fabulous.
In the 1960s, musicians Ferrante & Teicher were the kings of cover versions of film score soundtracks. n record stores, racks were filled with their albums. In this June, 1964 segment from "The Ed Sullivan" show they perform Riz Ortolani's main theme from director Lewis Gilbert's Cold War political thriller "The 7th Dawn" which starred William Holden, Capucine and Tetsuro Tamba.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Kino Lorber. If you're politically correct, then stop reading now!:
Experience the golden age of burlesque in this titillating triple feature of 1950s grindhouse classics, newly restored from the original negatives. Pinup goddess Bettie Page shares the screen with striptease legend Tempest Storm in the holy grails of full-color burlesque films: Varietease (1954) and Teaserama (1955). Directed by girlie-pix impresario Irving Klaw, the dance card includes performances by strip queens Lili St. Cyr, tantalizing Trudy Wayne, and “female impersonator” Vickie Lynn, interspersed with obligatory appearances by baggy-pants comics and sunny songsters. Concluding the trilogy is Klaw’s Buxom Beautease (1956), which incorporates the short color film Striptease Revealed, and features incendiary performances by Blaze Starr and Dorian Dennis. Working in collaboration with Something Weird, the Sonney Amusement Enterprises Film Collection, and the UCLA Film & Television Archive, Kino Lorber has performed meticulous 4K restorations of these essential films, introducing them to a new generation of burlesque aficionados.
Product Extras :
4K Restorations of TEASERAMA and VARIETEASE from the 16mm Original Camera Negatives
4K Restoration of BUXOM BEAUTEASE from the 35mm Camera Negative and 16mm Materials
DISC 1: TEASERAMA
TEASERAMA – 4K Restoration
Audio Commentary by Jo Weldon, Author of The Burlesque Handbook
TEASERAMA – Something Weird Video Edition
Audio Commentary by David F. Friedman and Mike Vraney
BUXOM BEAUTEASE – 4K Restoration
TEASERAMA – Theatrical Trailer
BUXOM BEAUTEASE – Theatrical Trailer
DISC 2: VARIETEASE
VARIETEASE – 4K Restoration
Audio Commentary by Film Historian Alexandra Heller-Nicholas
VARIETEASE – Something Weird Video Edition
Audio Commentary by David F. Friedman and Mike Vraney
When
I was in college, my friend Bill Davis and I spent nearly half a day one
Saturday from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. at a local movie theatre for a ten-hour
marathon. The lineup included Sergio
Leone’s “A Fistful of Dollars,”
“For a Few Dollars More,” and “The Good, the Bad,
and the Ugly,” capped with Clint Eastwood’s American Western, “Hang ‘Em High,”
an attempt to replicate the Italian filmmaker’s violent, gritty style. It was the equivalent of binge-watching in
those long-ago days, before home video and streaming services made it easy to
access older films. To revisit favourite
movies in that Neolithic age, you had to hope they would return for second- or
third runs on the big screen, or wait until they resurfaced on TV in visually
degraded, ad-infested prints. The fact
that the Leone movies were still pulling in healthy ticket sales on rerun, four
years after their initial U.S. release, attests to their popularity. Aside from special events like the periodic
return of “Ben-Hur” or “The Ten Commandments,” the only other pictures with the
same level of second-run durability at the time were the first five James Bond
features with Sean Connery.
The
initial success and ongoing appeal of the Leone trilogy prompted Hollywood to
import other Spaghetti Westerns in hopes of matching (or at least approaching)
the same level of commercial success. The era ran from 1968 to the mid-1970s, surviving even the U.S.
box-office disaster of Leone’s fourth Western, “Once Upon a Time in the
West.” The operatic epic starring
Charles Bronson, Henry Fonda, and Jason Robards was lamely marketed here as a
conventional Western, baffling fans of John Wayne and “Gunsmoke.” Adding insult to injury, it suffered
wholesale cuts that rendered entire sections of the story incoherent. On smaller investments, more modest
imitations in the mode of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” fared better. One such picture was Giuseppe Colizzi’s
Western, I quattro dell'Ave Maria, a tremendous hit in
Europe. The Italian title cryptically
translates to “The Four of the Hail Mary,” which sounds more like a farce about
comedic nuns than a Western. Paramount
Pictures (the same studio that, ironically, mishandled “Once Upon a Time in the
West”) wisely retitled the production “Ace High” for U.S. release.
In
Colizzi’s film, bounty hunters Cat Stevens (Terence Hill) and Hutch Bessy (Bud
Spencer) ride into El Paso with $300,000 in stolen money recovered from train
robber Bill San Antonio. They intend to
turn in the money and claim a hefty reward. The Bill San Antonio back story referred to Colizzi’s previous Western
with Hill and Spencer, “God Forgives . . . I Don’t!” (1967; U.S. release,
1969), but you needn’t have seen the predecessor to get up to speed. Cat and Hutch discover that the bank
president in El Paso was Bill San Antonio’s partner, not his victim, and
instead of settling for the reward, they demand the entire $300,000, else
they’ll expose the banker’s secret. In
turn, the banker approaches an outlaw, Cacopoulos (Eli Wallach), who sits in
jail waiting to be hanged the next morning. He offers to free Caco (as the scruffy felon is called) if he’ll kill
Cat and Hutch.
This
being a Spaghetti Western, a genre that reveres double-crosses like no other,
thanks to the template set by Leone, Caco correctly guesses that the banker
plans to do away with him too, as soon as the bounty hunters are out of the
way. Grabbing the $300,000, he flees
town on his own quest for vengeance. The
money will finance his long-delayed pursuit of two former friends, Paco and
Drake, who left him to take the fall for a heist years before. Cat and Hutch follow after him to reclaim the
$300,000. Caco finds Paco south of the
Border, presiding over the summary execution of rebellious peons, and Drake
(Kevin McCarthy, in hardly more than a brief guest appearance) as the owner of
a lavish gambling house on the Mississippi. Drake is still a crook who swindles his rich patrons with a rigged
roulette wheel. Along the way, Caco and
the bounty hunters befriend a Black high-wire artist, Thomas (Brock Peters),
whose talent is pivotal for the bounty hunters’ scheme to break into the
impregnable casino to take control of the wheel and clean Drake out. Italian viewers probably realized that Caco,
Cat, Hutch, and Thomas were “the four of the Hail Mary” in Colizzi’s original
title, planning their break-in as Caco fingers his rosary. Following Sergio Leone’s lead, the Italian
Westerns loved to tweak Catholic piety.
Colizzi
also dutifully copies other elements of the Leone playbook, especially those
featured in “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Alliances are made to be broken, greed and expediency always overrule
loyalty, and the sins of thieves and hired killers are dwarfed by the inherent
corruption and callousness of society as a whole. But Colizzi’s cynicism seems superficial
compared with Leone’s, and his violence toned down. In the Leone movies, showdowns are “hideous
fantasies of sudden death,” to quote the late film critic Bosley Crowther, in
which the losers literally line up in groups to be gunned down. When my friend Bill and I watched the Leone
marathon all those years ago, we counted a hundred casualties even before we
were well into the third feature, “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” In one gunfight in “Ace High,” Hutch, Cat,
and Thomas simply shoot the hats off their opponents’ heads, the kind of
slapstick more likely to appear in a comedy Western with Bob Hope or Don
Knotts. The final shootout with Drake
and his henchman is a parody of Leone’s showdowns, which invariably were
choreographed to Ennio Morricone’s dramatic music. Caco has dreamed for years that his reckoning
with his traitorous partner would be accompanied by “slow, sweet” music, and so
Cat and Hutch order Drake’s house orchestra to play a waltz as the “Four of the
Hail Mary” square off against Drake and his henchmen. On one hand it’s a clever idea for viewers
who recognise the joke, but on the other, it trivialises the revenge motif in a
way Leone never would have.
In
another connective thread with “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” Eli Wallach’s
scruffy character is virtually a clone of his bandit “Tuco” from the Leone
epic, even to a nearly identical name. But Leone shrewdly counter-balanced Wallach’s manic performance with
Eastwood’s laconic presence and Lee Van Cleef’s steely menace. In “Ace High,” Colizzi already has two
mismatched characters who play off each other—Terence Hill’s terse, handsome
Cat and Bud Spencer’s burly, grouchy Hutch. Wallach is mostly left to his own Actors Studio devices of grins, tics,
and swagger, which is good for fans who couldn’t get enough Tuco but not so
good for others who just want the story to move on. Tied up by villagers who intend to torture
him to learn the location of his stolen $300,000, Caco relates a long,
soporific account of his childhood. The
scene serves a dramatic purpose, since Caco is trying to lull a drowsy guard to
sleep, but it goes on and on. You’re
likely to nod off before the sentry does.
“Ace High” is
available in a fine Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber Studio Classics, offering
Colizzi’s film at the correct 2.35:1 ratio in a rich Technicolor transfer. Films like this always looked good on the big
screen, but most casual fans probably remember them instead from lousy,
pan-and-scan TV prints in the old days. The Blu-ray includes the original trailer, plus trailers for several
other Spaghetti Westerns released by KL. The company’s go-to expert on the genre, Alex Cox, contributes a new
audio commentary. Cox has always been
forthright in his dour opinion of directors like Giuseppe Colizzi, Gianfranco
(Frank Kramer) Parolini, and Giuliano (Anthony Ascott) Carnimeo, who turned the
Italian Western in the direction of burlesque in the late 1960s, and away from
the gritty style of Sergio Leone, Sergio Corbucci, and Sergio Sollima. But his comments on “Ace High” are
even-handed, informative, and entertaining.
Director Mark Robson's film adaptation of the novel "Von Ryan's Express" is one of the best war films of its era. The trailer is also very good, if you can withstand the hokey, over-the-top narration!
Joe Jordan, the writer and
film historian who applied his prodigious research and keen analysis to acclaimed
books on the movies of Robert Wise and William Castle, has now focused his
critical acumen on one of Hollywood’s most legendary directors in “Magic Time:
The Films and Scripts of Billy Wilder.” (BearManor Media, 2023)
Born in 1906, Wilder worked
as a journalist before turning to film. He initially made his mark writing film
scripts in Germany before emigrating to America and pairing up with screenwriter
Charles Brackett on such classic pictures as “Midnight” (1939), “Ninotchka”
(1939) and “Ball of Fire” (1941). The two continued working together as Wilder
graduated to the director’s chair on “Double Indemnity” (1944), “The Lost
Weekend” (1945) and “Sunset Boulevard” (1950), before terminating their
partnership upon completion of the latter. Wilder then teamed with screenwriter
I.A.L. Diamond on another run of classics, inclusive of “Ace in the Hole”
(1951), “Some Like it Hot” (1959 and “The Apartment” (1960).
From the beginning to end of
his directing career, Wilder was an authentic auteur, one whose films were
easily identifiable by their visual elegance, sardonic wit and often-dark take
on human nature. Few were his equal at blending cynicism and romanticism. Wilder
maintained this distinctiveness over an extraordinary range of material—film
noir, screwball comedy, wartime thriller, courtroom drama, Cold War satire.
“Magic Time” is another
standout addition to the body of critical literature devoted to the great
filmmaker. Following the recipe of his book “Robert Wise: The Motion Pictures”
(2020), Jordan treats each film to its own chapter. Chapters 1 through 10 cover
the films Wilder worked on as screenwriter only; chapters 11 through 35 on
those he made as a director/writer. Jordan briefly describes the historical and
social context at the start of each new production—including Wilder’s personal
and professional circumstances, his state of mind, his thoughts about the
actors and crew—before launching into a lengthy comprehensive synopsis, leaving
out no detail or plot point. The effect is almost like watching the film unfold
in one’s mind, so if it’s been awhile since you’ve seen, say, “A Foreign
Affair” (1948), Jordan brings you up to speed as he touches on narrative, theme,
tone, performance—the total fabric of the film, liberally interspersed with
classic quotes courtesy of Wilder–Bracket or Wilder–Diamond.
