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.
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.
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.
Kino Lorber has released a Blu-ray edition of The Internecine Project, a 1974 London-based thriller directed by Ken Hughes and starring James Coburn in a bravura performance as a charismatic villain. Coburn plays an internationally respected economics expert who finds himself being tapped to be an adviser to the President of the United States. However, he must first ensure that his sordid sideline of running a small London crime ring is swept under the rug. To do so, he devises a complex scheme to convince each member of his team to murder another. The film, written by Barry Levinson and Jonathan Lynn, bristles with tension and leads to a wonderful and satisfying conclusion. Aside from Coburn's outstanding performance, you can relish yeoman work from Lee Grant, Kennan Wynn, Harry Andrews and Ian Hendry- all set to Roy Budd's atmospheric score.
The Blu-ray is a welcome upgrade from the previous Scorpion DVD edition. It ports over the interview with Jonathan Lynn, who would go on to be best known for writing famous British comedy TV series. On most special editions produced by major studios, the interviews are chopped into brief soundbites. Refreshingly, this one allows Lynn to talk for almost 30 minutes- and he goes beyond discussing The Internecine Project to detailing working on Clue, which he wrote and directed.Unfortunately, this edition does not include the interview with Coburn's daughter that was featured on the DVD release. The Blu-ray does contain the original trailer along with trailers of other crime thrillers available from KL. Highly recommended.
In this interview, Steven Spielberg recalls meeting John Ford when he was a young, aspiring filmmaker and the advice Ford gave him that resonated throughout his career. He also extols Ford's "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" for being the classic that it is, even if it was underappreciated back in the day. The fact that the film was shot mostly in a studio led some viewers to express disappointment that it lacked Ford's signature grandeur and magnificent vistas. But the story still resonates today, making poignant observations about courage, cruelty, love and cowardice society, as well as the value of a free press. Indeed, the lessons of "Liberty Valance" are as timely today as they ever were.
Mel Brooks has been awarded an honorary Oscar, but you'd never know it if you watch this year's Academy Awards unless they make a brief mention of it. Gone are the days where viewers were treated to such wonderful moments, as the Academy long ago decided that honoring film industry legends was a superfluous part of the TV broadcast. Better to make more time for the awful "spontaneous" banter between presenters and lame comedy routines. At least the Academy made the presentation available on its web site, so here it is. (Lee Pfeiffer)
"Number One" (released in certain
countries under the title "Pro") is an off-beat vehicle for Charlon Heston, who was then at his peak of popularity. The fact that the
movie under-performed at the box-office and failed to score with
critics didn't diminish Heston's status as a leading man. He would go on
to star in such hits as "The Omega Man", "Skyjacked", "Soylent Green"
"Earthquake", "Midway"and "Airport '75"- with cameos in the popular "The
Three Musketeers" and "The Four Musketeers". The poor response to
"Number One" doesn't diminish its many merits - and the fact that Heston
was willing to play against type in a largely unsympathetic role. For
the film, he reunited with director Tom Gries, with whom he made the
acclaimed 1968 Western "Will Penny". Curiously, both movies center on
the same theme: a macho man who can't come to grips with the fact that
he is aging and, therefore, his chosen way of life is threatened. In
"Will Penny", Heston played the title character: a middle-aged cowboy
who feels the inevitable aches and pains of trying to maintain a career
that is clearly suited for younger men. Similarly, in "Number One" he
plays "Cat" Catlan, a star quarterback for the New Orleans Saints
football team. Catlan has seen plenty of fame and glory as the team's
Golden Boy and the idol of the crowds. But now he is 40 years old and,
although still in Herculean physical condition compared to most men his
age, he's fallen victim to the constant brutalities he suffers on the
field.
The film opens on a particularly disastrous game in which Catlan
makes some serious misjudgments about plays and bungles some key passes.
The result is an embarrassing loss for the team. The Saints' gruff
coach Southerd (John Randolph) isn't ready to give up on Catlin but
seemingly every other team member is. Catlan is subjected to some cruel
jokes and he has to contend with the fact that a much younger player
(Richard Elkins) is breathing down his neck, hoping to replace him as
quarterback. Things aren't much better at home for Catlan. His
long-suffering wife Julie (Jessica Walter) patiently endures his
mysterious absences, unpredictable mood swings and volatile temper. She
is a very successful fashion designer but Catlan is "old school" when it
comes to the role of wives. He wants Julie to stay home and cater to
his needs. In the midst of one of their frequent fights, he even stoops
so low as to cruelly tease her about her inability to conceive a baby.
Still, she sticks with him even when he confesses to having an affair
with an attractive, self-made woman, Ann (Diana Muldaur). Faced with the
fact that his career is winding down, Catlan reluctantly explores his
options for his post-NFL life. They aren't very enticing. His best
friend Richie (Bruce Dern), is an obnoxious former Saints player who
brags about having gotten out of the game at age 34. He now runs a very
successful car leasing business and lives a playboy lifestyle. He wants
Catlan to work for him, a prospect that doesn't sit well with the aging
quarterback. He also gets an offer from a computer company to work for
them but the idea of dealing of being surrounded by machines in the
confines of an office is repugnant to him. Ultimately, Catlan is
inspired by his wife to go out on a high note. During one of their rare
moments of domestic detente, she convinces him that he still has some
good games in his future if he can shake off the funk and get his
confidence back. The film's climactic game is the very definition of
mixed emotions. Catlan performs well and has his mojo back but the
movie's ambiguous final shot is anything but uplifting.
Tom Gries was a good director for Heston. He somehow managed to tamp
down Heston's larger-than-life personality and afford him the
opportunity to play everyday men. In "Number One", Heston is subject to
the sorts of problems that plague most middle-aged men. He's nervous
about his future. He often takes his frustrations out on the people
closest to him. He tries to reassert his youth by exerting his sexual
prowess through having an affair. Throughout it all, Heston admirably
does not try to make Catlan into a hero. There is a level of sympathy
accorded to him because of the emotional and physical stress he is under
but his sheer disregard for others makes him more a villain than a
hero. (He even refuses to give fans his autograph). Even worse is his
sheer selfishness in how he deals with his wife's needs. He feels
threatened by the success she is enjoying in her own career and
therefore diminishes her achievements. Heston gives one of his finest
performances, ironically, in what was one of his least-seen films.He
gets able support from the woefully-underrated Jessica Walter, whose
performance a couple of years later in "Play Misty For Me" should have
assured her of major stardom (and an Oscar nomination). Director Gries
also utilizes the talents of real-life football players, some of whom
exhibit impressive acting skills. Diana Muldaur also excels as the siren
who lures Catlan into her bed. There is an air of authenticity to the
film, primarily because Gries shot much of it in front of packed
stadiums. (Cinematographer Michael Hugo's work is especially
impressive). Gries also captures the feel of New Orleans back in the
day, capitalizing on the local scenery, jazz clubs and even getting the
great Al Hirt to perform a number and do a bit of acting. About the only
dated aspects of the film concern the off-the-field activities of the
NFL players. Catlan complains that they are paid like peasants, which
was probably true in 1969, but is a rather laughable notion today. Also,
the NFL team is required to wear jackets and ties when traveling to or
leaving the stadium, another rule that would be virtually unenforceable
by contemporary standards.
"Number One" never found its audience in 1969 but hopefully retro movie lovers appreciate its
merits. Th film did have at least one critic who appreciated the movie and Heston's
performance. Writing in the New York Times, critic Howard Thompson
wrote: "Charlton Heston, minus a beard, a loincloth, a toga or the Red
Sea, tackles a starkly unadorned role in one of the most interesting and
admirable performances of his career. If Heston could have been better, we
don't know how." Our sentiments exactly.
The film is currently streaming on Screenpix with an add on subscription for Roku and Amazon Prime subscribers.
Oscar-nominated director Norman Jewison has passed away at age 97. Born in Canada, he served in the Canadian navy in WWII. He made his mark in Hollywood in the mid-1960s. His first directorial effort, the romantic comedy "40 Pounds of Trouble" starring Tony Curtis was a hit. This led to him directing Doris Day and James Garner in "The Thrill of It All", one of the most popular movies of 1963. More hit comedies followed including "Send Me No Flowers" with Doris Day and Rock Hudson and the all-star production of "The Art of Love". Jewison got his first opportunity to direct a drama when the mercurially-tempered Sam Peckinpah was fired from "The Cincinnati Kid" starring Steve McQueen in 1965. Jewison stepped in to replace him, earning critical praise. A string of very popular and diverse films followed including the classic Cold War comedy "The Russians are Coming. The Russians are Coming", the racially-tinged crime drama "In the Heat of the Night" which won the Best Picture Oscar and the classic crime caper "The Thomas Crown Affair". Jewison was hoping to cast Sean Connery in the lead role but was persuaded by Steve McQueen to give him the part because McQueen very much wanted to prove he could play a sophisticated rogue. The film was a major hit and spawned a popular 1999 remake starring Pierce Brosnan.
Jewison's diversity as a filmmaker was illustrated by his direction of the high profile 1971 musical "Fiddler on the Roof", based on the Broadway stage production. Jewison was amused when, upon being hired, he confessed to the United Artists brass that he not Jewish, despite his surname. The irony of him directing the ultimate Jewish musical was not lost on the executives who were Jewish. They believed Jewison could be entrusted with the film and it proved to be a major hit in an era in which many other big-budget musicals had flopped. Jewison was nominated for the Best Director Oscar and would be nominated again for the 1987 smash hit comedy "Moonstruck" starring Cher, who did win an Oscar for the film. Not all of Jewison's films were successful critically and at the boxoffice. Among those that didn't meet expectations were "F.I.S.T." and the screen adaptation of "Jesus Christ, Superstar". His futuristic thriller "Rollerball" under-performed in 1975 but has developed a loyal following in the ensuing years. The political satire "And Justice for All" was well-received as was the film adaptation of the play "A Soldier's Story" but most of his other films were not especially successful critically or commercially, although his 1999 production of "The Hurricane" saw Denzel Washington nab a Best Actor nomination in the true life story of former boxer "Hurricane" Carter, who waged a long campaign to prove that he was unjustly jailed for murder. Jewison's film was a lightning rod for controversy. Carter's supporters welcomed the sympathetic portrayal of him as a victim of a racist justice system. Others accused Jewison of being naive and ignoring considerable evidence that Carter was guilty. Either way, Jewison proved he could still stir things up on the big screen. His last big screen feature film was the little-seen "The Statement" starring Michael Caine.
Norman Jewison was a consummate professional who was respected by his peers and appreciated by movie fans worldwide. He was an early contributor to Cinema Retro and we join film lovers around the globe in mourning his passing. For more, click here.
Largely forgotten by the general public, Hickey & Boggs, a 1972 crime thriller,is
currently streaming on ScreenPix, a subscription service available as
an add-on for Amazon Prime and YouTube subscribers. The film's primary merit is that
it reunited I Spy co-stars Bill Cosby and Robert Culp (though by
this time, Cosby's fame had eclipsed Culp's, thus resulting in his
receiving top billing). In their classic TV show, Culp and Cosby played a
tennis pro and his trainer who were actually secret agents. The glitz
of the tennis world allowed them to live Bondian lifestyles while they
thwarted bad guys. Intriguingly, Hickey & Boggs goes in a very different direction. Resisting the temptation to revive their wise-cracking I Spy personalities,
Culp and Cos are seen as down-and-out private investigators in Los
Angeles. Both are divorced but pine away for their ex's; they can't pay
the office phone bill and they ride around in cars that look like they
barely survived a demolition derby. As the TV spots for the film said at
the time, "They have to reach up to touch bottom." On the brink of
financial disaster, the men finally get a case: they are hired by a
mysterious man to find an equally mysterious woman he wants to locate.
The money is good, but the seemingly mundane case soon turns deadly with
Hickey and Boggs dodging mob hit men, Black Power radicals and
unfriendly police brass.
Although the film boasts a screenplay by the noted Walter Hill, this is
the weakest aspect of the production. The story becomes completely
incomprehensible within minutes and, in terms of confusing aspects of
the plot, makes The Big Sleep play like a Pink Panther movie. So
many characters and relationships are introduced that the viewer is
never sure who is doing what to whom and why. What the film does have is
atmosphere, and Culp, who also directed, takes pains to distance the
two lead characters from their I Spy counterparts. They still
have terrific screen chemistry, however, even as they play against type
as two rusty private eyes who can't hit the broad side of a barn even
with their .357 Magnums blazing. The film features a number of exciting
action sequences and an excellent supporting cast including Rosalind
Cash, Vincent Gardenia, Ed Lauter, Bill Hickman (the legendary stunt
driver) and, in early career roles, James Woods and Michael Moriarty. It
would have helped immensely if the downbeat script was at least
decipherable, but as it stands there is still plenty to recommend about Hickey & Boggs.