Despite including an amazing
amount of exposition, detail, observation and analysis about each film, the
chapters are relatively brief, with Jordan’s insights and information delivered
in clear, user-friendly language. Thanks to its structure, one can read the book
straight through from start to finish, or simply open to a random chapter to get
a fun, fresh slant on a favorite Wilder film.
Even if you’ve seen a
particular film many times, Jordan can still surprise and enrich you with his
critical acumen. I thought I was on familiar terms with every narrative aspect
of “Sunset Boulevard,” which is in essence the story of three aspiring writers,
but I never gave much thought as to the myriad ways in which those three
narratives contrast and compete with one another, or the degree to which they
inform and direct the film’s overall narrative.
There are many such examples
embedded within this book. One cannot come away from reading it without having
gained new insight and appreciation for the classic Wilder films that we almost
know by heart. But if Jordan helps us see familiar favorites through new eyes,
he also makes a strong case for getting to know lesser-regarded Wilder films
such as “The Emperor Waltz” (1948) and “Fedora” (1978).
Jordan amusingly ends “Magic
Time” with an extended addendum titled “101 Motifs, Catchphrases and More (From
A to Z)” that rounds the book off in an offbeat manner, listing numerous recurring
narrative, object and dialog tropes—including Bolsheviks, catchphrases, card
games, cities in Ohio, close calls, monocles, sharing of cigarettes and more—that
can only be termed Wilderian.
Although Charles Bronson had been making movies for nearly 25 years and was quite popular in Europe, this international smash hit made him a superstar for the rest of his career. Michael Winner's provocative saga of a grieving father's vigilante vengeance became a Nixon-era touchstone that engendered four increasingly exploitative sequels over the next two decades. Hard to imagine what originally slated director Sidney Lumet would have made of this with Jack Lemmon in the lead.
As always, you can find more commentaries, more reviews, more podcasts, and more deep-dives into the films you don't know you love yet over on the Trailers From Hell mothership:
http://www.trailersfromhell.com
One
of the most iconic and influential movies ever made, ONCE UPON A
TIME IN THE WEST has been restored from the original 35mm Techniscope camera negative by Paramount’s archive team, L'Immagine Ritrovata and The
Film Foundation. This
restoration honors the 2007 Film Foundation photochemical restoration overseen
by legendary director Martin
Scorsese by matching its build and color palette. The
result is the definitive home release of the film, which features the
165-minute extended cut restored to its glory.
A
must-own for every cinephile’s collection, ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE
WEST will be presented in a Limited-Edition two-disc 4K Ultra
HD/Blu-ray™ set that includes both new and legacy bonus
content, as well as access to a Digital copy of the film. The film is
presented in Dolby Vision™* and HDR-10, along with English 5.1
DTS-HD Master Audio and English Restored Mono Dolby Digital for an exceptional
home viewing experience.
·Commentary
by the Hosts of the Spaghetti Western Podcast –NEW!
·A
Look Back with Leonard Maltin—NEW!
·Commentary
with contributions from directors John Carpenter, John Milius & Alex Cox,
film historians Sir Christopher Frayling & Dr. Sheldon Hall, and cast and
crew
Widely
considered to be one of the greatest Westerns—and one of the greatest
films—ever made, ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST was
selected for preservation by the Library of Congress in the U.S. National Film
Registry in 2009. The film stars Claudia Cardinale, Henry Fonda, Jason
Robards, and Charles Bronson.
Synopsis
Set
in the dying days of the Old West, a struggle to control water in a dusty
desert town embroils three hard-bitten gunmen in an epic clash of greed, honor,
and revenge.
ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST will also be available on
4K Ultra HD Digital on May 14.
This is a limited edition. Click here to pre-order now from Amazon.
A
very young Stanley Kubrick made his first feature film, Fear and Desire (called
The Shape of Fear during production and until it found a distributor),
at the age of twenty-two. It was very much a DIY production. In many ways
it is the epitome of early independent filmmaking, the kind in which a fellow
with a camera goes out to make a movie and then worries about finding a
studio to release it. The picture was financed by family and friends, written
by a school pal (future Broadway playwright Howard Sackler), and cast with
young, struggling New York actors who were willing to work for peanuts. Kubrick
produced and directed the movie, but he also photographed and edited it
himself, too. It took a year-and-a-half to finish, and then he went about
marketing it himself.
The
astonishing thing about all this is that Kubrick was operating on chutzpah.
While he had already made two documentary shorts, he was simply “winging it”
when it came to making a feature length fiction narrative film. What he had on
his side was his cinematographic capabilities. He knew cameras, lighting, and
composition like the back of his hand, for he had spent four years after high
school working as the youngest staff photographer for Look magazine in
New York creating narrative “photo essays,” almost the equivalent of
storyboards. Editing a movie, directing actors, and telling a good story was
another matter… and something he would eventually learn how to do.
Unfortunately, while Fear and Desire looks gorgeous and is indeed a
lesson in photographic composition and lighting, it fails on all the other
aspects of movie making.
Kubrick
himself disowned Fear and Desire not long after its release in 1953. In
fact, he attempted to acquire all existing prints, including the negative, and
burn them. Luckily for film historians and Kubrick aficionados, he was
unsuccessful. The copyright in the movie was owned by Kubrick’s uncle, Martin Perveler,
a fairly wealthy pharmacy owner in California who put up most of the money and
received Associate Producer credit. The feature had disappeared for decades and
was sometimes available on poor quality bootleg VHS tapes and DVDs. It was only
since Kubrick’s death in 1999 that today’s copyright owners and the Library of
Congress made the movie available. In the USA, Kino Lorber distributed
excellent quality DVD and Blu-ray editions several years ago. Now, Kino has
released new 4K UHD and Blu-ray versions of the film, including the original
70-minute premiere cut that hasn’t been seen since 1953. (After its premiere,
Kubrick cut about nine minutes for the theatrical release, limited as that was.
It was this 62-minute cut that has been the more familiar one to film buffs.)
Another
remarkable aspect about Fear and Desire is how ambitious it was.
Kubrick’s later, more mature works are often extremely existential in theme and
tone—they are big budget art films that challenge audiences to actually think
about what they’ve seen. Kubrick is big on ambiguity, symbolism, and metaphor
in all of his later, more well-known features. Right out of the gate, Kubrick
embarked to make an extremely non-commercial art film that deals with the
meaning of existence and the futility of war. While he would later succeed with
this kind of art house contemplative head scratcher, Fear and Desire unfortunately
comes off amateurish, pretentious, and painfully like a student film.
That
said, one who knows Kubrick’s work can see glimpses of the genius underneath
this early effort. What he was attempting is quite “Kubrickian,” and there are
moments and images that are indeed striking.
The
story is thus… A four-man platoon are fighting an unnamed war in an unnamed
country. They are lost in a forest behind enemy lines. The goal is to get back
to their side. When enemy combatants are spotted in a structure, the men decide
to strike one for the team and kill off the opposition. Weirdly, the enemy
general and his sidekick look just like the platoon’s lieutenant and private
(they’re played by the same actors). Whoa, profound! And, in typical
Kubrickian fashion, one man, another private (played by young Paul Mazursky,
who would go on to be a director of note himself) goes mad, nearly rapes a
civilian (Virginia Leith), and runs off like a banshee from hell. Will the
others make it back to “civilization?” Maybe. Maybe not. As the lieutenant
says, “We have nothing to lose but our futures.”
The
same could be applied to Stanley Kubrick’s first endeavor.
Besides
Mazursky and Leith, the other actors are Frank Silvera as the sergeant (if
anyone is the protagonist here, it’s him), Kenneth Harp as the lieutenant, and Steve
Coit as the first private. Silvera would go on to play the villain in Kubrick’s
next, also independently made, feature, Killer’s Kiss (1955). Kubrick’s
first wife, Toba, has a cameo as a fisherwoman (she and Kubrick had been high
school sweethearts). Toba also worked on the crew, but the stress of making a
first film with Stanley Kubrick destroyed their already unstable marriage.
Kubrick
had flown the cast and tiny crew from New York to California in the spring of
1951 and shot the film in the San Gabriel mountains. It then took him over a
year to raise the money to do all the post-production (mostly post-sync sound).
He submitted the 70-minute cut to the Venice Film Festival in August 1952,
where an unofficial premiere took place (he wasn’t present). Only in late 1952
did Kubrick meet the international film distributor Joseph Burstyn, perhaps the
important figure of art house cinema in America at that time. Burstyn agreed
to release the movie, and it had its official premiere in March 1953. It
received mostly negative reviews, which prompted the director to delete nine
minutes to tighten the feature. There were, however, a handful of very positive
notices from the likes of critics such as James Agee and Mark Van Doren, both
of whom recognized that there was undeniable talent buried within this strange,
unsettling movie.
Kino
Lorber’s new 2-disk release of the 4K restoration comes with a UHD disk and a
Blu-ray disk of both the 70-minute and 62-minute cuts. The longer cut is
accompanied by an audio commentary by film historian Eddy Von Mueller. The
shorter cut has an audio commentary by film historian/screenwriter Gary Gerani.
Von Mueller’s commentary is quite informative about the tortured history of the
film; however he makes several odd mistakes (he says the fisherwoman is
Kubrick’s sister, not wife; he says the star of Barry Lyndon is
“Patrick” O’Neal; and 2001: a Space Odyssey is from 1966, not 1968).
Gerani’s commentary covers much of the same ground with a different
perspective. Sadly, neither pinpoints the bits that were actually cut from the
longer version of the film. It’s up to us to figure it out (this reviewer finds
that some scenes in the first half of the movie were merely shortened… there
are no full scenes missing in the theatrical cut).
The
real treasure trove in this release is that for the first time, in the USA,
that is, we get Kubrick’s early short documentaries in high definition. Day
of the Fight (1951) and Flying Padre (1951) were only available as
bootlegs in bad quality. Only The Seafarers (1953) had been released on
home video prior. Now we have all of Kubrick’s early work on one gorgeous
release.
Kino’s
new Fear and Desire package is a must-have for Stanley Kubrick fans,
because looking past the feature’s shortcomings will reveal what would come
from the master filmmaker. It’s a fascinating step back into the auteur’s
young mind.
I’ve always loved action cinema. It’s one of
my all-time favorite genres. When I was a teenager in the mid-1980s, I saw a
VHS copy of the action film Bucktown
and I’ve been a huge fan of its star, Fred “The Hammer” Williamson, ever since.
A former pro football defensive back for
(amongst others) the Kansas City Chiefs (1965-1967), Williamson, who holds
black belts in Taekwondo, Kenp? and Shotokan karate, later moved on to acting.
Some of his first appearances was guest starring on TV shows such as Star Trek and Ironside. He quickly graduated to features, appearing in Robert
Altman’s M*A*S*H and Otto Preminger’s
Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon.
In 1970, Williamson starred in the
appropriately titled action movie Hammer (the
nickname was given to him during his football days). The film was a success and
it began his long and entertaining career as an action movie superstar. Standing
at 6ft. 3 inches tall and rarely seen without a prop cigar in his hand, Williamson
would go on to appear in a plethora of action classics (many of which were
distributed by major Hollywood studios) such as Black Caesar, Take a Hard Ride, Black Eye, Three the Hard Way,Mean Johnny Barrows (which he also
produced), and 1978’s Inglorious Bastards.
In 1976, the Hammer created his own company,
Po’ Boy Productions, which would not only see him star in, but also direct, a
ton of action films the likes of Death
Journey, No Way Back, Mr. Mean, Foxtrap, and The Kill Reflex. Williamson is also a veteran of Italian
exploitation cinema. He has appeared in the cult classics The New Barbarians, The New Gladiators, and Black Cobra 1-4. Just to name a few. In later years, he would act
in films such as From Dusk till Dawn
(for cinema titans Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino) and Original Gangstas (directed by the
legendary Larry Cohen and co-produced by Williamson) and he shows no signs of
slowing down.
Recently, the Hammer’s somewhat forgotten,
1973, action-packed, James Bond-like film
That Man Bolt was released on Blu-ray.
Solidly directed by David Lowell Rich and Henry
Levin from an entertaining screenplay by Ranald MacDougall and Charles Eric
Johnson, That Man Bolt tells the tale
of courier and martial arts expert Jefferson Bolt who is hired to transport a
million dollars from Hong Kong to Mexico City. However, Bolt soon realizes that
he’s been set up and now he’s dead set on paying back everyone who double-crossed
him.
Produced by Universal Pictures and released
in December of 1973, That Man Bolt,
aka Operation Hong Kong, is an
exciting adventure flick (sort of a 007/martial arts combo) which not only
contains well-crafted action sequences, but also some memorable characters
played wonderfully by its talented cast.
Leading the way, of course, is the always
charismatic Fred Williamson who convincingly plays the intelligent and capable
Jefferson Bolt. There are also appearances by familiar faces such as Byron
Webster, Miko Mayama, Teresa Graves, John Orchard, Jack Ging and Paul Mantee;
not to mention martial arts champions Mike Stone, Emil Farkas, David Chow and Kenji
Kazama. Enter the Dragon fans will
recognize Geoffrey Weeks who appears in a brief role, as well as the voice of
the great Keye Luke (who not only dubbed Shih Kien in Enter, but also performs the same duty here).
The fun film which was shot in L.A., Las
Vegas, Macau and Hong Kong, also features some terrific cinematography by Emmy
Award winner Gerald Finnerman, and a cool, Lalo Schifrin/John Barry-like musical
score by composer Charles Bernstein.
That Man Bolt has been released on
Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. The region one disc presents the movie in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. The 2K transfer looks gorgeous. The disc not only contains
the original theatrical trailer, but also
That Man Hammer, a short, but entertaining interview with Fred Williamson.
Overall, this is a highly enjoyable, early 70s action-adventure that definitely
deserves to be re-discovered. It’s also a very nice addition to your Fred
Williamson collection. And if you’re just beginning to get into the Hammer’s
filmography, That Man Bolt is a great
place to start.
“YOU
AREN’T REALLY ANYBODY IN AMERICA IF YOU’RE NOT ON TV”
By
Raymond Benson
While
Nicole Kidman had been working in films since the late 1980s and starred in two
big movies with future husband Tom Cruise in the early 1990s, for this reviewer
it was 1995’s To Die For that proved to the world that Kidman could hold
her own and carry a movie alone. Even with an impressive body of work that
would continue to today, To Die For can easily be listed as one of the
actor’s best works.
To
Die For is
based on a 1992 novel by Joyce Maynard, which, in turn, was a fictionalized
improvisation on the true-crime murder-for-hire case of Pamela Smart. The
murder of Smart’s husband by teenagers who were, as it turned out, hired by
Smart herself, was sensational TV fodder in 1990-1991. The keywords of
“sensational” and “TV” become the thematic concepts of Buck Henry’s adaptation
of the novel that turns the tabloid tale into an acerbic dark comedy about the
lust for fame and the means by which some people might employ to get it.
Gus
Van Sant directs the film with a bravura collage of styles that molds the story
into something of a mockumentary. Actors address the camera as if they are in a
television reality program (something that was just beginning to take off in
those years). Videotape footage mixes with film stock, emphasizing the fine
line between Suzanne Stone’s reality and fantasy life on television.
Stone
(Kidman) is a drop-dead gorgeous young woman with big ambitions. She wants fame
and fortune by being a television personality, and once she sets out to
accomplish that goal, her little hometown in New Hampshire will never be the
same. First she seduces and marries Larry (Matt Dillon), the son of Italian
parents who may or may not have connections to the mob. Larry is in a
successful restaurant business, so he has enough money to keep Suzanne in
style. Next, she finagles her way into the local cable TV news station, run by Ed
(Wayne Knight). When she begins a personal video project at the local high school,
she attracts the attention of three juvenile delinquents—Lydia (Alison
Folland), who isn’t a bad person but is sadly trapped in a “white trash” world,
Russell (a young Casey Affleck), the true bad-news of the trio, and Jimmy (a
young Joaquin Phoenix), who is short on brains but long on libido. Suzanne, who
feels resistance from Larry regarding her dreams to leave town and head to Los
Angeles where she’s convinced she can make it big, decides to seduce poor Jimmy
and get him and his friends to bump off Larry. To reveal more, which indeed
differs from the true case of Pamela Smart, would spoil the “fun.”
Yes,
“fun” it is. This is a comedy, folks. Sure, it’s a pretty dark one, but the
team of Van Sant and Henry make sure that this sordid little fable is told with
tongue-in-cheek. It’s also somewhat of a cautionary tale, warning us that what
we see on television isn’t always the truth. Those beautiful people on the
screen who anchor the news, interview celebrities, or present the weather are
not gods and goddesses. It’s one thing to work toward a career in television
with determination… it’s another thing altogether to think of that career as a
Xanadu in which everyone is rich and famous.
Nicole
Kidman is superb in To Die For. She’s funny, sexy, and at times very
scary. Kidman plays this madwoman to the hilt and she’s the backbone of the
movie. Apparently the role was first offered to Meg Ryan, who turned it down.
Kidman, however, takes it and delivers an exhilarating star turn. Phoenix, in
one of his early appearances, also makes an impression. At the time, who knew
that he would one day be a multiple Oscar contender and ultimate winner? The
same is true of Affleck. Other notable actors in the movie include Illeana
Douglas as Larry’s sister, Dan Hedaya as Larry’s father, and Kurtwood Smith and
Holland Taylor as Suzanne’s parents. The film also sports a few interesting
cameos: Joyce Maynard, the novel’s author, appears as Suzanne’s lawyer; Buck
Henry is a high school teacher; George Segal is a lecherous network executive;
and David Cronenberg (!) is a hitman.
The
Criterion Collection’s 2-disk package presents the film in a new 4K digital
restoration, approved by Van Sant and director of photography Eric Alan Edwards.
It comes with a 5.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack (and it makes Danny
Elfman’s lively score sound really good!). The first disk is the picture
in 4K UHD with Dolby Vision HDR. The second disk is a Blu-ray and the special
features. Disappointingly, there isn’t much in the way of supplements. An audio
commentary featuring Van Sant, Edwards, and editor Curtiss Clayton is good
enough. The only other extras are some deleted scenes (some of which
tantalizingly depict how the film might have had alternate endings) and the
theatrical trailer. An essay by film critic Jessica Kiang accompanies the
booklet.
To
Die For is
for fans of Nicole Kidman, Joachin Phoenix, and the caustic mind of Buck Henry.
Here's a gem from the web site studdblog.blogspot, which specializes in reproducing old newspaper ads of local American theaters from decades past. This one comes from the Sky Vue Drive-in, though we aren't sure where it was located. This particular double-feature combines two Sean Connery films- the latest (at the time in 1971) James Bond blockbuster "Diamonds are Forever" paired with Connery's ill-fated but impressive historical Arctic adventure "The Red Tent". According to the ad, Connery's co-star in the latter film was the legendary "Claudia Capdinale"! (As publishers, we sympathize with anyone who has to deal with typos!) Most impressive was the ticket price: two major films for $1.25. That was a bargain even in 1971!
The late, legendary New York City sports columnist Jimmy Cannon was known to quip, "Nobody asked me, but..." and then provide his thoughts about whatever was on his mind. In that spirit, nobody asked me but I'll weigh in on the 96th Annual Academy Awards broadcast from last evening. Reviewing the Oscar ceremonies is like shooting fish in a barrel in that there are always aspects of a production of this size that will inevitably be justly criticized. However, no matter how in vogue it is to bash the Oscars, regular readers of Cinema Retro know that I've tried to maintain objectivity. Here are my random observations:
Host Jimmy Kimmel did a decent job, as he had in the past. The Academy long ago abandoned ensuring that the host of the ceremonies has a background in the film industry. That went out the window when long-time host Bob Hope was replaced by Johnny Carson, whose brilliant timing resulted in higher ratings. Carson had the gig for quite some time and a variety of hosts followed, with Billy Crystal being the most popular. Kimmel is probably not well known in certain areas of the globe but his late night chat show is very popular in the U.S. That makes for both good and bad news. The good is that Kimmel is quick-witted and can improvise cleverly. The bad news is that he keeps shoehorning comedy bits into the broadcast that would be suitable for his TV show but still seem out of place on the Oscar presentations. There were mercifully fewer of these transgressions this year and the same can be said with the atrocious "spontaneous" banter between presenters, which was kept to a minimum.
I confess that I never watch the red carpet pre-show simply because of the vacuous banter ("Who are you wearing tonight?") but in general, outrageous attention-getting outfits were not on display. The ladies all looked very glamorous and most of the male stars were nattily attired in traditional black tuxes, although a number of them chose to wear open collar shirts and no ties. I guess that was to show non-conformity but some of them looked like the guys I used to see in the late 1970s queueing outside of Studio 54. (Full disclosure: I'm not a slave to fashion myself and as I write this, I am sporting a T shirt with an image of Shemp Howard imprinted on it.)
The event had its share of big names in attendance but for many years it has been noted that some of the diminishing ranks of living legends rarely attend the ceremonies unless they are nominated. Yes, we had Steven Spielberg there to present the Best Director award and Arnold Schwarzenegger was reunited with his "twin", Danny DeVito, for some amusing moments. Al Pacino attended to announce the Best Picture award but he did so in a cursory and confusing manner that undercut the impact of his appearance. There were no signs of the likes of Meryl Streep, Anthony Hopkins, Tom Hanks, Barbra Streisand, Harrison Ford or Denzel Washington. Robert De Niro and Jodie Foster were in attendance, as was Martin Scorsese, as they were all up for awards, though none won. It was astutely pointed out that De Niro and Foster had been in the auditorium before on the same night back in 1977 when they were both nominated for Scorsese's "Taxi Driver". Regarding Scorsese's "Killers of the Flower Moon", his acclaimed film was shut out of any wins, the momentum having switched to "Oppenheimer". Similarly, last year's most popular movie, "Barbie", only won for Best Song. I must admit that while I thought the film's concept and execution were clever, I was not swept up by enthusiasm for the film. But then again, I doubt that men in the late late sixties were the demographic target for the marketing campaign.
It was an innovative idea to have previous winners introduce the nominated actors in their respective categories. Another nice touch was the homage paid to union members who work behind the scenes on film productions. We also learned that there were finally be Oscar recognition for casting directors, though the process might be a challenge in terms of deciding who exactly was the responsible party for casting certain actors, given that producers and studio executives have a say in the process. There was also a good video segment that paid tribute to the importance of stunt people throughout movie history. Acceptance speeches were fine, and the pace was brisk. The show had started earlier this year and, amazingly, ended up finishing on time.