Joyce Randolph, the last remaining cast member of the classic American sitcom "The Honeymooners", has passed away at her New York City home at age 99. She is survived by her son Randy. Regardless of your age, if you grew up in America over the last seven decades, you were exposed to her work on the sitcom, which is iconic in the nation's pop culture. The show was the brainchild of Jackie Gleason who portrayed New York City bus driver Ralph Kramden, bringing to the show elements of his own humble upbringing in Brooklyn. His wife Alice was played by Audrey Meadows and his best friend, sewer worker Ed Norton, was played by Art Carney with Joyce Randolph appearing as his wife Trixie. The concept for the series began as periodic sketches on Gleason's variety show before spinning off as a weekly sitcom. Gleason only did one season despite the success of the series and the episodes became known to fans as "The Classic 39". Gleason would revive "The Honeymooners" as musical sketches in his 1960s variety series. However, he recast the roles of Alice and Trixie, which did not sit well with fans. Additionally, seeing the characters outside of their dank, tiny Brooklyn apartment and now in living color, also dissipated enjoyment of the revival. In an era in which most female characters were portrayed as mothers who were accepting that husband was the head of the household, "The Honeymooners" went against the grain. For one, both the Kramdens and Nortons never had children, a rarity for the era. Additionally, both Alice and Trixie were not compliant housewives. They challenged their husbands, sometimes in screaming matches, and generally ended up getting their way.
(Joyce attended Cinema Retro's 2016 tribute to Barbara Feldon at Theatre 80 St. Marks in New York. (Photo: Lee Pfeiffer/Cinema Retro)).
Joyce was a personal friend of mine for many years. On numerous occasions I interviewed her at some of New York's legendary arts clubs including The Players and The Lambs. During these appearances, I would interview her about her memories of the series and it was always in front of a full house. She was gracious, funny and a marvelous storyteller. After her husband Richard Charles died in 1997, Joyce continued to be a fixture on Gotham's social circuit, often holding court at the famous bar at Sardi's. Joyce said that while she liked Jackie Gleason, he was difficult to work with as an actor because he only did one rehearsal before the cast had to film each episode before a live audience. She once griped to me that Gleason had a photographic memory when it came to reading the scripts but had little sympathy for his cast mates who did not. She also felt she was very underpaid compared to her co-stars. She told me that many years later, she got even with Gleason when he was marketing the "lost" episodes of "The Honeymooners", which were previously missing sketches of varying lengths from his 1950s variety show. Gleason called her and asked her to sign a release so the shows could be telecast and also marketed on video. Joyce said, "I gave Jackie a piece of my mind" and told him she had been woefully underpaid. If Gleason needed her permission this time, he would have to meet her price. The Great One backed down and relented.
"The Honeymooners": Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows, Art Carney and Joyce Randolph.
(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)
One of my fondest memories was accompanying Joyce to a musical stage version of "The Honeymooners" some years ago at the Papermill Playhouse in New Jersey. She very much enjoyed being the center of attention for the press. Fans pressed to get near her and of course many of them tossed out iconic one-liners from the show. Having lived a good, long life, it's hard to say that Joyce has left us prematurely. However, New York won't be quite as much fun as it was when she was making the rounds in the city. I miss her already.
By the time Burt Reynolds finally starred in the 1972 classic
"Deliverance", he had been paying his dues in Hollywood for many years
with varying degrees of success on television. His feature films,
however, were strictly "B" grade. Saul David, who produced a 1970 film
starring Reynolds titled "Skullduggery", bemoaned at the time that he
should have been a major movie star but bad luck seemed to always
interfere. Reynolds wisely cultivated an image as a hip, towel-snapping
wiseguy through appearing on seemingly every American game and chat
show. His appearances on "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson" merited
"must-see TV" status. Ironically, "Deliverance" entirely abandoned this
popular image of Reynolds and afforded him a dramatic role that he
fulfilled with excellent results. But the success of the film made
Reynolds anxious to prove he could sustain his boxoffice clout without
the help of a strong co-star, in the case of of "Deliverance", Jon
Voight. Reynolds chose wisely for his follow-up feature. "White
Lightning" was developed under the working title "McClusky". The role of
a hunky, charismatic southern good ol' boy fit Reynolds like a glove
because it allowed him to incorporate his penchant for performing stunts
with his flippant, wise-cracking TV persona.
Filmed in Arkansas, the movie finds Reynolds as "Gator" McClusky, a
man doing prison time for running illegal moonshine. Gator still has
another year to spend on the prison farm when he gets word that his
younger brother has been murdered. (We see the scene play out over the
opening credits in which two young men are brutally drowned in a swamp
by the local sheriff, J.C. Connors (Ned Beatty) and his deputy.) Enraged
and spoiling for revenge, Gator accepts a deal to work undercover for
federal agents to expose Connors as the local Huey Long-type power
broker in Bogan County. Indeed, the seemingly affable, understated
Connors runs the entire county like a personal fiefdom, using extortion,
shakedowns and outright murder to ensure his stature. He also gets a
piece of the action from the very moonshiners he's supposed to
prosecute. Gator feels uncomfortable working as a snitch but it's the
only way to find out why his brother was killed and to bring Connors to
justice. Using his considerable charm and his background as a guy from a
small rural community, he finds himself quickly working for a moonshine
ring headed by Big Bear (R.G. Armstrong), who is brutal in retribution
against anyone who crosses him. Gator is assigned to deliver moonshine
with a partner, Roy Boone (Bo Hopkins). They spend a lot of time
together and become fast friends, even though Roy's hot-to-trot
girlfriend Lou (Jennifer Billingsley) succeeds in seducing Gator, thus
endangering his mission when Roy gets wind of the deception. When Gator
learns the reason why his brother and his friend were murdered, he
becomes even more vengeful, leading to a spectacular car chase involving
Connors and his corrupt deputies.
"White Lightning" was directed by Joseph Sargent, who was primarily
known for his work in television. He fulfills the requirements of the
film quite well, though the spectacular car chases and jaw-dropping
action scenes were largely the work of legendary stutman/coordinator Hal
Needham, who would go on to work on many films with Reynolds. The film
is consistently lively but it also has moments of poignancy and drama.
The supporting cast is terrific with Ned Beatty of "Deliverance"
reuniting with Reynolds with good results. Beatty underplays the sense
of menace attributable to his character. He also plays up his status as a
pillar of the community, tossing off barbs about how hippies and big
city liberals threaten "our values" and-worst of all- encourage "our
coloreds to vote!". Meanwhile, he is heading up a vast criminal
enterprise. Jennifer Billingsley is wonderful as the lovable air-headed
seductress who will jump into bed with a man if there's a prospect of
getting a new dress out of the bargain. There are also fine turns by Bo
Hopkins, R.G. Armstrong and Diane Ladd (whose name in the opening and
closing credits is misspelled as "Lad". Ouch!) The movie turned out to
be a big hit for United Artists, aided in part by striking ad campaigns
with the same weapon-as-phallic symbol design employed for Richard
Roundtree's "Shaft's Big Score" the previous year coupled with another
poster showing Reynolds behind the wheel of a speeding car. Sex and
speed became hallmarks for promoting a Reynolds action movie.
Kino Lorber has reissued their 2019 Blu-ray edition, which is
first-rate in all aspects, with a fine transfer and a 2014 interview
with Burt Reynolds, who looks back fondly on the importance the movie
had on proving he could be top-billed in a hit movie. The film initiated
his association with rural-based comedies and action films and three
years later, a successful sequel ("Gator") would be released. Reynolds
also drops the interesting fact that this was to be Steven Spielberg's
first feature film. However, Reynolds says the young TV director got
cold feet about his ability to film on so many difficult locations,
given that his background was largely working in studios. Reynolds
praises his co-star Ned Beatty and reminds everyone that "White
Lightning" was only his second film, having made his screen debut in
"Deliverance". He is also very complimentary towards Jennifer
Billingsley and regrets that she never became a big star. Reynolds also
discusses Hal Needham's zealousness for performing dangerous stunts and
relates how one key scene in which a car shoots out over water to land
on a moving barge almost went disastrously wrong. He says the film has a
realistic atmosphere because of the screenplay by William W. Norton,
who adapted many aspects of his own hard scrabble life. The only
negative note Reynolds sounds is about Diane Ladd, who he cryptically
says he did not like working with, although he doesn't go into detail as
to why.The set includes a new feature not available on the previous
Blu-ray release: a commentary track by film historian collaborators
Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson. As far as commentary tracks are
concerned, the duo are always terrific and this outing is no exception.
Their easy-going, laid-back and humorous style is appropriate for the
tone of the film. They go into great detail about aspects of the and
cast. I hadn't realized until listening to the track how on-the-mark
they are in assessing Ned Beatty as an actor whose physical appearance
varied dramatically depending upon the type of story he was cast in.
Indeed, they are correct. The evil good ol' boy corrupt sheriff of
"White Lightning" is light years away from the fish-out-water rape
victim of "Deliverance" or the demagogic TV executive of "Network". The
track is good enough to merit upgrading to this version of the Blu-ray
even if you have the previous release.
The Blu-ray also includes the original trailer, which was very
effective in playing up Reynolds' emerging star power and reversible sleeve art showing an alternative ad campaign. Highly
recommended.
If you're an Amazon Prime subscriber and in the mood to watch 2/3 of a terrific crime thriller, by all means check out "The Outfit", written by Graham Moore and Jonathan McLain. The production marks the directing debut of Moore, who won the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar for his 2015 WWII spy thriller "The Imitation Game". Why do I refer to this as "2/3 of a terrific crime thriller"? I shall explain later. For now, let's examine the creative set-up of the film's plot. It is set in Chicago in 1956 and all of the action takes place inside a "Bespoke" tailor shop owned by Leonard Burling (Mark Rylance), a Brit who emigrated to Chicago right after WWII. The "Bespoke" aspect of his shop refers to a quaint term that indicates this isn't the place to buy off-the-rack suits. Rather, Leonard, who was Savile Row-trained, prides himself on creating custom-made duds for discriminating men of means. The shop is a dark, somewhat foreboding place and Leonard spends most of his days (and nights) obsessing over his latest masterworks in the back room. His only employee is his Girl Friday (to use an appropriately quaint term) Mabel (Zoey Deutch), a young woman who he takes a paternal interest in looking after. Leonard is affronted by being confused with a tailor and quickly points out that he is a professional cutter, a status that can only be achieved through years of apprenticeships and hard work.When asked if the destruction from the Blitz on London inspired his immigration to America, he quips that it wasn't and that his real enemy was the public's embracing of bluejeans. (It makes for a clever line, though, it's not accurate as bluejeans were certainly not a fashion rage during the 1940s.)
This seemingly unexciting setting is soon revealed to be a bastion of secrets. It seems that Leonard's best customer is a local mob kingpin, Roy (Simon Russell Beale), who has appropriated the shop as a communications hub for the wiseguys in his employ. Throughout the day and night, the gangsters drop off coded messages that are then picked up by other gangsters. In return for this cooperation, Leonard has become the preferred clothier for the nattily-dressed crooks. Two of the more frequent visitors to his shop are among the least welcome: Roy's son Richie (Dylan O'Brien) and his fellow mobster Francis (Johnny Flynn). The two are like brothers and share a penchant for cruelty, as evidenced by the fact that they constantly insult Leonard by not even addressing him by his name, opting instead to call him "English". Leonard keeps his head down and bears the humiliation. What else can he do? These are real-life killers with itchy trigger fingers. In the first of a number of revelations, Leonard learns that Richie is in a romantic relationship with Mabel. He knows she is making a mistake but she can't be dissuaded. Richie is handsome, exciting and has all the appeal of the trademark "bad boy" lover. The less divulged about the plot of a thriller, the better for prospective viewers. However, a few plot points need to be discussed. At one point during this seemingly endless evening, Francis returns to the shop with a seriously wounded Richie, who has been shot by a rival gang. He can't bring Richie to a hospital for fear of police involvement. Instead, he forces Leonard to remove the bullet and stitch up Richie using his tailoring instruments. It makes for a tense, suspenseful scene. Later, Roy arrives at the shop looking for a major character who has gone missing. What he doesn't know is that the person is dead and is being concealed in a large trunk in the very room. Adding to the drama is the revelation that the F.B.I. has secretly recorded incriminating conversations, which sets everyone off on a frenzied search for the tape before the rival gang obtains it. It makes for some genuine slow-boiling tension.