The "In Memoriam" segment was the worst ever. This ritual and the controversies about it had inspired a major Washington Post article that ran a couple of days before the ceremonies. I gave up trying to figure out all the notable people were not mentioned and the staging was awful. The cameras concentrated on the elaborate settings and musicians, with photos of the dearly departed shown on a screen in the background. Most of the images were pretty pretty small even on today's giant-sized TVs and people who were not instantly recognizable had their credits line too tiny to read. Why can't the Academy get this right? TCM certainly does with its annual in memoriam video. They ought to just buy the rights to that.
The songs were all pleasant enough, but none of them particularly memorable.
A highlight of Oscar ceremonies used to be the presentation of honorary Oscars to legendary figures in the industry. The Academy decided with was all too superfluous and years ago relegated the honorees to brief film clips from a separate ceremony. This year, even that cursory effort was no longer included. Instead, we were told to scan a code on the TV screen in order to watch these honorees receive their Oscars. What a wasted opportunity. Mel Brooks was among those honored and the mind reels at how wonderful it would have been to see him receive the award on live TV. As a public service, we are presenting his speech below.
Politics were present, as usual, but kept somewhat restrained. There were references to the Israel/Gaza crisis and a moving and heartfelt speech by Ukrainian director Mstyslav Chernov in which he pleaded that peace might finally come to his beleaguered country. It earned a standing ovation, but unfortunately these people can't move the aid package through Congress. At the end of the show, Jimmy Kimmel read a social media posting by Donald Trump in which he eviscerated the host's performance on the show. Kimmel's reply may have been witty but if he really wanted to one-up the former president, he wouldn't have mentioned him at all. It would be nice if politics didn't play a part in these ceremonies, but that hasn't been the case in decades and with political tensions higher than they have been in the U.S. since the late 1960s, it's doubtful the Oscars will ever again be a telecast that brings people together in a common love of movies.
It was nice to see a Godzilla movie get Oscar recognition and I thought I could hear the cheering in Tokyo in my living room.
In my opinion, this was one of the better Oscar telecasts of recent years, even without Will Smith on hand to provide some spontaneous action.
Here's a blog devoted entirely to director William Friedkin's 1977 masterpiece "Sorcerer". The film bombed with critics and the public when first released but has acquired an enthusiastic following over the decades. Friedkin told Cinema Retro that it was his favorite among all of his films. (See issue #29 for an exclusive interview with Friedkin about the film.) The web site showcases a really cool "Sorcerer" T shirt.
TCM – Thursday, March 7, 2024 - Turner Classic Movies (TCM) today announced a new limited series, Two for One, that will feature 12 nights of double features curated by some of the most celebrated filmmakers in Hollywood beginning April 6. TCM Primetime Host Ben Mankiewicz will be joined by each director, including Steven Spielberg, Patty Jenkins, and Spike Lee, to introduce the two films they chose. They will offer commentary on the double feature’s cultural significance, its influence on other films, behind-the-scenes stories, and their own personal reflections.
“This was such an eclectic group of filmmakers to sit down with, which was invigorating, from Martin Scorsese talking about a Robert Mitchum western, to Spike Lee discussing Elia Kazan, to Olivia Wilde’s breakdown of Rosalind Russell in Auntie Mame,” said Ben Mankiewicz. “In these double features, these 12 directors lead us on an insider’s journey through cinematic history.”
Two for One which airs every Saturday night, premieres April 6 at 8PM (ET).
Two Films. One Filmmaker. Countless Perspectives. Below is the complete film schedule:
Saturday, April 6 | Martin Scorsese - Blood on the Moon (1948) & One Touch of Venus (1948)
The first African-American to direct a major film for a Hollywood
studio was Gordon Parks, whose feature film debut "The Learning Tree"
was released in 1969. Parks may have shattered the glass ceiling but
there wasn't a tidal wave of opportunities that immediately opened for
other minority filmmakers, in part because there were so few with any
formal training in the art. One beneficiary of Parks' achievement was
Ossie Davis, who was internationally respected as a well-rounded artist.
He was a triple threat: actor, director and writer but his directing
skills had been relegated to the stage. In 1970 Davis co-wrote the
screenplay for and directed "Cotton Comes to Harlem", a major production
for United Artists. The film was based on a novel by African-American
writer Chester Himes and proved to be pivotal in ushering in what became
known as the Blaxploitation genre. In reality, it's debatable whether
"Cotton" really is a Blaxploitation film. While most of the major roles
are played by Black actors, the term "Blaxploitation" has largely come
to symbolize the kinds of goofy, low-budget films that are fondly
remembered as guilty pleasures. However, "Cotton"- like Gordon Parks's
"Shaft" films which would follow- boasts first class production values
and top talent both in front of and behind the cameras. Regardless, the
movie had sufficient impact at the boxoffice to inspire a seemingly
endless barrage of Black-oriented American films that were all the rage
from the early to mid-1970s. The Blaxploitation fever burned briefly but
shone brightly and opened many doors for minority actors.
The film was shot when New York City was in the midst of a
precipitous decline in terms of quality of life. Crime was soaring, the
infrastructure was aging and the city itself would be on the verge of
bankruptcy a few years later. Harlem was among the hardest hit areas in
terms of the economy. The once dazzling jewel of a neighborhood had
boasted popular nightclubs, theaters and restaurants that attracted
affluent white patrons. By the mid-to-late 1960s, however, that had
changed radically. Street crimes, organized gangs and the drug culture
spread rapidly, making Harlem a very dangerous place to be. It was
foreboding enough if you were Black but it was considered a "Forbidden
Zone" for most white people, who spent their money elsewhere, thus
exacerbating the decline of the neighborhoods. "Cotton Comes to Harlem"
serves as an interesting time capsule of what life was like in the area,
having been shot during this period of decline. Director Davis was
considered royalty in Harlem. Despite his success in show business, he
and his equally acclaimed wife, actress Ruby Dee, never "went
Hollywood". They stayed in the community and worked hard to improve the
environment. Thus, Davis was perfectly suited to capture the action on
the streets in a manner that played authentically on screen. Similarly,
he had a real feel for the local population. As with any major urban
area, Harlem undoubtedly had its share of amusing eccentrics and Davis
populates the movie with plenty of such characters.
The film opens with a major rally held by Rev. Deke O'Malley (Calvin
Lockhart), a local guy who made good and who is idolized by the
population of Harlem. O'Malley is a smooth-talking, charismatic con man
in the mode of the notorious Reverend Ike who uses religion as a facade
to rip off gullible followers. This time, O'Malley has launched a "Back
to Africa" campaign for which he is soliciting funds. It's based on the
absurd premise that he will be able to finance disgruntled Harlem
residents back to the land of their ancestry. The hard-working,
semi-impoverished locals end up donating $87,000 in cash but the rally
is interrupted by a daring daytime robbery. An armored car filled with
masked men armed with heavy weaponry descend upon the goings-on, loot
the cashbox and take off. They are pursued by two street-wise local
cops, "Grave Digger" Jones (Godfrey Cambridge) and his partner "Coffin"
Ed Johnson (Raymond St. Jacques). Davis provides an exciting and
colorful car chase through the streets of Harlem, as the cops fail to
snag the robbers. They also discover that O'Malley has gone missing,
leading them to believe that he orchestrated the heist himself so he
could keep the proceeds raised at the rally. The plot becomes rather
convoluted, as Jones and Johnson learn that a bale of cotton has arrived
in Harlem and its somehow connected to the crime. They assume that the
stolen money has been stashed in said cotton bale, which quickly changes
hands among the most unsavory characters in the community. Getting in
on the action is a white mob boss and his goons who are also trying to
recover the cotton bale. The cotton itself is resented in Harlem because
of its historical links to slavery and by the end of the film, the bale
ends up in a stage show at the famed Apollo Theater where it is used as
a prop in a bizarre production that involves historical observations
about the black experience intermingled with a striptease act! Through
it all, Jones and Johnson doggedly chase any number of people through
the streets, engage in shoot-outs and car chases and come in and out of
contact with Rev. O'Malley, who professes his innocence about being
involved in the robbery. The Rev isn't so innocent when it comes to
other unscrupulous activities such as chronically cheating on his
long-suffering girlfriend Iris (Judy Pace) and manipulating other women
in a variety of ways.
The most delightful aspect of the film is the showcasing of some very
diverse talents of the era. Godfrey Cambridge (who made it big as a
stand-up comic) and Raymond St. Jacques enjoy considerable on-screen
chemistry even if the script deprives them of the kind of witty dialogue
that would have enhanced their scenes together. They make wisecracks
all the time and harass some less-than-savory characters but the
screenplay never truly capitalizes on Cambridge's comedic potential. The
film's most impressive performance comes from Calvin Lockhart, who
perfectly captures the traits of phony, larger-than-life "preachers".
He's all flashy good looks, gaudy outfits and narcissistic behavior.
Lockhart seems to be having a ball playing this character and the screen
ignites every time he appears. There are some nice turns by other good
character actors including pre-"Sanford and Son" Redd Foxx, who figures
in the film's amusing "sting-in-the-tail" ending, John Anderson as the
exasperated white captain of a Harlem police station that is constantly
on the verge of being besieged by local activists, Lou Jacobi as a junk
dealer, Cleavon Little as a local eccentric, J.D. Canon as a mob hit man
and Dick Sabol as a goofy white cop who suffers humiliation from
virtually everyone (which is sort of a payback for the decades in which
Black characters were routinely used as comic foils). The film has a
surprisingly contemporary feel about it, save for a few garish fashions
from the 1970s. It's also rather nostalgic to hear genuine soul music
peppered through the soundtrack in this pre-rap era. Happily, life has
not imitated art in the years since the film was released. Harlem has
been undergoing the kind of Renaissance that would have seemed
unimaginable in 1970. The old glory has come back strong and the center
of the neighorhood, 125th Street, is vibrant and thriving once again.
These societal perspectives make watching "Cotton Comes to Harlem"
enjoyable on an entirely different level than simply an amusing crime
comedy.
The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, available for subscription through Amazon Prime.
If the 1960s was the era of spy movie mania, the 1970s was an era of "rogue cop" movies. Seemingly everyone was in on the act and that included John Wayne, who teamed with director John Sturges for the first and only time for "McQ". The Duke played a Seattle detective who is combating corruption in the police department. The film boasted a good script and a fine supporting cast. Here's a highlight from the film. (Lee Pfeiffer)
"I Love You, Alice B. Toklas" might leaving contemporary viewers asking "Who is Alice B. Toklas?" The answer: she was a companion of writer Gertrude Stein. Toklas was a fellow writer who became idolized by pop culture addicts for daring to have written a cookbook that included a recipe for pot brownies. The 1968 big screen farce was anything but fun to make. Paul Mazursky and Larry Tucker were to have made their directorial debuts with this film. However, once Peter Sellers was signed to star, the mercurial and unpredictable actor had them bounced from the directors chair(s), though their screenplay was retained. Shortly after production began, Sellers brought Mazursky back on board to offer advice about salvaging a production that Sellers was growing increasingly leery about. The truce was short-lived because Mazursky criticized the way Sellers played a love scene with Leigh Taylor-Young, who made her big screen debut in the film. Mazursky was fired again as the film hobbled through production under the direction of Hy Averback. Sellers was apparently also feuding with his wife, Britt Ekland, who was simultaneously filming "The Night They Raided Minsky's" against Sellers' wishes.