Until this point, about 2/3 of the way through the film, things have been going swimmingly as director Moore keeps the pace measured and the suspense building- and then...then...in the immortal words of Yeats, "Things fall apart." Revelations are made by so many people in such a frenzied manner that the scenario become unintentionally funny and more appropriate for a "Naked Gun" script. It seems that Moore the screenwriter is intent on undermining Moore the director. There are inexcusable cliches. For example, the script invokes my warning of what I call the "Bear Trap Scenario". This occurs in any film in which a bear trap is shown early in the story in a seemingly innocuous manner only to be used by someone as a weapon later in the story (See "Straw Dogs", "Dead of Winter" and "Skyfall"). In, "The Outfit", much is made about Leonard's affection for his prized pair of cutting shears. "Oh, no", I thought, "It would be too obvious to have them used as an instrument of violence." But, voila! At the film's conclusion they certainly are. Then there's the revelation that there's a "rat" in the gang, which makes everyone understandably paranoid. The finale also finds the introduction of an exotic female crime kingpin known as La Fontaine (Nikki Amuka-Bird), who presides over a Black gang. Although Amuka-Bird's performance is spot-on, the character is more suited for a Bond film than an old world Chicago crime scenario in which most of the characters are reminiscent of a Bogart Warner Brothers production. La Fontaine's presence comes off as a bit of gimmicky casting that undermines the quickly evaporating sense of realism that was apparent in the first 2/3 of the production. Finally, director Moore goes off the hinges by turning the climax into a quasi slasher film, complete with the seemingly immortal antagonist. Squaring off against him, Leonard then makes some startling revelations of his own. Mind you, he does so in the midst of a raging inferno that conveniently seems to stop spreading while he delivers a soliloquy of sorts for dramatic effect.
I can't remember the last time I've seen such a promising film devolve and self-destruct in the manner that "The Outfit" does. It's a pity, too, because Mark Rylance gives a mesmerizing performance and he benefits from a fine supporting cast. To be fair, some reviewers have lavished the film with praise, so judge for yourself. Meanwhile, if you want to see a first-rate underrated crime thriller with the same title, check out the 1974 caper movie "The Outfit" starring Robert Duvall. It's tense, suspenseful and makes sense...and you don't have to fear the "Bear Trap Scenario" angle.
Here's a bizarre scenario: a group called Tommy McCook and the Supersonics released a track called "Our Man Flint" on Jamaican labe Treasure Isle, which was owned by Duke Reid, a larger-than-life record producer. Wikipedia describes him thusly:
" He was dressed in a long ermine cloak and a gilt crown on his head,
with a pair of Colt 45s in cowboy holsters, a cartridge belt strapped
across his chest and a loaded shotgun over his shoulder. It was not
uncommon for things to get out of hand and it was said that Duke Reid
would bring the crowd under control by firing his shotgun in the air."
Research shows the record was released in 1968. As for this track, aside from McCook, a well-known jazz artist, shouting out "Our Man Flint!" at the beginning of the song, there is no reference to the main theme from the film. In fact, as one YouTube commentator points out, the song on the record is actually "Sway", a lounge hit for Dean Martin. The record label also doesn't list the requisite credits for the composer and songwriter. However, it is a good, funky version of the song.
Founded by producers James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff,
American International Pictures (A.I.P.) hit upon a formula of financing
and releasing low-budget exploitation films for non-discriminating
audiences (translation: the youth market). Specializing in horror films
and goofy comedies, A.I.P. occasionally strayed into other genres. In
1963, the company capitalized on the always-popular WWII genre with the
release of "Operation Bikini". Ostensibly, the movie's title referred to
the obscure atoll in the Pacific where atomic bomb tests were conducted
during the Cold War era. However, in true A.I.P. style, the advertising
campaign was designed to imply that the title might also refer to the
fact that the bikini bathing suit was popularized here by a French
designer who conducted a photo shoot on the atoll just days after an
atomic blast. (Ignorant of the risks from radiation poison, he merrily
pronounced that "Like the bomb, the bikini is small and devastating!")
Still, the sexploitation angle in "Operation Bikini" was saved for late
in the film. What precedes its appearance is a fairly routine combat
flick made somewhat more interesting by the obvious attempts of the
filmmakers to disguise the movie's very limited budget.
Tab Hunter, one of the top heart throbs of the era, had by this point
seen his popularity in decline. He nonetheless received top billing
over charismatic crooner Frankie Avalon, whose career was ascending and
who would find great popularity as the star of several A.I.P. beach
movies over the next few years. Hunter plays Lt. Morgan Hayes, the
leader of a secret commando team that has been ordered to rendezvous
with a U.S. submarine that has been ordered to transport them on a
secret mission. The team is supposed to locate and destroy the wreckage
of an American sub that was recently sunk off the coast of Bikini by the
Japanese. Seems the wreckage contains a prototype of a top secret sonar
device that the Allies can't afford to fall into enemy hands. From
minute one, Hayes' small group of rough house land-lubbers rubs the
Captain of the submarine, Emmett Carey (Scott Brady) and his crew the
wrong way. Hayes's men resent being cooped up in a floating "tin can"
and the naval crew resents the presence of these brash soldiers who seem
to be perpetually eager to provoke a fight. Carey gives Hayes a
dressing down about keeping the tension levels low and the two men
ultimately gain mutual respect for one another. Upon arriving at Bikini,
Hayes and his men must sneak ashore and traverse the dense jungle in
search of the area where the sunken submarine is located. They are
guided by local partisans who conveniently include a stunning beauty
named Reiko, played by Eva Six, a recent winner of the "Miss Golden
Globes" honor. (I will refrain from making any tasteless jokes.) Reiko
takes a shine to Hayes and gets his mind temporarily off his troubles by
seducing him. When Hayes and his men finally arrive at their
destination, they are dismayed to see a virtual fleet of Japanese
vessels guarding the coast line where the sub is already being salvaged
by the enemy. Hayes realizes that they are now probably on a suicide
mission. Nevertheless, they persevere courageously, dodging and
sometimes engaging Japanese patrols before sending in Hayes and some
fellow scuba divers to attach time bombs to the hull of the sunken sub.
(The sequence is rather absurd because the team accomplishes this in the
dead of night despite not being able to employ any lighting equipment
whatsoever.) Detected by the Japanese, Hayes and his heroes take some
casualties in their desperate attempt to make it back to Capt. Carey's
submarine.
"Operation Bikini" is a "by the numbers" WWII yarn that isn't noticeably
better or worse than many of the other "B" movies of this genre that
were released in the 1960s. Director Anthony Carras, who edited some of
the better Poe adaptations for producer Roger Corman, employs grainy
stock footage of real combat sequences to get around his limited budget.
However, there are a couple of sequences that are unintentionally
amusing in which we find the crew of the submarine standing on deck,
supposedly in the middle of the ocean. The scenes are clearly filmed on a
sound stage because there is absolutely no movement of the vessel at
all. Apparently the budget didn't even allow for a few crew members to
gently "rock" the vessel. Additionally, the backdrop consists of either a
white or black wall with nary a hint of nature evident. Hunter looks
sullen and dreary throughout the entire proceedings, even when stripping
off his shirt for the love scene. The supporting cast includes some
offspring of Hollywood legends: Jody McCrea (son of Joel) and Gary
Crosby (son of "Der Bingle"). Michael Dante is the executive officer of
the sub and in a rather offbeat bit of casting, Jim Backus is seen in a
dramatic role as a member of the demolition team. Hunter's fellow teen
idol Frankie Avalon is cast in his usual role as wise-cracking street
guy. In the film's most bizarre sequences, he drools over a photo of the
prim and proper girl he left behind. while singing an awful love song
about trying not to be tempted by the "bad girls" he meets while on duty
away from home. Although the film is in black and white, these fantasy
sequences are shot in color. The "good girl" is shown lovingly waiting
for him while dressed like somebody's great grandmother and is presented
in B&W. Meanwhile, the leggy temptress is seen in full color,
attired in a slinky cocktail dress and gyrating her hips suggestively.
The virginal good girl gets the short end of the stick. These weird
sequences are an amusing example of how A.I.P. used an "everything but
the kitchen" sink formula to appeal to young audiences, regardless of
the lack of logic. The formula is employed in the film's equally bizarre
epilogue which extols the fact that the bikini bathing suit is closely
associated with Bikini. We observe a several minute sequence (also shot
in color) in which two young women lounge around the beach in skimpy
swim attire for no apparent reason than to stimulate the already raging
hormones of the movie's intended male teenage audience.
(The film is currently available for streaming through ScreenPix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional fee every month.)
CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE DVD FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE
No one has ever clamored for a remake of director Howard Hawks' "Red River". The 1948 film is routinely considered to be one of the great American westerns, although Hawks was never completely satisfied with the end result. Between changes he made to the film and some changes imposed by the studio, the result was that film scholars are still debating which version should be considered as the final cut. However, the film's impact is indisputable. It afforded John Wayne the best role of his career up to that time and elevated up-and-coming Montgomery Clift to major stardom. I must admit that I was surprised to learn of a 1988 television remake of the film when I saw it is now streaming on ScreenPix, an optional subscription channel, which is available for a nominal monthly fee to Amazon Prime subscribers. It would take a big man to step into Duke Wayne's shoes but James Arness filled the bill. In fact, Wayne was a mentor to Arness and made several films with him before he convinced the young actor to accept CBS's offer to star as Marshall Matt Dillon in the TV series "Gunsmoke", an adaptation of the popular radio program. Arness plays Thomas Dunson, who was on a wagon train to Texas along his fiancee. Dunson and his sidekick Groot (Ray Walston in a role originally played by Walter Brennan), leave the wagon train to scout for appropriate land to settle on. While they are away, the wagon train is attacked by Indians. The begins with Dunson and Groot discovering that all of the pioneers have been killed except for a young boy, Matt Garth (Mickey Kuhn), who Dunson unofficially adopts as a son. The gesture proves to be mutually beneficial, as it helps both grief-stricken people cope with their losses. Ultimately, the headstrong Dunson finds the perfect land to claim for his own and it stretches as far as the eye can see. The film then jumps ahead a number of years. Dunson's spread, known as the Red River D, has been a major success and he is getting ready to move his enormous herd to Sedalia, Missouri to sell the steers for a considerable profit. He is heartened by the return of Matt (now played by Bruce Boxleitner), who has been away fighting with Southern forces in the Civil War. With Matt and Groot as his trusted right-hand men, Dunson assembles a major company of experienced drovers for the perilous journey that lies ahead.
As with Hawks' version of "Red River", the TV production chronicles the increased hardships the cattlemen endure and the slow breakdown in morale as food supplies become skimpy and the dangers increase from inclement weather and the threat of hostile Indians. Dunson rules the company with an iron fist and tells the men that he is financially broke, as he's put all of his money into the cattle drive. He reminds them that the only way they will get paid is if they get the herd to Sedalia, where it can be sold. Some cowhands encounter the drovers and say there is a rumor that the rail line has now reach Abilene, Kansas. If true, it will make for a lucrative market to sell the cattle in order to feed the booming population. It's also a shorter and safer journey for the drovers to make. However, Dunson will have not risk changing direction on the basis of an unfounded rumor. Ultimately, some men choose to leave the drive. However, when a couple of drovers also steal some precious food before absconding, Dunson has them hunted down and captured. Enraged, he tells them he will lynch them. When Matt can't convince him that he is going to far, a major rift occurs and Matt informs Dunson that he is taking control of the herd and gambling on taking the cattle to Abilene. Dunson refuses to go along and promises to hunt Matt down and personally kill him, despite the fact that Matt intends to turn any proceeds over to his adoptive father.
The story continues to follow events in the film, albeit in truncated fashion since the film runs 96 minutes compared to the 133 minutes of the original version. Matt and flashy gunslinger Cherry Valance (Gregory Harrison) encounter a wagon train besieged by Indians. They ultimately rescue the survivors which include Kate Millay (Laura Johnson), a Civil War widow with a young son. Both Matt and Cherry are smitten by her, which introduces an element of sexual tension as both men become antagonistic towards each other in increasingly dangerous ways. Ultimately, Matt gets the herd to Abilene and finds that the rumors were true. The town is booming and anxious to buy the herd for top dollar. Matt's joy is short-lived, however, as Dunson arrives with his personal posse of hired gunmen- and he's intent on keeping his vow to kill Matt.
There is nothing in the TV version of "Red River" that improves on Hawks's original in any meaningful way. However, it does offer some fine performances. It's interesting to see Arness, who gives a commanding performance, finally play a character whose judgment is flawed and whose actions border on the reckless. He has good chemistry with Bruce Boxleitner, possibly because the two were old friends who had co-starred in Arness's post-"Gunsmoke" TV series "How the West Was Won". Gregory Harrison has a meatier role as Cherry Valance than John Ireland did in the original version, possibly because Harrison was an executive producer on this production. He provides ample doses of both charm and reckless behavior. There are plenty of familiar Western stars who make brief appearances including Ty Hardin, Robert Horton, L.Q. Jones and Guy Madison, in his final screen appearance. The script has been updated with some new characters added, most notably Stan Shaw, very good as Jack Byrd, an ex-slave who must endure bigotry before winning the respect of the drovers with his skills. The film is crisply directed by Richard Michaels, who keeps the balance between action and personal dramas well-balanced.
I viewed the film with the expectation that it would be simply a pale imitation of the 1948 classic. However, while the original reigns supreme, I'm happy to say that if the TV version is viewed as a stand-alone production, it's actually surprisingly good.
I can find no record of this film having been released on home video aside from an early VHS version, so the Screenpix option is the best way to view it.
Australian video label Imprint has released a Blu-ray boxed set dedicated to the films of Sidney Lumet. The movies included are:
Serpico
The Group
The Pawnbroker
The Deadly Affair
The Offence
Child's Play
The set includes hours of bonus features and a new documentary about Lumet's early career achievements. Cinema Retro's Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer is joined by fellow film historians Paul Scrabo and Tony Latino for the commentary track on "The Offence", which stars Sean Connery in what many believe is his best performance.
The discs are all region-free. The set is a limited edition. Click here to order.
Prices are in Australian dollars. If you reside outside of Australia, use a currency converter to calculate the price in your currency.
Tom Smothers of the famed comedy duo The Smothers Brothers, has passed away at 86. Early reports indicate he was suffering from cancer. Along with his younger brother Dick, he became an icon of American comedy in the 1960s. The duo started off spoofing the blossoming folk music scene and incorporating it into their standup act, which quickly drew packed houses. In 1967, the brothers were signed by CBS for their own Sunday night show "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour". Despite their physical appearance as short-haired, squeaky clean squares, the brothers used the clout of their successful show to emphasize political humor. It made for "must-see" TV in an era defined by the protest movements over racial injustice and the Vietnam War. CBS began to get anxious when conservative viewers complained that the political humor was going to far. Although Tom Smothers was a self-defined liberal, the brothers satirized both Republicans and Democrats. As with any incumbent President, Lyndon. B. Johnson was often the prime target, as the brothers vehemently opposed his Vietnam War policies. In one instance, the President himself called CBS to complain about how he was being portrayed. In 1967, CBS deleted a performance by Pete Seeger of his thinly-veiled anti-Vietnam War song, "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy". Tom Smothers and his brother were not intimidated and continued the barbed humor when Richard Nixon was inaugurated as President in January, 1969. The brothers showcased impersonator David Frye, whose satirical portrayal of Nixon was as amusing as it was controversial, even though Frye had also satirized President Johnson in an equally barbed manner. By then, CBS had enough of the controversy and canceled the show that April. Officially, the reason was over a dispute about a preview tape of the next show that the network said Tom had not delivered, an accusation he always denied. The brothers sued the network and won the case. Although they were awarded sizeable damages, the show could not be revived.
As with Ed Sullivan, whose variety show also aired on CBS on Sunday nights, the brothers used their image as squares for comedic effect. But, also like Sullivan, they proved to be the hippest guys around when it came to showcasing emerging talents in the rock and soul music world. It was an era in which teenagers would actually stay home to watch variety shows if it gave them a chance to see their favorite groups perform. The brothers also had a talent for finding other young talent. Their staff of writers included newcomers Steve Martin, Rob Reiner and Mason Williams, whose instrumental song "Classical Gas" would become a late-1960s hit. Even Carl Gottlieb, who went on to write the screenplay for "Jaws", started as a writer on the show. They also showcased promising comedy acts such as George Carlin and Pat Paulsen, whose quixotic tongue-in-cheek run for President in the 1968 election made him a pop culture phenomenon at the time.
For more, click here. For in-depth coverage of Smothers' life and career, click here for Washington Post coverage. (May require subscription.)
The Barrymore Film Center and Museum in Fort Lee, New Jersey, will present a rare big screen showing of director Michael Cimino's epic 1980 Western, "Heaven's Gate". The film was drenched in controversy when it first opened and reviews were so bad that United Artists withdrew the movie from the few prestigious theaters it had opened in. The studio ordered Cimino to re-cut the film and a new, slimmed-down edition was released months later to disastrous financial results. Not helping matters was the fact that Cimino had crafted his over-schedule and over-budgeted film in a manner that was highly critical of the American government. The film is loosely based on The Johnson County War, a dispute between struggling farmers and cattle barons who wanted their land. The U.S. government did not stop the cattlemen from hiring paid assassins to terrorize and kill settlers who would not cede their land, based on the accusation that they were rustlers. In fact, President Benjamin Harrison authorized U.S. troops to intervene on behalf of the cattle barons when a wide range of conflicts broke out between them and the men they had targeted. America was in no mood for such a message, having just been through turbulent times relating to the Vietnam War, assassinations of high profile leaders and the the resignation of a once-popular president amidst the seemingly endless crimes revealed by the Watergate investigations. The nation wanted to feel good about itself once more and a few weeks after"Heaven's Gate" premiered, Ronald Reagan was elected President in a landslide. Reagan's "Morning in America" agenda sought to shake off the country's missteps and concentrate on the positive aspects. There wasn't much enthusiasm for Cimino's downbeat reminder of another American scandal, even if it was in the distant past. In the ensuing years, however, the film has gained acclaim in some circles and Cimino's full-length version has occasionally been presented in theaters to appreciative audiences. If you attend the screening, leave time to explore the Barrymore's displays of vintage movie memorabilia and rare original posters dating back to the silent era. (Lee Pfeiffer)
Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" site features Marlon Brando trailers this week, including director Sidney J. Furie's sadly neglected 1966 Western "The Appaloosa", with trailer commentary by film director Daniel Kremer, who authored a book about Furie. Kremer makes the most of the trailer's limited running time, providing fascinating and amusing insights into Brando's bizarre behavior on the set. The reluctant superstar had a bad attitude about making the film, which he had to do to satisfy a long-time contractual commitment to Universal. The film is not a classic, but like most of the movies Brando made in the 1960s, it is underrated.
Click here to order the Blu-ray of the film with commentary track by Cinema Retro's Lee Pfeiffer and film historian Paul Scrabo.
Ryan O'Neal, the star of "Love Story" and "Barry Lyndon", has died from unspecified causes at the age of 82. He had been experiencing health issues since being diagnosed with leukemia and prostate cancer over a decade ago. O'Neal learned the craft of acting on his own, never having taken a lesson. He entered the film industry as a teenager, performing stunts. In 1964 he received his first major role, starring in "Peyton Place", the successful TV series based on the hit feature film and its sequel. His career went into high gear when he was cast with another up-and-coming actor, Ali MacGraw, in the 1970 screen adaptation of Eric Segal's bestselling novel "Love Story". Segal had adapted his own screenplay to form the basis of the wafer-thin novel about a doomed romance between a young couple at Harvard University. The novel sold millions and paved the way for Paramount's big screen version, which was both a critical and financial success. O'Neal and MacGraw both earned Oscar nominations. O'Neal's post-Oscar career skyrocketed and he worked in with some of the industry's top directors including Richard Attenborough, Peter Bogdanovich and Stanley Kubrick, who raised eyebrows by casting the American actor in the leading role in his opulent 1975 epic "Barry Lyndon". The film won enormous acclaim but much of it didn't rub off on O'Neal, as some critics voiced the opinion that Kubrick, who was not known as an "actor's director" had cast him simply because he was a bland screen presence who wouldn't distract from the more spectacular aspects of the production. Nevertheless, O'Neal had been riding high with hits like "What's Up, Doc?", in which he co-starred with Barbra Streisand, "The Main Event"and "Paper Moon", in which he starred with his pre-teen daughter Tatum, who became the youngest actor to receive an Oscar. O'Neal also had a major role in Attenborough's 1977 WWII epic "A Bridge Too Far". His misfires included the starring
role in an ill-fated 1978 big screen sequel to "Love Story" titled
"Oliver's Story" which he personally denounced as "a complete-off" that
he did for the money.One of his last major big screen hits was "The Main Event" in 1979, which teamed him again with Streisand.
By the 1980s, O'Neal's career was in a tailspin. He still found work but the better roles and films eluded him. Attempts to move into television did not have successful results. He also suffered an endless stream of sensational stories in the press about his personal behavior, most of it centered on his mercurial temper. He was once arrested for beating his son Griffin, though charges were eventually dropped and years later would be arrested on drug charges along with another son, Redmond. He had been married and divorced twice when he began a long relationship with actress Farrah Fawcett, who was married to actor Lee Majors at the time. The couple never married but Ms. Fawcett was mother to Redmond O'Neal. O'Neal and Fawcett split up but eventually reconciled and he saw her through her traumatic battle against terminal cancer. He worked in television with little success before landing a recurring role on the popular series "Bones". The O'Neal family's personal problems had long been regular fodder for gossip columns. He was estranged from Tatum for most of her life and the two never fully reconciled, even though the two had co-starred on a reality show that portrayed their relationship favorably. Characteristically, O'Neal would later say that the show was sanitizing what was still a very volatile relationship. He proclaimed that one of his most satisfying late-in-life highlights was reuniting with Ali MacGraw to co-star in the moving stage play "Love Letters".
Writer/Producer Norman Lear has died at the tender of 101. Lear was one of the few remaining people in the entertainment industry that could truthfully be called a legend. His background is far too detailed and remarkable to summarize here but we should remember he was a veteran of the U.S. Army Air Forces and flew over 50 combat missions in Europe in WWII. His admirers may also be surprised to know that he was an Oscar nominee, having been nominated for his screenplay for the acclaimed 1967 comedy "Divorce, American Style". But Lear was best known for transforming the face of American television and, along the way, bringing about important social changes. Lear was a life-long liberal who wanted to address controversial issues through his work. The 1971 premiere of "All in the Family" brought a sea change that no one saw coming. Until then, most American sitcoms were safely following the rule book of presenting non-controversial scenarios. It was rule followed by even the greatest and most beloved comedy shows such as "The Honeymooners" and "The Andy Griffith Show". With "All in the Family", Lear introduced the character of Archie Bunker, played in immortal style by Carroll O'Connor. Archie was a working class stiff from the working class borough of Queens, New York. He was rude, crude, selfish and bigoted. However, Lear was wise enough to also give him redeeming qualities, 'lest audiences would quickly tire of tuning in each week to simply be offended. The scripts caught the tensions of the era, in which dinner time conversation was often a battle between generations.The show was a huge hit that ran for many years and even spawned a successful follow-up series, "Archie Bunker's Place". Lear was also conscious of representing minorities in a humorous but dignified manner. There were predecessors: Diahann Carroll played a Black single working mother a few years earlier in "Julia" and post- "I Spy" Bill Cosby had his own short-lived sitcom years before his legendary 1980s series. But both of these series played it safe in terms of taking on any subjects that might make white viewers uncomfortable. With "Good Times", "Sanford and Son" and "The Jeffersons", Lear brought Black sensibilities to TV for the first time. Audiences of all backgrounds tuned in. Lear's minority characters weren't saints. They were flawed human beings. Audiences appreciated Lear's determination not to be patronizing to the characters.The result probably went a long way to bring about racial understanding, though there's no way to measure the impact. He also produced "Maude", which was also a major hit and show that
promoted women's liberation and touched upon the most sensitive issues
of the day. Norman had his share of flops, but, fittingly, no one remembers them. Only the hits come to mind.
I only spent time with Norman Lear on one occasion, ten years ago at a party he and Carl Reiner hosted for our friend producer David V. Picker in Beverly Hills. Lear was a spry young 91 years-old at the time and listening to him and Reiner engage in hilarious banter, you felt he was immortal. Now he, Carl and David are gone. It's hard to believe they are no longer with us but their work and achievements live on and Norman's legacy is a towering one. Perhaps writer Mike Barnicle expressed it best today on the "Morning Joe" chat show: "He brought America into people's living rooms."
"Young Billy Young" is the kind of film of which it can be said, "They don't make 'em like that anymore". Not because the movie is so exceptional. In fact, it isn't exceptional on any level whatsoever. Rather, it's the sheer ordinariness of the entire production that makes one pine away for an era in which top talent could be attracted to enjoyable, if unremarkable, fare such as this. Such films, especially Westerns, were churned out with workmanlike professionalism to play to undemanding audiences that didn't require mega-budget blockbusters to feel they got their money's worth at the boxoffice. Sadly, such movies have largely gone the way of the dodo bird. In today's film industry, bigger must always be better and mid-range flicks such as are no longer made. However, through streaming services such as ScreenPix, it's possible to still enjoy the simple pleasures that such movies provide. (The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is now out of print.)