The story presents Sellers as Harold Fine, an L.A. lawyer and self-described "square". He is courting his law firm's secretary, Joyce (Joyce Van Patten), an amiable bubble-head who constantly pressures Harold into proposing to her. He finally relents and a wedding date is set, much to the delight of Harold's parents (amusingly played by Jo Van Fleet and Salem Ludwig). In the meantime, Harold finds himself unexpectedly immersed in the local hippie culture when his car is damaged and he finds the only accessible vehicle is a flower-powered decorated loaner he gets from the repair shop. At the same time, his hippie brother Herbie (David Arkin) introduces him to the gorgeous Nancy (Leigh Taylor-Young), a free-spirited young woman who indulges in drugs and free love. Harold finds himself smitten by her and when she leaves him some pot-laced brownies, it results in the film's funniest scene in which Harold ends up serving them to his parents and Joyce, resulting in the kind of over-reaction one might attribute to a tab of LSD. Nevertheless, it is quite an amusing segment. Ultimately, Harold leaves Joyce at the synagogue seconds before taking the vow of marriage. He dashes home and vows to start a new life with Nancy. Before long, he is sporting long hair, mod eyeglasses and is living in his car. It seems perfect until the screenplay predictably delves into one of those scenarios in which the motto is "Be careful what you wish for- you just may get it!".
Sellers is the glue that holds the fragile premise together, even if his American accent slips every now and then. Taylor-Young makes for a lovely leading lady and Joyce Van Patten is stuck in the role of constantly jilted lover who craves Harold no matter how many times he humiliates her. Unfortunately, the premise wears thin pretty quickly and the movie is never as funny as it should be or you expect it to be. In fact, it bears a certain resemblance to Blake Edwards' "The Party", which was released the same year. Both films were based on an initially funny scenario that ultimately ran out of steam as the movie wore on. At the time, Roger Ebert reviewed the film favorably but pointed out that it was another example of a Hollywood studio punting when it came to presenting the hippie culture and depicting the rebellious young people as sanitized caricatures. Perhaps the biggest laugh to be had was by Paul Mazursky, who would direct the smash hit "Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice" the following year, thus establishing himself as a major name in the film industry.
The region-free Warner Archive boasts a fine transfer. The only bonus feature is the trailer.
In this rare promotional interview posted by the Harry Palmer Movie Site, Oscar Homolka discusses his role as Colonel Stok in the 1967 film "Billion Dollar Brain", starring Michael Caine in the third and last of the Palmer feature films made for theatrical release. Homolka had appeared as the same character in the previous film, "Funeral in Berlin".
The conventional wisdom is that physical media (DVDs, Blu-rays) is in a death spiral in the age of streaming. In article for the BBC's web site, writer Claire Thorp makes the case for treasuring physical media. Let's face it: streaming is great, but as the article points out, your "ownership" of your favorite videos is tentative, subject to them vanishing without warning due to licensing expiration situations and other factors. Additionally, streaming can't provide those great bonus extras collectors treasure. The article advises that the only way to permanently possess these treasured films is to own them outright. Click here to read.
Alfred Hitchcock has been a huge influence on my life, ever
since I saw my first Hitchcock film,I Confess, at the age of 10 years
old. I was immediately struck by the moral ambiguity of the film and the
conflicted viewpoint of the central character, a priest, played by Montgomery
Clift. Although I wasn’t aware of camera angles, film theory and mise-en-scene
at the time, I could sense a gripping plot, characterisations and camera
movement.
Since then, I’ve written four books on Hitchcock, the Master of
Suspense. Two books are on the making of specific films,The
BirdsandMarnie,
which were made in the early 1960s and have a close production history because
they had shared screenwriters and production crew; and a more general book
calledAlfred Hitchcock’s Movie Making Masterclass,
which is about all of his films, for aspiring screenwriters and film makers. My
latest book Alfred Hitchcock Storyboards, is as the name suggests, a
celebration of Hitchcock’s visual art and storyboarding in collaboration with
key production illustrators, storyboard artists and set designers.
When I was writing my first
Hitchcock book, “Hitchcock and the making of Marnie”, 25 years ago now, I was
excited to see the extensive storyboards for the racetrack and hunt sequence at
Margaret Herrick Library, part of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and
Sciences in Los Angeles. I was immediately impressed about the level of detail.
I was lucky enough to interview the production designer Robert Boyle and
storyboard artist Harold Michelson who had a wealth of knowledge and memories
about working onThe BirdsandMarnieand I knew that was just the start. Because
this is my fourth book on Hitchcock, the Estate gave me permission to reproduce
them which is very exciting to share with readers today.
As Hitchcock directed 52 films in his career, I couldn’t include
every film or storyboard, so I decided to focus on a selection of films which
are representative of Hitchcock’s 60 year career. So I chose The 39 Steps, Shadow of a
Doubt, Spellbound, Vertigo, North by
Northwest, Psycho, The Birds, Marnie and Torn
Curtain. These films span Hitchcock’s early British period to one of his
last films he made at Universal Studios in Hollywood. Teaming up with Titan
Books who specialise in art and film books, I’m pleased to say that the coffee-table
book includes never-before-published images, especially from The 39 Steps,
Marnie and Torn Curtain. I was also able to feature some of the
art directors, production designers and illustrators who worked on these films,
including the more celebrated ones like Salvador Dali who Hitchcock hired for
designing the Spellbound dream sequence.
(Photo: Tony Lee Moral)
Through
storyboarding each scene, Hitchcock, likened the beats in a film to the notes
on a sheet of music being conducted by an orchestra. Hitchcock was a very
technical director and was keen to manipulate the audience’s emotions, the
highs and lows, and storyboards were central to his practice. Think about the
shower scene in Psycho, the crop duster attack in North by
Northwest and the crows gathering silently on the jungle gym in The
Birds, they are all examples of carefully orchestrated storyboards.
Studying
the storyboards definitely opened my eyes to films which I hadn’t focused on
before such as Shadow of a Doubt and Spellbound,
and what was apparent was the level of detail from both Hitchcock’s early films
and his move to Hollywood. In Shadow of a Doubt, storyboarding and
set design are very important to show a typical American family and the chaos
that erupts when a sinister force, in this case Uncle Charlie, comes to visit. Spellbound is
another film where the dream sequence was storyboarded and Hitchcock was very
interested in dream theory and analysis. There’s also a great behind the scenes
story I discovered about some lost and found Salvador Dali art for Spellbound.
But you’ll have to read the book for that story.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
Legendary director Don Siegel (Dirty
Harry) directs the iconic John Wayne as an ageing gunfighter dying of cancer in
his final screen appearance, a superb adaptation of Glendon Swarthout's classic
western novel, The Shootist.
John Bernard Books is the stuff of
legend, a renowned 'shootist' whose reputation looms large. But it's 1901, and
like the old west, John is dying and a reputation like his draws trouble like
an outhouse draws flies. As word spreads that the famous gunfighter is on his
last legs, the vultures begin to gather; old enemies, the marshal, newspaper
men, an undertaker, all eager to see him dead. Other men might die quietly in
bed or take their own lives, but J. B. Books will choose his executioner and
face down death with a pistol in each hand.
With an outstanding cast that
features not only Wayne, but James Stewart, Lauren Bacall, Ron Howard, Scatman
Crothers and John Carradine, The Shootist is an elegiac ode to a monumental
screen presence and to the Western genre itself.
Bonus Materials
·New 2K remaster by Arrow
Films from the original 35mm camera negative
·High Definition Blu-ray
(1080p) presentation
·Original lossless mono
audio
·Optional English
Subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
·Brand new audio
commentary by filmmaker and critic Howard S. Berger
·The Last Day, a new
visual essay by film critic David Cairns
·A Man-Making Moment, a
new interview with Western author C. Courtney Joyner
·Laments of the West, a
new appreciation of Elmer Bernstein’s score by film historian and composer Neil
Brand
·Contemplating John
Wayne: The Death of a Cowboy, a new visual essay by filmmaker and critic Scout
Tafoya
·The Shootist: The Legend
Lives On, archival featurette
·Theatrical trailer
·Image gallery
·Reversible sleeve
featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban Rodríguez
·Double-sided fold-out
poster featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban
Rodríguez
·Six postcard-sized lobby
card reproductions
·Illustrated collector’s
booklet featuring new writing by film critic Philip Kemp
This Blu-ray will be released on March 12. Click here to order from Amazon.
One of the UK’s most beloved film franchises
has been somewhat neglected of late. Despite decades of television reruns,
since the DVD boxset release over a decade ago there has been no sign of any
sort of upgrade of the ‘Carry On ‘films, which, if there were any justice,
would have been raised to Criterion levels by now. Remarkably this is still the
case in the UK, so thankfully Australian company Via Vision Entertainment have
taken a firm grip of the baton and begun releasing the ‘Carry On’ films in
series order, four at a time. The first eight films in the series were mostly shot
in black and white and based around everyday life, such as military service,
the healthcare system, schools, the police, cruise holidays, and the beginnings
of second-wave feminism (Carry On Cabby (1963), if you’re wondering). But
then Peter Rogers, the producer and brains behind the series, had the fabulous
idea to begin making period dramas and spoofs of current hits. Carry On Jack
(1964), about pirates, was the first of these, and with that move, in my
opinion, the ‘Carry On’ films really hit their creative and comedic peak.
This means that ‘Carry On... Collection 3’
contains arguably the four best films in the entire franchise (although I know some
fans would beg to differ): Carry On Spying (1964), Carry On Cleo
(1964), Carry On Cowboy (1965) and Carry
On Screaming (1966).
Carry On Spying
(1964), the last one shot in black-and-white and the first to directly spoof
genre conventions, has perhaps been forgotten in favour of the more smutty ‘Carry
On’ films that followed later. Starring regulars Bernard Cribbins, Kenneth
Williams, Charles Hawtrey, and introducing newcomer Barbara Windsor as Daphne
Honeybutt, a name even Ian Fleming would have been proud of. Far from being the
giggling saucepot she would later be known for, Windsor’s character here is
brave, intelligent and forthright, more than once saving the mission and her
hopeless compatriots. Hot on the heels of From Russia with Love (1963), the
film is a hilarious and almost spot-on spoof of the budding James Bond
franchise (Cubby Broccoli objected to one character being called Agent 009½ so they
were reluctantly renamed 000), coming before the flood of Eurospy films that
would take all sorts of liberties with Bond a couple of years later. Shot at
Pinewood Studios, already the home of Bond, it is unsurprising that the sets here
are very close to Ken Adam’s designs, especially the secret underground
headquarters of STENCH, led by the evil Doctor Crow, and were probably built
and lit by many of the same technicians. The cast, with Kenneth Wiliams taking
a rare lead role, are a joy. Williams, who would often be cast as pompous,
arrogant authority types in later films, plays here his idiotic character made
famous in Hancock’s Half Hour, complete with his catchphrase “Stop
messing about!” The comedy is hilarious,
and as a Bond spoof it works very well as a standalone film for those who may
be unfamiliar with the charms of the ‘Carry On’ franchise. Naturally, given
that it is now sixty years old, some of the humour is a little painful,
reflecting some of the post-colonial attitudes of the time. But the odds are
that if you are Cinema Retro regular, you can probably handle it.
Carry On Cleo is
probably the franchise’s most lavish and high budget production, thanks to the
genius decision of Peter Rogers to move in on the abandoned Cleopatra sets
left behind at Pinewood when the disastrous Elizabeth Taylor production was
shipped off to Cinecittà in Rome to start again. With full access to sets,
props and costumes, Carry On Cleo looks a million dollars, and is also a
million times more entertaining than Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra. The
cast are fabulous, with Kenneth Williams in full arrogant mode as Caesar, Sid
James as the lecherous Mark Anthony, Jim Dale as an escaped English slave, but
most importantly with Amanda Barrie, who had an important role in Carry On
Cabby, as the beautiful and mesmerising Cleopatra. Whether in costumes
originally created for Liz Taylor, or bathing naked in ass's milk, she's simply
stunning. It has always been my favourite ‘Carry On’ film, packed with sight
gags, brilliant nods to the original film (20th Century Fox were
particularly furious at the original Carry On Cleo poster design which
mercilessly spoofed theirs) and wonderful sets and matte paintings. This was
the heyday of Pinewood Studios, and the skill and expertise on show here sets
it apart from the later, cheaper ‘Carry On ‘films shot mainly in muddy fields.
Carry On Cowboy
arrived just as the Spaghetti Westerns were getting started in Italy but owes
more to the prevalence of American western films and TV shows (Bonanza, Gunsmoke,
etc.), and is another clear spoof in the Carry On Spying mode. Genre
conventions are milked for all their comic potential, and the cast are
uniformly excellent, from Jim Dale’s accidental sheriff, Sid James as the
villainous Rumpo Kid, Charles Hawtrey as the whisky-addled Big Chief Heap, Joan
Sims as a prostitute with a heart of gold, Kenneth Williams as a cowardly mayor
and, in a reference to actual history, Angela Douglas as the first-rate shot
Annie Oakley. This is great fun, and not far removed from what Mel Brooks would
do less than ten years later, but without the fourth wall breaking.
The last film in the set is possibly the most
well known outside of the UK – Carry On Screaming. This time they had
Hammer Films firmly in their sights, with references to Frankenstein, Jekyll
and Hyde, spooky mansions and the sexiest of sexy vamps, all mixed together
with plenty of gags and a plot which borrows heavily from House of Wax
(1953), meaning Vincent Price gets a bit of a nod as well. In the lead role as Police
Sargeant Bung is Harry H. Corbett, making his only ‘Carry On’ appearance, but
he was an extremely popular comedy actor in the UK at the time thanks to his
starring role in the sitcom Steptoe and Son. Kenneth Williams plays the
undead Dr Watt (his name allowing for some “Who’s on first?”-type comedy confusion),
alongside Jim Dale, Angela Douglas, Joan Sims, Charles Hawtrey and the stunning
Fenella Fielding, who vamps for all she’s worth in a red dress so tight fitting
that she was unable to sit down between takes.
Across the films are appearances from other
‘Carry On’ favourites including Bernard Bresslaw, Kenneth Connor, Peter
Butterworth and a pre-Doctor Who Jon Pertwee, who in the early 1960s was
probably best known for doing funny voices on radio comedy shows like The
Navy Lark.
It’s wonderful to see these films restored
and available in HD at last. They look fantastic and remind us of what great
craftsmanship there was in British cinema in the 1960s, even at the cheaper end
of the production scale. This boxset also comes with a lovely booklet which
reproduces in full colour the original pressbooks for the first twelve ‘Carry
On’ films. They’re fascinating to look at, although you might need a magnifying
glass if you want to read some of them! Bonus features-wise, the sets are a bit
light, simply including original trailers for each film and the commentary
tracks which were recorded for the original DVD releases more than a decade
ago. Whilst it’s great to have these, and they are very entertaining (Fenella
Fielding has the kind of voice you could listen to all day), it would be great
to see some of the archival documentaries and interviews that have been shown
on TV over the years included too, or even commission the official ‘Carry On’
historian Robert Ross, whose new co-authored book Carry On Girls is also
excellent, to produce some new documentary material.
However, we physical media collectors are
spoiled these days and often expect too much! For the price, this boxset
delivers what we really want, which is excellent restorations of much-loved
British comedy gems. These really are the best of the series, and if you don’t
agree, in the immortal words of Sid James: “Knickers!”
You can order ‘Carry On Collection 3’ direct
from Via Vision here:
(A
previous edition of this film was released in 2017 by Classic Flix and was
reviewed on Cinema Retro in 2020. The film has been re-issued as a
“Special Edition” from Kino Lorber Studio Classics in 2024. Much of the
following review is repeated, but updated, from the earlier piece.)
A
sub-genre of film noir is that of the so-called “docu-noir,” a
crime drama usually based on a true story and told as a Dragnet-style
procedural. Most likely there is an omniscient voiceover narrator, a focus on
the lawmen who are investigating the case, and all the other stylistic and
thematic elements associated with film noir in general: starkly
contrasting black and white photography, urban locations, shadows, gritty
realism, angst and cynicism, and sometimes brutal violence.
Eagle-Lion
Films was a British/American production company that existed for only a few
years in the late 40s, disbanding in the early 50s. There was some talent
involved, and they produced a variety of genres and pictures of varying quality
(Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes was a rare Best Picture
nominee). Many of the studio’s pictures were films noir that were shot
as B-movies with low budgets and barebones casts and crews. Anthony Mann
directed a couple of their classic crime movies—T-Men and Raw Deal,
both of which fall into the “docu-noir” category. Unfortunately, due to bad
management or negligence, many of Eagle-Lion’s titles fell out of copyright and
currently reside in the public domain. Hence, one can often find bargain bin,
cheap knock-off DVDs and Blu-rays of these films.
He
Walked by Night
is a prime example of a quality presentation of an equally impressive little
movie. Made in 1948, Walked is a true story loosely based on the crime
spree by Erwin “Machine Gun” Walker, who shot cops and committed burglaries and
armed robberies in Los Angeles in the mid-40s. In real life, Walker was
arrested and sentenced to prison, but he was paroled in the 70s. This is not the
ending to the story that is depicted in the film.
A
young Richard Basehart portrays disturbed war veteran Roy Morgan, a habitual
burglar and armed robber. An off-duty cop on the street suspects Roy of being a
burglar. Roy shoots and kills him. The POV switches to the police, especially
Lt. Marty Brennan (Scott Brady), who is based on the investigator of the true
case. He is assisted by Captain Breen (Roy Roberts), and forensics man Lee
Whitey (Jack Webb, in an early screen appearance). The story follows the police
investigation juxtaposed with Morgan’s eccentric and lonely existence, and the
criminal’s increasingly violent crimes. The big break comes when a stolen item
is recovered by an electronics pawn dealer (Whit Bissell), who has been
unwittingly fencing for Morgan.
It’s
all engaging stuff, and Basehart delivers an outstanding, creepy performance as
Morgan. The police procedural sequences are done well, such as when a composite
drawing of the suspect is created by all the witnesses to the crimes. The
climactic set piece of a chase in LA’s sewer system is exciting, atmospheric,
and pure noir. Oddly, it is similar to the ending of The Third Man,
which was released a year later.
Even
though Alfred Werker is credited as director, audio commentary speculates that
Anthony Mann stepped in to helm some of the movie. Is it one of those Christian
Nyby/Howard Hawks (The Thing) or Tobe Hooper/Steven Spielberg (Poltergeist)
controversies? No one seems to know. He Walked by Night, however, does
contain several sequences—including the final sewer chase—that are stylistic
stamps of Mann. That said, much of the credit for the picture’s success goes to
celebrated noir cinematographer John Alton.
Another
sidebar related to the picture is Jack Webb’s meeting and further networking
with the picture’s technical adviser Detective Sergeant Marty Wynn. This led to
the ultimate creation of Dragnet as a radio and television show.
Kino
Lorber’s new Special Edition Blu-ray presents a 16-bit 4K scan of the 35mm fine
grain, and it looks quite wonderful, a remarkable step-up from other public
domain transfers that are out there. It comes with English subtitles for the
hearing impaired, as well as an audio commentary by biographer and producer
Alan K. Rode and writer/film historian Julie Kirgo. New to this Special Edition
is a second audio commentary by film historian Imogen Sara Smith.
Unfortunately, the Kino Lorber edition does not contain other supplements that
the previous Classic Flix edition did, nor the 24-page booklet that accompanied
that packaging.
For
fans of film noir, police procedurals, and gritty crime dramas, He
Walked by Night is a good time at the movies.
Woody Allen’s Chekhovian-titled Hannah and Her Sisters
(1986) is reportedly only twenty percent of what he actually wrote for the film
on his Olympia SM-3 typewriter, which he has owned for decades and written all
of his films on. Given how extraordinary this outing is, one can only wonder what
the remaining projected film would have looked like. Conceived of as his answer
to Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander (1982) which ran three hours
theatrically and nearly five-and-a-half hours on Swedish television as a
mini-series, Hannah is considered by many to be Mr. Allen’s finest hour,
although I am in the minority as I view Another Woman (1988) as his best
film, with Hannah coming in at a very close second.
Hannah is a sumptuous film, the first Woody Allen outing to be
photographed by the late great cinematographer Carlo
Di Palma who would go on to work on eleven more films with Mr. Allen. He
captures the visual splendor of New York and all its beauty and ugliness over a
two-year period between Thanksgiving holidays. It is also a family affair. Hannah
is a housewife/actress and is played wonderfully by Mia Farrow. Her parents are
her real-life mother, Maureen O’Sullivan, and actor Lloyd Nolan, who used to be
actors as well. Hannah is married to businessman Elliot (Michael Caine) and
they have a good number of children who are all played by Ms. Farrow’s and Mr.
Allen’s real-life adopted offspring. Hannah’s sisters consist of the
emotionally adrift Lee (Barbara Hershey), who is in a relationship of sorts
with the hermetic painter Frederick (Max von Sydow) and the actress-wanna-be Holly
(Dianne Weist) who always appears to be on the verge of a breakdown between
bouts of ingesting nicotine and alcohol following auditions. As with previous
Allen outings, especially his 1979 film Manhattan, Hannah revolves
around myriad romantic entanglements, but it is not all fun and games. Elliot
is intensely attracted to Lee who is a lost soul and is pulled to him thanks to
Frederick’s older age and insouciance. Holly and her actress friend April
(Carrie Fisher), with whom she runs a catering company to make ends meet, battle
it out for the affections of David (Sam Waterston), an erudite architect who
uses opera and fine wine as his tools of choice to woo them both.
As if this were not enough, Mickey (Woody Allen) is a television
producer/hypochondriac and is Hannah’s ex. He has a near-death experience when
he becomes convinced that he has a brain tumor and ponders the meaning of life,
questioning his parents and his co-worker played by Julie Kavner while also
looking to religion for answers, but stopping short after speaking with a Hare
Krishna, confirming the absurdity of shaving his head, wearing long robes, and
dancing around at airports. Though most of the action is that of a serious
theme (Crimes and Misdemeanors would take this to even further horrific
heights in 1989), the film also balances it with outright hilarity. The ending
is perhaps one of the most hopeful and positive in all the Woody Allen
filmography.
Hannah boasts two celebrated cinematic moments. The first occurs in a
restaurant among the sisters as Lee tries desperately to hide her affair from
Hannah who simultaneously attempts to talk Holly off the ledge when she announces
her decision to take off a year to try and find herself. The camera circles the
triumvirate in a 360-degree maneuver that illustrates Lee’s increasing
discomfort with the situation at hand as the tension mounts.
The second comes near the film’s end when Mickey notices Holly
perusing titles in Tower Records and engages in a humorous and heartfelt exchange
with her. The scene is done in one take and is a highlight.
Among Woody Allen fans the question has usually been which do they
prefer: Annie Hall (1977) or Manhattan (1979). They can add Hannah
to the mix. This was Ms. Farrow’s fifth outing with Mr. Allen and she does a
wonderful balancing act of being the confused wife of an adulterer and the
sister of a neurotic.
After being lensed in the fall of 1984, Hannah opened
nationwide on Friday, February 7, 1986 to near universal acclaim, leaving Mr.
Allen wondering how had he failed, the idea being that if you make something
that just about everyone loves, you must be making something that fails to be interesting
or challenging!