The story opens with botched robbery in Mexico committed by Billy Young (Robert Walker) and some cohorts including Jesse (David Carradine). The plan to steal horses from the Mexican military goes awry and Billy is forced to split from his fellow robbers with the army in hot pursuit. Making his way back across the border to New Mexico, he is penniless and desperate. He has a chance encounter with Ben Kane (Robert Mitchum), a tough, sarcastic older man who he encounters again in a nearby town. Here, Billy is being cheated at cards by the local sheriff, who goads him into a gunfight. Billy ends up killing him but stands to be framed for the sheriff's death. He's saved by Ben, who rides along with him to another town where Ben has agreed to take on the job of lawman. Ostensibly he is there to keep order and collect back taxes from deadbeats but in reality, he is on a mission of revenge. Some years before, Ben's son had been gunned down by a criminal named Boone (John Anderson) and Kane has learned that Boone is a presence in the new town and that he is being protected by a local corrupt businessman, John Behan (Jack Kelly). Ben makes his presence known immediately by enforcing the law in a strict manner. He's confronted by Behan, who tries to intimidate him. This results in Behan being slapped around by Kane. Behan also grows to resent the new lawman because he is flirting with his mistress, saloon entertainer Lily Beloit (Angie Dickinson). When Behan abuses her as punishment, he gets another beating from Kane. Meanwhile, Billy runs into Jesse and accuses him of having deserted him in Mexico. The two men fight it out and Jesse is later involved with the accidental shooting of the town's beloved doctor while in the employ of Behan. Kane learns that Jesse is Boone's son and holds him in jail as bait for Boone to come out of hiding. The plan works all too well. Boone turns up with a small army and lays siege to the jailhouse where Kane and Billy are holed up.
"Young Billy Young" was compared to a TV show by New York Times critic Howard Thompson on the basis that it contains so many standard elements of westerns from this time period. There is the bad girl with the heart of gold, the evil business tycoon, the brash young gun and his wiser, older mentor, the heroes outnumbered by superior forces and a lovable old coot (played against type by Paul Fix in full Walter Brennan/Gabby Hayes mode.) Yet somehow it all works very well, thanks mostly to Robert Mitchum's stalwart presence. With his trademark ramrod stiff walk and cool persona, Mitchum tosses off bon mots like a frontier version of 007. Even the Times acknowledged that "Mitchum can do laconic wonders with a good wise-crack". He has considerable chemistry with Dickinson, though the action between the sheets is more implied than shown. Robert Walker Jr. acquits himself well in the title role and David Carradine makes an impression even with limited screen time. The film was directed by Burt Kennedy, an old hand at directing fine westerns in reliable, if not remarkable, style and it all culminates in a rip-snorting shoot-out that is genuinely exciting. The fine supporting cast includes Willis Bouchey, Parley Baer and Deanna Martin (Dino's daughter) in her acting debut. One oddball element to the film: Mitchum croons the title song over the opening credits. If this sounds strange, keep in mind that Mitchum improbably once had a hit album of calypso music.
The film is currently streaming on ScreenPix, which is available to Amazon Prime customers for $2.99 a month.
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
By Lee Pfeiffer
There has been a very positive response to Cinema Retro's coverage of
"B" WWII movies in some of our back issues. Writer Howard Hughes concentrated on the films produced by Oakmont Productions, the
British-based company that financed and released such modestly-budgeted
gems as Attack on the Iron Coast, The Thousand Plane Raid, Hell Boats,
and Mosquito Squadron. These films had no lofty pretenses of being
potential Oscar winners. Instead, they were made simply to generate a
modest profit. However, they tended to be intelligently scripted and
well-directed and acted, with showcase roles afforded to stars who
didn't usually get top-billing (Lloyd Bridges, Christopher George, David
McCallum). The 1970 film Underground was not an Oakmont production but
is largely indistinguishable from the company's catalog of titles. It
stars Robert Goulet as Dawson, an embittered American agent for military
intelligence who is based in England. Dawson is wracked by guilt
because his mission behind German lines in occupied France ended
disastrously. Both he and his fellow agent (his wife) were captured.
Dawson, under extreme torture, revealed his wife's true identity and she
suffered a horrendous death at the hands of the Gestapo. Dawson managed
to escape and make his way back to England, though how he achieved this
remarkable feat is glossed over in the script. The film opens with
Dawson bluffing his way aboard a plane carrying a fellow agent on a new
mission over occupied France. Dawson, who is determined to atone for his
previous failure by taking on this mission himself, disables the agent
and parachutes in his place to meet his contacts in the French
Resistance. His French underground colleagues find him to be a bitter,
unpleasant man and it isn't long before they realize that he is an
imposter for their real contact. Nevertheless, Dawson persuades them to
let him carry out the important mission which involves kidnapping a high
profile German general who has vital intelligence information and
bringing him back to England. Dawon's team is headed by Boule (Lawrence
Dobkin), a headstrong and valiant man who frequently locks horns with
Dobson over strategy. The team also includes Yvonne (Daniele Gaubert), a
beautiful agent who is Boule's wife. Complications ensue when Dawson
shows his more human side and he and Yvonne secretly become lovers.
Underground is the kind of film that often receives the backhanded
praise of benefiting from "workmanlike" efficiency from its stars and
director Arthur H. Nadel. Yet, like the Oakmont productions, it probably
plays better in today's era of overblown, CGI-stuffed action movies
than it did at the time of its initial release. The film is tightly
scripted and the plan to capture the German general is straight out of a
top-of-the-line Mission: Impossible episode. The movie was shot on
location in Ireland but the countryside passes convincingly for France.
Goulet, grim and determined, makes for an impressive leading man and
there are fine turns by Lawrence Dobkin and Carl Duering, who is
impressive as the German general who adds a clever plot twist to the
story line. Like most of these WWII mini "epics" of the period, the
production team manages to make the film look far more expensive than it
probably was. The action sequences are exciting and well-staged,
particularly a climactic shootout as Dawson awaits the arrival of a
British plane on a makeshift runway as German forces close in on him and
his team.
Underground has been released by MGM as a region-free DVD with a rather bland cover design instead of the terrific original poster artwork. Transfer quality is very good but there are no bonus extras.
If there is such thing as a family-oriented sex farce, the 1969 hit "Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell" fits the description. The delightful concoction stars Gina Lollobrigida as Carla Campbell, a vivacious woman of relative wealth who lives in a modest Italian village. She is known for her rather upscale lifestyle that includes a live-in maid, Rosa (Naomi Stevens) and the fact that she can afford to send her 18 year-old daughter to a fancy American university in Switzerland. Life is very pleasing for Carla, who is known for using her money for charitable purposes. She has told everyone that she came by her wealth when her husband, an American officer named Captain Campbell died in action during WWII. She tells a moving tale about how she married him when he took shelter at her house when she was only 16 years old. They fell in love, married and had only a few days together before he was shipped out and killed in battle. During their brief marriage, she became pregnant with their daughter Gia (Janet Margolin), who is now far more American than Italian in her speech and mannerisms. Carla claims that her financial security comes from her late husband's family in America, which has been kind enough to send ample checks every month to provide for her and Gia. Carla also has her own boy toy, hunky Vittorio (Philippe Leroy in a very amusing performance), who oversees her small wine business. As with most Italian lovers depicted in comedies of this period, the two spend a good deal of time verbally sparring with each other but every time one of them threatens to leave, the other uses sex as lure to get her/him back.
A crisis erupts one fine morning when Carla discovers the town is preparing to host a reunion of American airmen who were stationed there during the war. Turns out she has been living a lie. She confides to Rosa and Vittorio that there had never been a "Captain Campbell" who she married. In fact, she created him out of thin air to cover the fact she was pregnant and took the name from a can of Campbell's soup! In reality, three different airmen had been housed with her family during the same week. As one moved out, another moved in...and she had relations with each of them. At the war's end, she was not certain which of them was the real father of her baby so she wrote to each man and told him he was the father. The three men all believed that he was her only lover and dutifully and secretly sent checks to Carla over a period of twenty years, continuing the practice even after they married and had kids of their own. Now the three ex-G.I.'s are coming to town and will expect to slip away from their spouses and see Carla. Making matters worse, Gia has heard about the reunion and has made a surprise return from school in order to meet the men of her father's fighting unit. All the set pieces are now firmly in place for a traditional Italian farce. There is a script flaw in that the film should be taking place some years earlier, as the age of some of the characters doesn't add up. Also, as the movie was released in 1968, why are the Americans visiting Italy to celebrate their 20th anniversary reunion? That would mean they were in the country three years after the war ended.
The three men who think they are Gia's father are a diverse lot. Justin Young (Peter Lawford) is an aristocratic playboy who is accompanied by his long-suffering wife Lauren (Marian Moses), who can barely endure his constant womanizing. She correctly assumes that he intends to hook up with another girl while in Italy for the reunion, though she doesn't know that he believes he will be seeing the mother of his daughter. Walter Braddock (Telly Savalas) also has an abrasive relationship with his wife Fritzie (Lee Grant), who constantly throws painful insults at him because the couple can't have children. (Walter doesn't believe the medical diagnosis because he feels he fathered Gia). Then there's Phil Newman (Phil Silvers) and his loyal wife Shirley (Shelly Winters in full Shelly Winters mode). The couple has their young sons along for the trip and Phil finds that every time he concocts a way to meet up with Carla, family responsibilities intrude. Finally, each man manages to contact her and Carla finds herself in the unenviable position of having them all make secret visits to her villa at the same time. This results in the predictable madcap scene in which she tries to hide them from each other. Director Melvin Frank (who co-wrote the script) demonstrates an ability to make such ancient comedy scenarios work, thanks in no small part to the presence of those great male second bananas, each of whom gets plenty of screen time. (Only Lawford seems miscast. He looks too much like a dapper movie star and no one attempts to explain why an American airman has a British accent.) Carla's complex situation becomes increasingly troublesome as pace becomes frantic, resulting in car chases, lovers quarrels, the unveiling of long-kept secrets and a very moving and sentimental finale.
Lollobrigida gives one of her best performances in this film and was nominated for a Golden Globe. The sheer amount of talent on display makes us point out once again that in days of old, such marvelous actors were taken for granted. Today, there is a dearth of great character actors and the film industry is not better off because of it. The film zips along at a brisk pace, accompanied by Riz Ortalani's inspired score, topped off by the infectious title tune which is crooned by Jimmy Rosell, which was also nominated for a Golden Globe.
The movie is currently available for streaming through Screenpix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional $2.99 a month).
"Some Kind of a Nut" is yet another obscure movie from the late 1960s (1969, to be precise) that is available through Screenpix, which is an ancillary subscription channel through Amazon Prime. The film is not currently available on home video in the U.S. and I don't know if it ever was. I was aware that the movie didn't make any impact upon its initial release but, given the amount of talent involved in it, I thought it was time to invest 90 minutes of my life to see a collaboration between star Dick Van Dyke and legendary writer/director Garson Kanin. Van Dyke was a hot property at the time, having left his classic TV sitcom "The Dick Van Dyke Show" to concentrate on a career in feature films, where he initially found considerable success. Van Dyke was busy with so many projects at the time that "Some Kind of a Nut" had a bizarre shooting schedule to accommodate him. According to the TCM web site, some of the film was shot in May of 1968 with the rest filmed in January 1969. The logistics of arranging this with a full cast and crew must have been challenging but Van Dyke's presence in the film led United Artists to agree to the terms. The company had recently released "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" with Van Dyke in the starring role. The studio was also seeking a long-term relationship with Garson Kanin and signed him to a four-picture deal arranged by producer Walter Mirisch, but none of the other projects came to fruition and Kanin retired from making feature films after "Some Kind of a Nut".
Van Dyke is cast as Fred Amidon, a mousey bank teller who works in a busy branch in the heart of mid-town Manhattan. He and the other employees suffer in an Orwellian atmosphere under the thumb of a priggish, humorless boss who demands complete conformity with conservative banking policies. Fred is also carrying the weight of his pending divorce from his wife Rachel (Angie Dickinson) which will be finalized in a few weeks time. His one pleasant diversion is his romantic relationship with fellow bank clerk Pamela Anderson (no, not that Pamela Anderson) played by Rosemary Forsyth. While enjoying a precious lunch hour together in Central Park, Fred is stung on the chin by a bee. The painful sting proves to be stubborn and won't go away even when the couple leave on a cross-country vacation. Frustrated by the unsightly wound on his chin, Fred decides to grow a beard. (For a bank with prison-like working conditions, the institution must have a very liberal vacation policy, as Fred and Pamela have enough time to drive to San Francisco and back and for Fred's beard to come into full glory.) Upon returning to the bank, his new appearance causes a scandal. His boss insists that he shave it off, as beards are against bank policy. When Fred refuses, he is summarily fired. His stance earns him the respect of his fellow employees and when the media learns of his situation, he becomes a cause celebre. Before long, Fred becomes a reluctant hero to everyday people who are fed up with having to conform to outdated policies in society. He is particularly embraced by the counter-culture movement, making him an unlikely figurehead for local hippies. He has more problems: his soon to be ex-wife Rachel reconnects with him because she is impressed by his new-found courage. This complicates things with Pamela, who detests the beard and the symbolism it represents. She's under the influence of her two meddlesome brothers who seek to compromise Fred's status as a cult figure. Meanwhile, Fred starts to dabble in Eastern mysticism and begins consulting an Asian guru in one of the film's funniest scenes. Beyond this, however, Kanin's script is anything but unpredictable and you can pretty much guess the outcome of the movie long before it arrives.