Hannah won Oscars for Best Original Screenplay for Woody Allen, Best
Supporting Actor for Michael Caine (who will never live down his unavailability
to accept the Oscar in person as he was away filming Jaws IV), and Best
Supporting Actress for Dianne Weist. It is one of his best-scored films,
boasting a soundtrack of both upbeat and melancholic tunes.
The film is available in a Region B Blu-ray from Fabulous Films, the
fine company that released Manhattan. The
source material is terrific and the film’s warmth shines through.
Click here to purchase this from Amazon’s UK site.
(A
previous 50th Anniversary edition of this film was released in 2018
by Kino Lorber and was reviewed on Cinema Retro in 2020. The film has
been re-issued on Blu-ray as a “Special Edition” in 2024. Much of the following
review is repeated, but updated, from the earlier piece.)
The
late director Norman Jewison, who passed away on January 20, 2024, was on a
roll in the late 1960s. After a handful of well-received small romantic
comedies, he directed The Cincinnati Kid (1965) featuring Steve McQueen as
a Depression-era poker player, followed by the Oscar Best Picture-nominated The
Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming (1966), and then the brilliant
In the Heat of the Night (1967), which did win the Best Picture
Oscar and landed Jewison a Director nomination.
His
next project became a heist picture/romance, the story of which was pitched to
him by Alan R. Trustman, a lawyer with no screenwriting experience. Jewison was
intrigued, so, according to the excellent interview with the director that
appears as a supplement on Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray edition of The Thomas
Crown Affair, he gave Trustman a crash course in how to write a movie
script. When it was completed, Jewison got the film green-lit.
When
Jewison’s agent—who also represented Steve McQueen—read the screenplay, he
suggested McQueen for the part. Even though the actor and director had gotten
along on Cincinnati Kid, Jewison admits that he didn’t think McQueen was
right for the role because the actor never wore suits. McQueen then met with
the director—wearing a suit—and convinced him that he could be Thomas Crown.
The
Thomas Crown Affair is
a stylish, twisty-turny, clever piece of 1968 pizazz. It emphasizes the
ultra-cool cosmopolitan and fancy lifestyle of the rich during the Mad Men era
when it was actually happening. The flashy camerawork and then-innovative
split-screen/multi-screen display of simultaneous action scenes was snappy and
unique. The brilliant main title designer, the late Pablo Ferro, is credited
for much of this work, and it is this visual technique that gives the movie its
pulse.
Crown
is a former banker in Boston, a happily wealthy playboy-sportsman who decides
to pull off a complicated bank heist simply because he can. He puts together a
team of individuals (including getaway driver Jack Weston) who don’t know each
other or him, and the gang meets only at the time of the robbery inside the
bank. Crown himself isn’t there. The heist is successful, and the mastermind
gets away with $2.6 million. Detective Malone (Paul Burke) is determined to
catch whoever was responsible, but the crime was too well thought out. No evidence
or clues were left behind. An insurance investigator, Vicki Anderson (Faye
Dunaway, in her first role post-Bonnie and Clyde), is brought in and she
immediately takes control of the operation, much to Malone’s chagrin. It
doesn’t take long for Crown to come under Vicki’s suspicions—so she sets out to
entrap him by, well, having an affair with him.
That’s
the plot in a nutshell. While much of it is seemingly improbable, the story is
told with conviction and such technical prowess that it’s hard not to go along
for the ride. Jewison’s handling of the heist itself and the romantic sequences
between the dual eye candy, McQueen and Dunaway, is masterful. Both actors are
fine in their roles; McQueen especially continues to exude the 60s cool that
was his trademark.
Kino
Lorber’s brand new 4K restoration looks quite good, and it comes with two audio
commentaries—one by Jewison himself, and the other by film historians Lem Dobbs
and the late Nick Redman. Supplements
include the previously mentioned interview with an aging Jewison, who was still
sharp and talkative, an interview with title designer and split-screen maestro
Ferro, and a vintage on-the-set featurette from 1967 with the cast and crew.
The original theatrical trailer, along with other Kino Lorber releases,
complete the disk.
The
Thomas Crown Affair was
remade by John McTiernan in 1999 with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo. Was it
better than the original? Maybe yes, maybe no. Only you can decide; but
consider this—the 1968 version has Steve McQueen, a young Faye Dunaway, a
variety of really hot and nifty sports cars, and an Oscar-winning title song,
“The Windmills of Your Mind” (remember that?)! Recommended.
I
have never understood religious cults, and I still don’t. How someone can
permit themselves to be brainwashed into following a self-appointed “religious
leader” and hang on their every word represents, to me, a soul searching for acceptance
or love that they believe has been denied them. My initiation into the existence
of cults was in the December 4, 1978 issues of both Time Magazine and Newsweek
Magazine. Their reports about the Jonestown murders in Guyana, which completely
shocked my sensibilities with images of dead adults and children lying face
down in filth, were the stuff of nightmares. This horrific event has spawned
books, documentaries, and jokes about “drinking the Kool Aid” when referencing one’s
blind commitment to a ridiculous situation. An article two months later in my
local newspaper about “witches,” pagan practices, bowls of blood and animal
ribcages in the woods less than ten miles from where I lived did little to assuage
my fears about them. David Koresh, the leader of the religious sect
referred to as the Branch Davidians, led his followers into the Mount Carmel
Center, a compound in Waco, Texas, which culminated in a standoff with law
enforcement in April 1993 with most of them dying in a storm of bullets and
fire. NXIVM, the organization founded by Keith Raniere five years later
masquerading as a self-help and personal development program group, came under
fire for being a cult following reports of sex trafficking of branded women.
Hollywood is no stranger to films about such
subjects. Most of them are cut from the cloth of genre and horror films. Split
Image (1982) is a bit of a different take on this terrifying subject as
seen through the eyes of suburbanites and therefore is far more relatable. Directed
by Ted Kotcheff between April and June in 1981 just before he unleashed John
Rambo on the world with his phenomenal First Blood, also released in
1982. Split Image was originally reported on under the title of Captured
when it was featured in the wonderful but short-lived bi-monthly movie magazine
published in 1982 called “Coming Attractions.” I saw the film on CED Videodisc nearly
40 years ago and was amazed at how little I recalled of it.
Danny Stetson (Michael O’Keefe of Lewis John
Carlino’s 1978 film The Great Santini) is a parallel bars athlete eyeing
college. He lives with his parents Kevin and Diane (Brian Dennehy and Elisabeth
Ashley) and younger brother Sean (Ronnie Scribner of Tobe Hooper’s 1979 TV-Movie
Salem’s Lot) in a sprawling house like the killer’s in Dario Argento’s Tenebrae
(1982), complete with large see-through windows and a built-in pool. By chance
he meets a beautiful young woman named Rebecca (Karen Allen of Steven
Spielberg’s Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981) who engages in small talk about
big subjects. Accompanying her to a weekend outing, he is introduced to scores
of people at a retreat called Homeland who welcome him with open arms –
literally – and who all chant and engage in reciting positive affirmations while
discussing Jungian archetypes such as the duality of man. The happy and joyous
atmosphere completely rubs him the wrong way when he meets the group’s leader,
Neil Kirklander (played wonderfully by Peter Fonda), but he stays and sleeps on
the premises and one night makes a break for freedom. Bill Conti’s score here
is recognizable as the precursor to his wonderful score to Robert Mandell’s
thriller F/X (1986). Confronted by Kirklander, he eventually falls under
his spell and informs his mother that he will not be coming home. He undergoes
a ritual whereby he renounces his identity as Danny and is reborn as “Joshua,”
prompting a visit from his parents that results in a near donnybrook
precipitated by his temperamental father.
Split Image, which opened in New York on Friday, November 5,
1982, does a decent job of exploring the practice of capturing and “deprogramming”
an individual who has fallen under the spell of a cult and this is done by
Charles Pratt (played by the incomparable James Woods) who, somehow, makes his
living “deprogramming” people. After kidnapping “Joshua” with his parents’
permission, he forces him to undergo “treatment” to bring “Danny” back to life.
Many of these scenes look as though they came out of a horror film, and it
makes one wonder how much of this was imagined by the writers and how much is
based on factual circumstances such as this. The film looks at the ethics of “interventions”
and how it can alter a person’s free will and their ability to make their own
choices. Like Irwin Winkler’s At First Sight (1992), it waivers between
being compelling and occasionally feels a little “TV Movie of the Week”-ish by
today’s standards.
The film is now available from Kino Lorber on
standard Blu-ray. Some of the shots within the house appear to be a little
darker than they should be, but it is probably just how the film was shot. Mr.
Kotcheff does an expert job of framing the film for 2.35:1 anamorphic
photography, which is a huge step up from the pan-and-scan transfer of the
early 1980’s.
This is a sparse disc in the way of extras, however
the major one is the feature length audio commentary by film historian and filmmaker Daniel Kremer who
mentions his own movie, Raise Your Kids on Seltzer (2015), which is
about retired “deprogrammers”. When I was in middle school, Ralph L. Thomas’s
1981 film Ticket to Heaven appeared in my Weekly Reader issue and
I had a much different idea of what that film was about. It turns out that
deprogramming is the theme, and Mr. Kremer also mentions Blinded by the
Light, which was released in 1980, and starred both Kristy and Jimmy
McNichol, directed by cinematographer John A. Alonzo. This is a very
entertaining and informative commentary which also touches on Mr. Kotcheff’s
other films and placing him into the auteur category.
The
Blu-ray also comes with the following trailers: Split Image, Gorky
Park, 52 Pick-Up, The Bedroom Window, The Wanderers,
and The Hard Way.
(A previous edition of this Blu-ray title from Kino Lorber was reviewed at Cinema Retro in 2020. This review covers a new edition released in 2024, repeating much of the previous writeup but with new material.)
The late Carl Reiner received top billing in this magnificent comedy that was released in the middle of the 1960s, when relations between the United States and the Soviet Union were tentative at best. Détente was at play, but there wasn’t much trust between the two countries. Two years after Kubrick’s Cold War black comedy, Dr. Strangelove, Norman Jewison tried his hand at a picture with a similar theme, only it was one that was much lighter in tone.
Reiner shares the movie with another acting master who recently left us. Alan Arkin made his feature film debut with his portrayal of a Russian submarine political officer. He and Reiner are joined by a marvelous supporting cast of character actors who all have comedic turns. Penned by Oscar-nominated William Rose (who had written or co-written The Ladykillers and It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and would win the Oscar the following year for Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner), The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming focuses on the conflict between a group of misplaced Soviet submariners and the panicky townsfolk of a New England island off the coast of Massachusetts after the summer tourists have left. What it’s really about, though, is communication, or rather, the lack of it, and how a series of incidents that are lost in translation might lead to misunderstandings. Director Jewison delivers that message to the audience wrapped neatly in a barrel of laughs.
Reiner is Walt Whittaker, a playwright who has spent the summer on the island with his wife (Eva Marie Saint) and two children, and the family is ready to depart. His rented house on the coast happens to be near where the Russians’ submarine accidentally runs aground. The captain (Theodore Bikel) sends Lt. Rozanov (Arkin), officer Alexei Kolchin (John Phillip Law), and seven other men to go find a boat, commandeer it, and bring it back so they can tow the sub away from the island. Things begin promisingly, and then all hell breaks loose as one mishap after another foils the Russians’ scheme. Police Chief Mattocks (Brian Keith), his deputy Norman Jonas (Jonathan Winters), and, ultimately, war veteran and head of the citizens militia, Hawkins (Paul Ford), receive conflicting reports of the “invasion” and set about investigating it in their own misguided ways (although Mattocks is indeed the sensible one). Throw in a sudden romantic attraction between Alexei and the Whittaker’s babysitter, Alison (Andrea Dromm), the antics of phone operator Alice (the splendid Tessie O’Shea), and Luther, a drunk “Paul Revere” who spends the entire film trying to catch his horse (Ben Blue), and you’ve got a recipe for a comedy classic. The climax, however, is surprisingly suspenseful when the Russians and Americans finally reach a standoff at the harbor—until an unrelated crisis occurs that shakes everyone out of the mob mentality.
The straight man role was something Carl Reiner could do well; he always brought a heightened intensity to his parts that was simultaneously boisterous and believable, and yet amusing, too. Arkin, whose dialogue is 85% authentic Russian throughout the picture, immediately proved to the world what an amazing actor he is (he received an Oscar nomination for his performance and won a Golden Globe). Winters and Ford both provide much of the insane humor. O’Shea is hilarious, especially in the scene in which she and Reiner are gagged and tied together and attempt to escape. Law, a newcomer at the time, is a striking and likeable presence, and he masters the Russian language and the accented English with aplomb.
It’s all great stuff, punctuated by Johnny Mandel’s score of American patriotic music mixed with Russian folk songs. Along with Arkin’s nomination, The Russians are Coming… was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay (Rose), and Best Editing (Hal Ashby was co-editor).
Kino Lorber’s high definition restoration looks good enough, despite some washing out of color in some places, as well as blemishes and artifacts that can be seen in many of the images. This new 2024 edition has added an audio commentary by film historians Michael Schlesinger and Mark Evanier, who complement the onscreen action with informed background. The earlier supplements of an informative and entertaining “making of” featurette with an interview with Jewison and the theatrical trailer remain on the disk.
In short, The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming is grand fun, and it’s a fitting showcase for the late, great Carl Reiner and Alan Arkin.
One
of the more popular and enduring genres to come out of Hollywood in the late
silent era and the first fifteen years of talkies was the gangster picture. They
sprung into the public consciousness as a result of Prohibition (late 1919 to
1933), which is when real life gangsters were making a splash in America. Early
Pre-Code gangster movies were shockingly violent and gritty—titles like Little
Caesar (1931), The Public Enemy (1931), and Scarface (1932). After
the Production Code kicked in during the summer of 1934, the genre was still
popular and being churned out (especially by Warner Brothers) but they had been
toned down somewhat with more “likable” gangsters.
James
Cagney became a star as a result of playing a gangster in The Public Enemy,
and a pretty mean one at that. Coming from vaudeville, though, he had other
talents. His real heart was in singing and dancing (he won his only acting
Oscar for doing just that in Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1942). In the late
thirties, he continued to make gangster films but he made a big deal out of
resisting them. When The Roaring Twenties was made in 1939, Cagney
proclaimed that this was his swan song playing such a character. At least it
was for ten years, when he made his one and only gangster comeback in White
Heat (1949).
Panama
Smith (Gladys George) says in The Roaring Twenties, “He used to be a big
shot.” There is no “used to” with James Cagney. He was always a big shot in
Hollywood and on the silver screen, a larger than life actor who commanded
whatever picture he was in. He had charisma in spades, the kind of energy that
could ignite a movie projector’s lighting rods, a voice that would forever be
fodder for impressionists, and a superior talent that many actors today could
only dream about.
It's
no surprise that The Roaring Twenties totally belongs to James Cagney,
even when someone like Humphrey Bogart is co-starring. (At the time Bogart had
yet to star in his own feature film; throughout the thirties he did a lot of
playing second banana.) In fact, The Roaring Twenties was the third and
last picture that Cagney and Bogart made together (the other two being Angels
with Dirty Faces and The Oklahoma Kid, 1938 and 1939, respectively).
The
movie came from a short story, “The World Moves On,” by Mark Hellinger, a
well-known journalist of the time. An info-scroll at the beginning of the movie
tells us that Hellinger based the story on “real people” that he knew, implying
that The Roaring Twenties is a true story, or at least inspired by one.
The story was turned into a screenplay by Jerry Wald, Richard Macauley, and
Robert Rossen. Anatole Litvak was initially hired to direct the movie, but it
was ultimately helmed by Raoul Walsh, who had already made some gangster
pictures and would do more in the future.
Eddie
Bartlett (Cagney), George Hally (Bogart), and Lloyd Hart (Jeffrey Lynn) meet in
a foxhole during World War I and become friends. Upon returning home to New
York City, times are tough for GIs. Eddie and Lloyd start a taxi company and
George goes into crime. Eddie reaches out to the young woman who had written to
him during the war, Jean Sherman (Priscilla Lane), but discovers she’s a bit
too young for him. A couple of years later, though, she’s the right age. By
then, Prohibition has kicked in. Eddie and his good friend Danny (Frank McHugh)
get into the bootlegging business with Panama Smith at a speakeasy. Eddie wants
to marry Jean, but Jean actually has eyes for Lloyd, so there’s a little
triangle thing going on to which Eddie is blind. Eddie eventually partners up
with George, and throughout the “roaring twenties” they make names for
themselves as powerful racketeers. But then things go south, as they always do
in gangster pictures.
The
Roaring Twenties was
one of the more popular movies of 1939. It was a big hit, and in fact it out
grossed The Wizard of Oz at the box office. This is not a surprise, for The
Roaring Twenties is an excellent piece of Hollywood entertainment. It’s
slick, it’s well acted and well directed, and its “epic” in structure, covering
a period of fifteen years, is compelling. It’s also a bit of a musical, too,
with Priscilla Lane adeptly performing a few 1920s-era numbers at the
speakeasy. Today the movie is considered one the best of the 1930s gangster
titles, and for good reason—and that reason is James Cagney. Why the film was
not nominated for a single Academy Award is a mystery.
The
Criterion Collection’s new 4K digital restoration with an uncompressed monaural
soundtrack is presented in a twofer package that contains a 4K UHD disk of the film in Dolby Vision HDR, and a
Blu-ray disk with the film and special features. An audio commentary, ported
over from the old Warner Home Video disk, is by film historian Lincoln Hurst. English
subtitles are available for the hearing impaired. The restoration is truly
magnificent, a beauty to behold. The images, shot by DP Ernest Haller, are so
pristine and clean that the movie might have been shot yesterday.
Disappointingly,
the special features are minimal. There is a new interview with critic Gary
Giddins that is interesting enough, and a short vintage 1973 interview with
director Walsh, the theatrical trailer, and that’s it. It’s a shame, really,
that the original Warner DVD’s supplements of the “Warner Night at the Movies”
features—shorts and a cartoon—and hosted by Leonard Maltin, are not included
here. An essay by film critic Mark Asch adorns the booklet.
So,
get on your Fedora and pin-striped suit, or your flapper outfit, and take a
trip back to The Roaring Twenties. Highly recommended for fans of James
Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, gangster pictures, and classic Hollywood studio movies.
Here's a fine documentary examining the life and career of Robert Mitchum from The Hollywood Collection.
"For nearly a century, Hollywood has captivated and influenced generation after generation of moviegoers. Its magic has left an indelible imprint on every culture with a movie projector. Originally broadcast on PBS, HBO/Cinemax, TNT, A&E, Lifetime, and Bravo, this is one of the most comprehensive collections of biographies and cinema retrospectives ever compiled, a spectacular treasury of 32 revealing biographies of Hollywood’s most beloved stars. These biographies, some narrated by the stars themselves, include interviews with friends, family members and colleagues, as well as clips from their most memorable films, and in some cases, rare home movies.
“Over 350 actors, writers, directors, producers, make-up people, publicists, agents, and family members all gave of themselves to help make these shows possible. This was the way it was in Hollywood in its classic era and these were the stars that captured us.” – Gene Feldman, producer/director of The Hollywood Collection."
(To watch in full screen mode, click on "Watch on YouTube".)
So… a novel by Émile Zola published in 1890 has been made into a movie no less than five times. La Bête humaine(“The Human Beast” or “The Beast Within”) is a gritty psychological crime thriller centered in the world of railway yards and train engineer life, and nearly every character, including the protagonist, Jacques Lantier, is someone with a dark soul. It wasnoir before that term was used to describe art.
A film adaptation was first made in Germany in 1920 by Ludwig Wolff. A more celebrated remake by Jean Renoir and starring the great Jean Gabin as Lantier was released in 1938. The Hollywood version, retitled Human Desire andreviewed here, was made in 1954 by Fritz Lang, the brilliant filmmaker who had fled Nazi Germany in the 30s and resumed what was already a stellar career in Tinsel Town. Two more pictures, a 1957 Argentinian version and a more well known British television reworking in 1995 entitled Cruel Train(directed by Malcolm McKay), also revisited the well-worn tale.
While Renoir’s 1938 rendition of La Bête humaineis generally considered the definitive depiction of Zola’s novel, Lang’s Human Desire is an excellent example of the kind of rough-and-ready films noir that Hollywood had been churning out through the 1940s and 50s. Lang himself had already made several that fit within the trend and style of these often cheap, always black and white, mostly cynical thrillers—Ministry of Fear (1944), The Woman in the Window (1944), Scarlet Street (1945), Secret Beyond the Door (1947), and The Big Heat (1953), among others. The hallmarks of film noir are there—cinematography patterned after German expressionism, contrasting light and dark, shadows, nighttime, smoking, drinking, violence, and, most assuredly, a femme fatale.
This time the Lantier character, now called Jeff Warren (Glenn Ford), is a much nicer fellow. The violence and rage that existed in earlier versions of the protagonist are not here.He’s a train engineer, recently discharged from the Korean War and back at his old job in the railway yards somewhere not unlike Pennsylvania. He’srather sweet on the daughter of a colleague, a “good” girl andperhaps the only innocent and squeaky clean character in the story. Carl Buckley (Broderick Crawford) also works for the railroad, but he’s a mean drunk and is fired. He has a younger wife, Vicki (Gloria Grahame), who has a questionable past. Carl gets Vicki to visit a wealthy railway customer, Owens (Grandon Rhodes), to try and get him to influence the railway boss to rehire her husband. Carl doesn’t realize Vicki has some history with Owens. Carl gets his job back, but now he’s terribly jealous. He forces Vicki to help him murder Owens during a train ride. They don’t count on Jeff also being on the train and unwittingly becoming involved in the scheme. Jeff falls for Vicki and begins an affair with her, even though he knows she’s likely “no good.” And then Vicki has plans of her own for Jeff to do something about Carl. She believes that if Jeff had killed in the war, then he could do it again. But that, as he says, is “a different kind of killing.”
Yes, it’s quite a typical adultery-murder plot that floats around films noir. We can predict the events of the story before they occur, but we don’t care. Why? Because Fritz Lang’s direction is tight, interesting, full of striking imagery, and straddles the right balance between campy and heightened melodrama. The performances, especially by Grahame, are quite good. The only problem is an ending that might be considered unresolved.
Kino Lorber Studio Classics’ new Blu-ray release of Human Desire is top-notch with a gorgeous restoration that accents the cinematography by Burnett Guffey (who had won an Academy Award for From Here to Eternity and would win another for Bonnie and Clyde). The only supplements on the disk are a nine minute video discussion about the film by, curiously, actress Emily Mortimer, the theatrical trailer, and trailers for other Kino Lorber releases.
Human Desire is for fans of film noir, Fritz Lang, and the trio of stars—Ford, Grahame, and Crawford. Oh, and if you happen to like trains, there are a lot of those in the movie, too!
Arrow Films has released director Peter Yates' 1971 WWII adventure "Murphy's War" starring Peter O'Toole as a Blu-ray special edition, loaded with impressive extras. Click here for more info and to order from Amazon.