"Some Kind of a Nut" was filmed under the working title "The One with the Fuzz". It was a dud with critics and audiences, as was often the case when older filmmakers tried to be relevant to the anti-Establishment crowd of the era. (All the hippies are safe, joyous and satisfied carrying protest signs that are about as controversial as "No Trespassing". There isn't a hint of the Vietnam War and civil rights protests that defined the era, let alone any expletives. The film paints a Brady Bunch-like depiction of a time that never was. Nevertheless, the script does have something to say about the price of conformity, expressed in comical fashion through the inimitable talents of Dick Van Dyke, who makes otherwise unfunny scenes amusing. Angie Dickinson has a rather bland role and her screen time is limited, though director Kanin ensures there is a scene set at a swimming pool for no other reason than to present the welcome sight of Dickinson in a bikini.The film also has the virtue of presenting some nostalgic scenes shot on location in Manhattan. For Dick Van Dyke, the movie would be the first of two feature films released in 1969 that were ambitious in content but failures at the boxoffice and with critics, although the second film, Carl Reiner's comedy/drama "The Comic" has earned respect over the years in certain quarters. Van Dyke would only star in one more comedy on the big screen, "Cold Turkey", released in 1971. That film proved to be quite popular. Thereafter, he would not star in a feature film for another eight years, when he appeared in the leading role in Stanley Kramer's admirable but under-appreciated final movie "The Runner Stumbles", in which Van Dyke gave a fine dramatic performance. He returned to the medium where he had originally found success: television and his late career series "Diagnosis: Murder" would prove to be a major hit that ran for many seasons.
("Some Kind of a Nut" is currently streaming on Screenpix, available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional $2.99 a month.)
A film that became a legendary bomb, the 1977 Western The White Buffalo has
been re-evaluated by movie fans in recent years and many consider it to
be an underrated classic. Count me out of this assessment. The film is
certainly unique: an ambitious attempt to blend the Western and horror
film genres, but it falls short on most counts.The United Artists
production stars Charles Bronson as Wild Bill Hickcok, who- for reasons
never adequately explained- is haunted by terrifying nightmares
involving him in a life-or-death confrontation with a giant white
buffalo. I didn't know that buffalo come in colors, but I'll cede the
point. (Given the dreadful styles of the 1970s, it's surprising the film
wasn't titled The Plaid Buffalo.) Simultaneously, Chief Crazy
Horse (Will Sampson) is having his own white buffalo problems. Seems the
actual rampaging beast wreaked havoc on his village and killed his
child. In order to restore his pride and stature among the tribe, he
must hunt down and slaughter the animal- or be stuck with the monicker
of "The Worm" henceforth. (This must be the Indian equivalent of
"nerd".)
The two men are on obsessive journeys and are destined to meet up -
but both feel they have the singular right to kill the buffalo. Hickcok
meanders through some cow towns under an alias and hooks up with a
mountain man geezer (Jack Warden, channeling the ghost of Gabby Hayes)
who decides to accompany him on his quest. When Hickcok and Crazy Horse
do meet up, they end up saving each other's life in respective ambushes
and declare themselves blood brothers. Despite this, each man is
determined to be the one who slays the white buffalo.
The film is moody and atmospheric and at times is offbeat enough
that, if it weren't for the Colorado scenery, one might suspect this is
an Italian Western. Nevertheless, the screenplay by producer, screenwriter and director Richard Sale (based
on his novel) is erratic and contains many disparate elements that never
blend together in a satisfactory manner. The film is peppered with
welcome appearances by many Western favorites (Stuart Whitman, Slim
Pickens, John Carradine) but their characters are superfluous and smack
of gimmicky cameos. Clint Walker shows up briefly, well-cast and playing
against type as a villain. There is also the rather odd presence of Kim
Novak in a nothing role as a good-hearted hooker who suffers the
humiliation of being rejected by Hickcok even as he shares her bed.
(This must be the first case of erectile dysfunction caused by a white
buffalo.)
The movie was an attempt by producer Dino De Laurentiis to exploit
the dying Western genre by finding a way to incorporate elements of Jaws. De
Laurentiis seemed to have a fixation on giant, mythic animals taking
vengeance on mankind, as he produced "King Kong", "Orca" and "The White
Buffalo" all within a two-year period. Despite
the prestigious cast and the fact that this was a United Artists
production, the budget was clearly skimpy. The film abounds with shoddy
rear screen projection shots and some amateurish sets, particularly in
the mountain sequences set at night. There's plenty of plastic snow and
the sets are somewhat less realistic than a Christmas window display at
Macy's. Then there is the titular character of which much has been
written in movie lore. Apparently devoid of anything other than a $20
bill for special effects work, the white buffalo is generally shot in
extreme closeup in very brief cuts to mask its ludicrous appearance.
Although the buffalo is seemingly immortal and can crash through
mountains of snow and cave walls, it never looks any more menacing than a
slightly perturbed mountain goat. The analogies to Moby Dick also
become a bit too obvious especially when Crazy Horse rides atop the
beast, flaying at it with a knife. (just like Ahab and the whale- get
it?) All of this is set to an atmospheric if somewhat low-key score by
John Barry that fits the proceedings well.
Perhaps the most unintentionally amusing aspect of the movie is the
initial meetings between Hickcok and Crazy Horse. The two men face each
other and gesture with elaborate Indian sign language- despite the fact
they are simultaneously speaking to each other in perfect English! This
is as practical as using signal flags to communicate with a dinner
companion and seems more suited to an episode of Police Squad.
Despite all of these criticisms, there is something admirable about the concept of The White Buffalo in
that the film at least tries to be an original take on an age-old
genre. It also represents one of the last movies in which Charles
Bronson at least tried to stretch his acting muscles. With his saggy
eyes and droopy mustache, he's perfectly cast as Hickcok. The failure of
this film seemed to discourage his professional ambitions. With a
couple of exceptions (Telefon, Death Hunt) Bronson went happily
into B movie hell, churning out low-rent but profitable potboilers aimed
at inner city and drive-in audiences. The shame of it is that he also
encouraged once respected directors like J. Lee Thompson and Michael
Winner to go along with him.
The White Buffalo was one of those major failures that initiated the virtual end of the Western film genre, and it was Heaven's Gate three
years later that nailed the coffin shut. The Bronson film has grown in
stature as a curiosity in the ensuing years and apologists claim that
the chintzy set pieces must have been intended in order to convey the
dream-like quality of the plot. Much the same has been said of
Hitchcock's Marnie, which was also heavily criticized for its
abysmal sets, rear screen production work and use of matte paintings.
However, in both cases the hypothesis seems unlikely. They were simply
troubled productions overseen by directors who seem to have lost
interest in their respective projects. Universal ended up losing money
on the Hitchcock drama while United Artists was forced to pick up the
tab for the buffalo bill, if you'll pardon the pun.
The White Buffalo has recently been re-released by Kino
Lorber
Studio Classics. The transfer is superb, which only makes the white
buffalo look even phonier, but that just adds to the fun. An original
trailer is included and this time around, a commentary track has been
added by Paul Talbot, author of the terrific "Bronson's Loose" books.
Talbot admits he's obsessed by Bronson and his films and provides a
master class on the making of The White Buffalo. His track is
highly informative, if lacking in humor, as he discusses the career
credits of virtually every actor who appears in a speaking role.
Talbot's contribution makes the film worth obtaining, even if you had
the earlier version.
Richard Roundtree, whose portrayal of New York City private eye John Shaft made the character an iconic pop culture symbol, has passed away from pancreatic cancer at age 81. Roundtree was not the first actor to elevate the the image of Black male characters on the big screen. Stars such as Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, Jim Brown and Fred Williamson preceded him. However, Roundtree had his own inimitable style as Shaft: brash, self-assured and cocky. Poitier's detective Virgil Tibbs was also a ballsy man of action but, as a police officer, he still had to stay within the system. Roundtree's Shaft had his own rules and code of ethics. The success of "Shaft" for MGM in 1971 also was a milestone for director Gordon Parks, making him the first Black director of a highly successful big studio film. Isaac Hayes's Oscar-winning classic title song also helped elevate the film's success. The MGM production inspired two sequels: "Shaft's Big Score" and "Shaft in Africa" as well a a short-lived TV series starring Roundtree. The actor would also appear as the same character in spin-off feature films released in 2000 and 2019. However, there was far more to Roundtree's talents and career and he worked consistently in TV and films before and after the release of the original Shaft film. Click here for more.
Although the practice is all but obsolete today, for decades radio spots were used to promote new films to American audiences. For many of us, this was an era where you felt like your social status had improved immeasurably if your latest used car had the ability to pick up FM radio stations, even if the vehicle could be relied upon to break down several times a week. Radio spots generally ran in a variety of lengths ranging from 60 seconds to 10 seconds. Because they lacked visual elements, the producers of the tracks often used sensationalistic tactics to gain the attention of listeners, often stressing the most comedic or shocking elements of the film depending upon its subject matter. As with all things nostalgic, there is a passionate interest in radio spots among some retro movie fans who collect the vinyl discs. Most were released on 45 RPM but in earlier versions from the 1950s, they were usually on 33 1/3" records.
Here is an original 1973 radio spot for William Friedkin's "The Exorcist".
"The Hawaiians" was regarded as a cinematic misfire, was released in England under the title Master of the Islands. The
1970 big budget movie was a critical and commercial failure in its day,
but evaluating it after all these years leads the viewer to accentuate
its many positive elements. The story is actually an official
continuation of James Michener's Hawaii, which was made into a
major film in 1966 that curiously also underwhelmed critics and public.
This sequel doesn't have the epic proportions of its predecessor, but it
does boast some impressively lush production values and a typically
enticing score by Henry Mancini. For this film, Heston reunited with director Tom Gries, with whom he made the vastly under-appreciated 1968 Western "Will Penny"which
Heston regarded as one of his most satisfying artistic accomplishments.
He is cast against type here in a somewhat unsympathetic role during a
period of his career in which he was typically cast as a stalwart heroic
figure. Heston plays Whip Hoxworth, a hard-nosed sea captain who
transports luckless Chinese immigrants to Hawaii where they become
cheated, abused and enter into what amounts to indentured servitude. The
opening sequence finds the Chinese crammed into the sweltering hold of
the ship and falling victim to illness and malnutrition. Hoxworth only
adds to their misery by applying beatings and coldly calculating his
human cargo in terms of acceptable deaths, 'lest his ultimate profits
fall short of expectations. Hoxworth is the black sheep of a wealthy
family. He is cut out of his father's will and has a contentious
relationship with his siblings, who have little use for him. Barred from
further sea duties, he is relegated to a failing plantation which he is
determined to turn into a success, if only to spite his relatives.
Geraldine Chaplin is his half-Hawaiian wife, whom he adores but who, for
reasons never satisfactorily explained in the script, turns frigid
after their son is born.
The film tells a parallel story about
the plight of two immigrants who work on his plantation: Nyuk Tsin (Tina
Chen) and Mun Ki (Mako), two people who, through necessity, live as man
and wife even though Mun Ki tells Nyuk Tsin that the children she has
borne him will not be considered hers. Instead, Chinese tradition
dictates that they will ultimately return to China where his wife will
assume the mantle of mother and Nyuk Tsin will be relegated to the
status of an aunt. The couple's hard work appeals to Hoxworth's
generally dormant sympathies and he allows them to prosper financially,
especially when they successfully grow the first pineapples on Hawaii - a
development that makes Hoxworth rich. However, the film piles crisis
upon crisis on each of the major characters, including political
intrigue, armed revolution and, in particularly affecting sequences,
outbreaks of leprosy and plague. John Phillip Law appears late in the
134-minute film as Heston's grown son, whose humanitarianism brings him
into direct conflict with his father's Machevellian ways.
The Hawiians is big-budget soap
opera at every level, but it's a consistently engrossing one. Heston
excels playing part that takes him into new territory as an actor. The
supporting cast is equally good, with both Mako and Tina Chen giving
outstanding performances. It can't be said that the film is an
unqualified success, but it's never boring and it probably seems more
impressive today than it did at the time of its initial release. It
should be mentioned that the movie has a fine score by Henry Mancini.
There are worse fates than spending a couple of hours with Heston under
any circumstance.
(Now streaming on Screenpix, available to Amazon Prime subscribers for $2.99 a month.)
Sam Peckinpah made some great movies but even the best of them were often associated with unpleasant aspects during production and in the release of the films. Peckinpah's maverick personality, hard drinking and drug use resulted in big problems with studio brass. Sometimes his films would be severely edited against his wishes. By 1974, Peckinpah's personal problems were worsening, as were his relationships with the studios. Yet, he found great satisfaction with his bizarre crime film "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia". The movie received mixed reviews at the time and wasn't a major hit, but Peckinpah enjoyed the rare artistic freedom he was given by the studio to make the film his way. The movie has since become a cult favorite among retro movie fans- and even if it doesn't appeal to you, it's never boring and you can relish Peckinpah pal Warren Oates in a rare starring role. (Lee Pfeiffer)
Imprint, the Australian video label, is releasing a boxed set dedicated to the film of Marlon Brando. The discs are region-free. The edition is available for pre-order.
One of the greatest actors of all time, Marlon Brando,
brings six powerful performances to this Limited Edition boxset. Sayonara
(1957) The Fugitive Kind (1960) One-Eyed Jacks (1961) The Ugly American (1963)
Bedtime Story (1964) A Countess From Hong Kong (1967) Limited Edition 6-Disc
Hardbox. 1500 copies only. Cinema Retro's Lee Pfeiffer and contributing writers Paul Scrabo and Tony Latino provide commentary tracks for "A Countess from Hong Kong" and "Bedtime Story".
Click here to pre-order. (Prices are in Australian dollars.)
Don Knotts
came to fame with his trademark comedy style of portraying a meek, excessively
nervous character. He was Woody Allen before Woody Allen was Woody Allen.
Knotts honed his skills on Steve Allen's show in the 1950s, with his "man
on the street" Nervous Nellie routine sending audiences into fits of
laughter. He co-starred with fellow up-and-comer Andy Griffith in the hit
Broadway production of "No Time for Sergeants" and the subsequent
film version. When Griffith landed his own TV series in 1960 in which he played
the sheriff of fictional small town Mayberry, Knotts imposed upon him to write
a small, occasional part he could play as Barney Fife, Griffith's inept but
loyal sheriff. Griffith complied and the role made Knotts an icon of American
comedy, allowing him to win an astonishing five Emmys for playing the same
character. Five years into the series, Knotts was offered a multi-feature deal
by Lew Wasserman, the reigning mogul of Universal Pictures. Knotts took the
bait and enjoyed creative control over the films to a certain degree. He could
pretty much do what he wanted as long has he played the same nervous schlep audiences wanted to
see. The films had to be low-budget, shot quickly and enjoy modest profits from
rural audiences where Knotts' popularity skewed the highest. His first feature
film was The Ghost and Mr.
Chicken, released in 1966 and written by the same writing team from
the "The Andy Griffith Show". (Griffith actually co-wrote the script
but declined taking a writing credit.) The film astonished the industry,
rolling up big grosses in small markets where it proved to have remarkable
staying power. Similarly, his next film, The
Reluctant Astronaut also proved to be a big hit, as was his
1969 western spoof The
Shakiest Gun in the West. Within a few years, however,
changing audience tastes had rendered Knotts' brand of innocent, gentle humor
somewhat moot. By the late 1960s audiences were getting their laughs from the
new film freedoms. It was hard to find the antics of a middle-aged virgin much
fun when you could see Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice cavorting in the same
bed. Still, Knotts soldiered on, providing fare for the drive-in markets that
still wanted his films. In 1969 he made The
Love God?, a very funny and underrated film that tried to be more
contemporary by casting Knotts as an innocent ninny who is manipulated into
fronting what he thinks is a magazine for bird watchers but, in reality, is a
cover for a pornography empire. Knotts' traditional audience balked at the
relatively tame sex jokes and for his final film for Universal, How to Frame a Figg, he
reverted back to his old formula.
Released in
1971, Figg casts
Don Knotts as the titular character, Hollis Figg, a nondescript wimp who toils
as an overlooked accountant in a basement of city hall. The film is set in a
Mayberry-like small town environment but any other similarity ends there. In
Mayberry, only the visiting city slickers were ever corrupt. The citizenry may
have been comprised of goofballs and eccentrics, but they were all scrupulously
honest. In Figg's world, however, the top government officials are all con-men
and crooks. They are ruled by the town's beloved paternal father figure, Old
Charley Spaulding (Parker Fennelly), a decrepit character who hands out pennies
to everyone he encounters, with the heart-warming greeting "A shiny penny
for your future!" In fact, Old Charley has plenty of those pennies
stashed away. He and his hand-picked fellow crooks, including the mayor and
police chief, have been systemically ripping off the state by grossly inflating
the costs of local building projects and secretly pocketing the overages.
Concerned that the accountants might get wind of their activities, they
summarily fire them all except for Figg, who is deemed to be too naive to ever
catch on. They justify the firings by saying it's fiscally prudent and replace
the accountants with a gigantic computer that is supposed to be even more
efficient. Through a quirk of fate, Figg and his equally naive friend, Prentiss
(Frank Welker), the janitor for city hall, discover exactly what is going on.
Figg dutifully reports his findings to the mayor (Edward Andrews), who
convinces him to keep it secret while he launches his own investigation. Old
Charley, the mayor and their cohorts decide to make Figg the fall guy for the
corrupt practices. They give him a big promotion, a new red convertible and
even hire a private secretary for him. She's Glorianna (Yvonne Craig), a leggy
femme fatale who wears mini skirts and oozes sex. When her attempts to seduce
Figg leave him paralyzed with fear because of his allegiance to his new
girlfriend, the equally virginal waitress Ema Letha (Elaine Joyce), Glorianna
gets Figg drunk, takes some embarrassing photos of him and then proceeds to have
him sign a stream of incriminating documents that he has not bothered to read.
Before long, Figg is blamed for all the missing funds and faces a jail
sentence- unless he and the dim-witted Prentiss can figure out how to use the
computer to thwart the real crooks.
The fifth
season of 'Icons Unearthed' will focus on Bond, James Bond.
Directed by
Brian Volk-Weiss (The Toys That Made Us, The Movies That Made Us, Behind the
Attraction), Alyssa Michek (Icons Unearthed), and Ben Frost (Icons Unearthed),
the documentary series features exclusive, candid interviews with the people
that helped make the franchise popular.
Appearances
include George Lazenby, Gloria Hendry (who will also narrate the
series), Caroline Munro, Catherine Schell, Terence Mountain, Andreas
Wisniewski, Trina Parks, Vic Armstrong, John Glen, Jeffrey Caine, Norm
Wanstall, Lee Pfeiffer, Ajay Chowdhury, and Matthew Field.
MI6 can
confirm the following episode titles and premiere dates:
Icons
Unearthed: James Bond
Episode 1: A Spy Is Born - Wed, Oct 4, 2023
Episode 2: The Man Who Wouldn't Be King - Wed, Oct 11, 2023
Episode 3: James Bond-Changing Times - Wed, Oct 18, 2023
Produced by The Nacelle Company, 'Icons Unearthed: James
Bond' will broadcast on VICE TV.
Only a week after we congratulated David McCallum on his 90th birthday comes the sad news that he has passed away from natural causes in New York City, where he resided. I have nothing but wonderful memories of the time I spent with him. Like most boys who grew up in the spy rage of the 1960s, I became a big fan of "The Man from U.N.C.L.E.", though I had admired his work in "The Great Escape" and "The Greatest Story Ever Told" even before then. His portrayal of Judas in the latter film was particularly haunting because he played him as a tragic and sympathetic figure. The success of "U.N.C.L.E." unexpectedly thrust David and his co-star Robert Vaughn into becoming international teenage idols. It was a distinction neither man had sought. At the height of the mania, David was to appear at Macy's in New York to promote his record album. The event was besieged by screaming teenage girls to such a degree that the police had to call the event off and hide David until the crowd had dissipated. The show ran from September, 1964 through January, 1968. Although David and Robert enjoyed their time on the series and were grateful for the fame and fortune they gained from it, both men were eager to move on. David worked steadily in feature films and in live theater. Many years later, he landed the role of pathologist "Ducky" Mallard on the hit CBS series "NCIS". As the years went by, David joked to me that he kept trying to quit the series due to his advanced years but the producers always found a way to keep him on board. He seemed to love every minute he worked on the series.
What many people don't know is that David, the son of an acclaimed conductor in his native Scotland, was also a talented musician, arranger and composer who had some acclaimed albums in the 1960s. In recent, years he tried his hand at writing novels and found success in that endeavor, as well. At one point, I reunited David with my good friend, actor Joe Sirola, who had played a villain on a couple of episodes of "U.N.C.L.E." It gave me great pleasure to see them reignite their friendship and David would show up at Joe's legendary summer party on the terrace of his New York penthouse. When Dave Worrall and I began publishing Cinema Retro 20 years ago, David was a contributor. He was always reluctant to talk about himself and his career, but after one interview session he said he found it "therapeutic" to recall so many wonderful times in the acting profession that he had not thought about in many years. A very special evening occurred in 20009 at The Players, the legendary club for the arts in New York City. I was hosting a black tie dinner in honor of Robert Vaughn. During the cocktail hour he said, "I only wish David could have been here." Shortly thereafter, David and his wife Katherine did show up, causing many sophisticated middle-aged women to gasp with delight. David had told me he couldn't make the event but at the last minute he found a way to attend. It was a wonderful evening, especially when David gave a marvelous and touching speech about his former co-star. Years later, it would pain me to have been the one to break the news to David that Robert had passed away.
(L to R:) Lee Pfeiffer, David McCallum, Robert Vaughn and Joe Sirola at The Players dinner for Vaughn in 2009.
(Photo: Tom Stroud)
David was first married to actress Jill Ireland and the couple had three children: Paul, Jason and Valentine. After they divorced, David met and married Katherine Carpenter in 1967. They had two children: Peter and Sophie. David adored his wife and family and always spoke of them with great pride.
While I mourn David's passing, I take solace from the fact that he did not suffer and was surrounded by laughter and love for most of his life. In an increasingly cynical age, David represented the vanishing attributes of graciousness and modesty. I had left him a phone message on his 90th birthday and had planned to get together with him soon. That won't happen but I can appreciate the time I spent with him over the years. He was a talented actor and musician, a good family man and a person who left his mark on the profession he loved. Thanks for the memories, David.
If something seems too good to be true, it's probably going to turn out to be too good to be true. Amazon Prime's streaming service has offered an exceptional library of new, original series and films as well as a treasure trove of retro movies that can be streamed commercial-free. That will come to an end in early 2024 when "ad-free" streaming will now command an additional monthly fee of $2.99 in the USA for customers who currently pay $14.99 a month. International customers will presumably be charged the approximate amount in local currency. There will be no increase in fees if you're willing to see classic movies interrupted by advertisements. If you're reading Cinema Retro, you're probably as snooty as we are about how we watch the movies we love. However, the truth is that the general public is very undemanding when it comes to movie viewing. That's how American cable TV channels can still find people who will sit through a telecast of censored versions of "Apocalypse Now" or "Jaws" along with many other classics with accompanying ads for everything from cars to hemorrhoid medicine. While it isn't our intention to carry water for Amazon, the increased price still seems reasonable for gaining access to so many films including plenty of titles that are not available on home video. For more, click here.
Although I have a weak spot for Italian westerns of the 1960s and 1970s, most can be appropriately evaluated by paraphrasing Longfellow: "When they were good, they were very, very good, and when they were bad, they were horrid." "Blindman" is a curiosity from 1971 that I previously panned after viewing an allegedly "remastered" DVD edition that looked barely better than a VHS transfer. The film fits rather comfortably into the latter part of Longfellow's famous nursery rhyme. Although the movie has a devoted fan base, when I first reviewed it I call it "a pretty horrid experience and inexcusably amateurish in execution, given the well-seasoned people involved". The good news is that Abkco Films has released a truly remastered DVD version that considerably improves one's perception of the film. As the title implies, it's about...well, a blind man. He's played by Tony Anthony, who did rather well for himself as a sort of Clint Eastwood Lite character known as The Stranger in a series of Euro Westerns (Any similarity to Eastwood's Man With No Name must have been purely coincidental). Anthony went on to star in any number of lucrative, low-budget action films, the most notable being "Comin' At Ya!, a 3-D flick that has also built a loyal cult following. His co-star in "Blindman" is Ringo Starr. More about him later. The film was based on a Japanese movie titled "Zatoichi" about a blind samurai hero. As with "The Magnificent Seven", which was based on Kurasawa's "Seven Samurai", the story has been transplanted to the American west. When we first see the Blindman (whose name is never mentioned), he rides into a one-horse town and confronts his former partners. Seems they had a lucrative contract to deliver 50 mail order brides to some horny miners. However, a better offer was made from a Mexican bandito named Domingo (Lloyd Battista), who has exported them South 'O the Border to force them into prostitution. Blindman apparently has a sense of honor in terms of fulfilling the original contract. He manages to kill his former partners and sets off to Mexico to rescue the women, presumably so they can sold into another form of prostitution. At first the premise of this film intrigued me. How, after all, can you logically present a story about a blind gunslinger? The answer is you apparently can't. You could get away with it if the film was a satire, but there is surprisingly little overt humor in "Blindman". Yes, in true Eastwood fashion, the hero sometimes makes some snarky quips before, during and after dispatching his adversaries, but for the most part, the film takes itself far too seriously.
How does the Blindman find his way around? Well, he has his own "wonder horse" who seems more like a companion than a beast of burden. The hoofed hero is always at his disposal and seems to be able to do everything but read a map for him. Speaking of maps, Blindman gets to various destinations by running his finger over maps that engraved in leather...sort of a braille system. Given the fact that he has to navigate the state of Texas, then Mexico, one would think he would require maps the size of rolls of kitchen linoleum, but somehow he gets by with navigational tools that fit neatly into his pocket. When Blindman arrives in Mexico, he has numerous confrontations with the brutal Domingo and his army of thugs. He suffers the ritualistic beatings of any hero in the Italian western genre, but always manages to get the better hand by his deadly use of the rifle that he uses as a walking stick. Somehow the Blindman can use instinct and an uncanny hearing ability to gun down his would-be assassins with uncanny precision, though occasionally he does impose on some allies for advice. He also confronts Candy (Ringo Starr), Domingo's equally sadistic brother, who is keeping a captive woman as his mistress. What follows is a seemingly endless series of chases, confrontations and the obligatory imitation Morricone score, all of it under the pedestrian direction of Ferdinando Baldi, who has a revered reputation with some fans of the genre and does manage to set off some impressive explosions. (Amusingly, the concept of showing the "50" mail order brides must have taxed the limited budget so we only get to see them in small clusters.). There are a couple of sequences that stand out in terms of creativity. One involves the surprise slaughter of a barroom filled with Mexican soldiers. The other has a bit of suspense as the Blindman is served a food bowl that he doesn't realize contains a deadly snake. The finale of the film finds Blindman wrestling with Domingo, who has been blinded by a cigar! (Don't ask...) It's supposed to be a tense confrontation, but the sight of the two blind guys rolling around in the dirt looks like an outtake from a Monty Python sketch. The most intriguing aspect of the film is what led Ringo Starr into appearing in it. He had considerable on-screen charisma that he parlayed into a successful acting career. Here, however, his role is colorless and bland. He doesn't even play the main villain, but rather a supporting character who disappears from the story before the movie even reaches the one-hour mark. Starr supposedly was looking to jump-start his film career and worked with Tony Anthony to develop this production. While he acquits himself credibly, he might have at least given his character some memorable lines or characteristics.
The previously reviewed version of the film pointed out that the packaging had indicated the film had a running time of 105 minutes, which matches with the original timing cited on on the IMDB site. However, the screener we reviewed ran only 83 minutes and it looked like it had been edited with a meat cleaver. The ABCKO version is the actual 105 minute cut and the transfer is excellent, a vast improvement over the muddy mess we had previously reviewed. Seeing "Blindman" again under these conditions has allowed me to reevaluate my opinion of the film. While it certainly never rises to the standards of a Sergio Leone production, the movie's quirky premise and the amusing performance by Tony Anthony made the experience far more enjoyable the second time around.
(David and Cinema Retro Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer. Photo: Cinema Retro.)
We congratulate David McCallum on his milestone 90th birthday....and not showing any signs of slowing down! David has always been there for Cinema Retro, making numerous contributions over the last 20 years. Aside from his acting talents, David is also the epitome of a true gentleman.
In the wake of their success co-starring in John Huston's The Maltese Falcon, Warner
Brothers realized they had captured lightning in a bottle with the
teaming of Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre. The studio quickly paired
the two character actors again in the Bogart films Casablanca and Passage to Marseilles. In 1944, Warners decided to give Greenstreet and Lorre what amounted to starring roles in the thriller The Mask of Dimitrios, based
on the Eric Ambler novel and set in pre-WWII Europe. (Lorre received
fourth billing in the film behind Greenstreet, Zachary Scott and Faye
Emerson, but in terms of screen time, he is the star of the movie.)
Lorre plays Cornelius Leyden, a mild mannered crime novelist who is
visiting Istanbul, where he becomes intrigued by the murder of a man
named Dimitrios, who was a local legend in terms of his criminal
activities. Dimitrios's body has washed ashore, as shows evidence that
he has been stabbed to death. Sensing a good story in the murder, Leyden
pursues the man's background and finds out he was known throughout
Europe for his audacious crimes. Leyden decides to track down those who
interacted with Dimitrios, including jilted partner and abandoned
girlfriends. All agree that he was a charismatic cad who worked his way
up from petty crimes in Istanbul to being an integral part of Europe's
pre-war espionage activities. Leyden is followed in his footsteps by
Peters (Sydney Greenstreet), an affable man of mystery who is also
obsessed with tracking down Dimitrios's acquaintances and activities
leading up to the man's death. After a rocky introduction at the point
of Peters' gun, the two men forge an alliance and travel through Turkey,
Yuguoslavia and finally Paris in their quest. Along the way, they
determine that Dimitrios is very much alive and well, having used
another man's murder as an opportunity to fake his own death. Peters is
determined to use that information to blackmail Dimitrios and thus
ensure acquiring enough money to afford a comfortable retirement.
Much of the story is told in flashbacks as various individuals relate
their experiences with Dimitrios to Leyden and Peters. As played by
Zachary Scott, Dimitrios lives up to his legend as handsome womanizer
and persuasive businessman, though each of his friends and partners ends
up being abruptly jilted in some manner, as Dimitrios moves on to his
next scam. (Jack Warner had high hopes for Scott becoming the studio's
next great leading man, but his interest in promoting Scott seemed to
wane and the actor never really acquired the stardom that his role in
this film would seem to have assured.) Leyden and Peters also meet
Irana, an entertainer in a squalid Istanbul cafe, who relates how
Dimitrios became her lover and ensured that her fortunes improved.
However, when she loaned him her savings, he abandoned her, never to be
heard from again. Although nursing a broken heart and bearing resentment
for the man on one level, she admits she still carries a torch and his
abandonment of her left her in a depressed state of mind that still
continues. (Apparently, once you've experienced Dimitrios, no other man
comes to close as a lover.) As Leyden and Peters close in on their prey,
the stakes become higher - and they realize their lives are very much
at risk.
The Mask of Dimitrios, ably directed by Jean Negulesco, is a joy to watch. It doesn't have the artistic pretensions of The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca, but
it is a thoroughly entertaining movie. Lorre and Greenstreet's "Mutt
and Jeff" act continues to present them as essentially the same
character in film after film, but that doesn't in any way compromise the
delight of watching these two eccentric actors at the peak of their
careers. The supporting performances are also equally delightful and the
film bares all the rich artistic hallmarks of a WB release from the
era.
The Warner Archive has released the film on DVD. The
transfer is excellent. An original trailer is included that features
specially-filmed footage of Greenstreet and Lorre addressing the
audience. The DVD is region free but it's time for a Blu-ray release!
CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE
When Lillian Helllman's "Toys in the Attic" debuted on Broadway in 1960, it was not unanimously acclaimed but it did win enough acclaim to secure major Tony nominations and enjoy a healthy run that lasted over one year. The show was an important career boost for up-and-coming Jason Robards, who played the male lead. In 1963, United Artists brought the play to the screen, directed by future Oscar winner George Roy Hill. It was Hill's second major film following "Period of Adjustment" the year before. In the 1950s and early 1960s, studios were enamored of moss-dripping family dramas set in the deep South. That's because this sub-genre often derived from the works of acclaimed authors such as Hellman, Tennessee Williams and William Inge. Some memorable films resulted: A Streetcar Named Desire, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Baby Doll and The Long Hot Summer among them. Although these stories diverge in terms of plot, there is a commonality: they generally deal with an emotionally-wrought woman or women who are devoted to a manipulative and generally charismatic cad."Toys in the Attic" is firmly entrenched in this scenario. Dean Martin plays Julian Berniers, a ne're-do-well hunky young man who returns to his family home in New Orleans with his new bride, Lily (Yvette Mimieaux). The house is occupied by Julian's two spinster sisters, Carrie (Geraldine Page) and Anna (Wendy Hiller), both of whom live in self-imposed isolation, largely removed from the outside world. Julian's reputation as a man with big dreams and small results precedes him. He has lost a valuable factory and is presumed in bankruptcy. However, he appears in a jubilant mood bearing expensive gifts for his bewildered sisters. Carrie is especially overjoyed to see him, having harbored incestuous feelings for Julian for many years. She takes an instant dislike to the affable but naive Lily, largely due to personal jealousy. Julian is loaded with cash after concluding a mysterious $150,000 business deal that he won't reveal the details of. He assures his sisters that their days of financial challenges are over and even books them on a European cruise. However, there are consequential aspects to the secrets that Julian keeps and as they are eventually unwoven, a web of lies, deceit and betrayal are unveiled with devastating consequences for all.
"Toys in the Attic" probably works better as a stage production. Director George Roy Hill, confined by a modest budget, doesn't try to "open up" the tale, as there are very few exterior shots in the film. In some cases, this proves to be a wise choice when transferring a stage production to the screen, as evidenced by "A Streetcar Named Desire" and "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?". However, "Toys in the Attic" simply looks like a cheapo production despite the impressive cast. Dean Martin registers well in the role of Julian, a serial exaggerator and braggart who is finally trying to elevate himself from being known as a loser. Martin had already established himself as a serious actor in the wake of his breakup with Jerry Lewis, giving powerful performances in "The Young Lions" and "Some Came Running". Nevertheless, critics were rather cruel to him in regard to his casting in this film, but no one emerged unscathed except for Wendy Hiller, who is the only cast member whose performance is somewhat understated. Mimieux radiates wide-eyed innocence as Julian's child-like bride, but her whining and dependency grow weary to view. Coming off worst is Geraldine Page, who director Hill encourages to play her character in an over-the-top manner that comes close to Piper Laurie's lunatic mother in "Carrie". Gene Tierney makes a brief appearance as Lily's rich-but-shallow mother who Lily suspects of having paid Julien to marry her. There's also an interracial romance hinted at between Tierney's character and her Black servant, played by Frank Silvera. Apparently, this relationship was watered down from the stage production version. James Poe's screenplay is a muddled affair filled with some many eccentric characters concerned about so many scandals that the story becomes difficult to follow. New York Times critic Bosley Crowther wrote "With an eye for more melodramatics than for contours of character that might make plausible its story of two spinster sisters' odd devotion to their brother, Mr. Hill has allowed this turgid drama and his avid actors to get completely out of hand and run wild in a baffling confusion of theatrical bursts and attitudes." Other critics followed suit and the movie was a financial failure that seemed to diffuse Hollywood's belief that films about Southern scandal-scarred families meant good results at the boxoffice. Fortunately, all involved would move on to more impressive work.
"Toys in the Attic" is available on DVD through MGM.There are no bonus extras. Click here to order DVD from Amazon.
If there is any doubt that Richard Burton was one of the world's great orators, just experience this marvelous clip from a testimonial event for Frank Sinatra. I became mesmerized by Burton and his inimitable speaking style when I was just seven years-old. My parents took me to see Burton and Peter O'Toole in "Becket", a talky, non-action film that greatly impressed me largely because of Burton's command of the screen. A few months later, my parents took me to see John Huston's film version of "The Night of the Iguana". Like "Becket", an adaptation of a quirky Tennessee Williams play was hardly deemed to be popular fare for a young kid, but fortunately my parents never followed the norms when it came to exposing me to a wide range of cinematic fare. Richard Burton's skills as an actor fascinated me at this early age and my enthusiasm for his work only increased over the years from his triumphant performance in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" through some of his lesser films, which he always elevated the quality of. I did have the pleasure of seeing him on stage in the revival of "Camelot" at Lincoln Center in the early 1980s. It was a truly a thrill to experience his work in a live theater setting.
In this beautifully written and delivered tribute to Frank Sinatra's humanitarian work, it's all there on display.
"BLAST FROM THE PAST: FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES"
By Lee Pfeiffer
"Saturday Night Live" spawned many a memorable comic character, some of whom were exploited in feature films. While "The Coneheads" proved to be popular on the big screen, other TV-to-cinema transfers of iconic "SNL" pop culture figures proved to be duds. Al Franken's memorable incarnation of Stuart Smalley was the subject of "Stuart Saves His Family", a 1995 production directed by Harold Ramis that received some surprisingly favorable reviews but ended up with a North American boxoffice gross of less than $1 million. That ranks as a major success compared to "It's Pat: The Movie", released the prior year and starring Julia Sweeney as the androgynous character that proved to be a popular staple of "SNL" during this period. Pat was a visually unattractive figure with an obnoxious manner of speaking that repulsed his/her coworkers, who were constantly striving to discover whether Pat was a male or female. Inevitably, Pat would provide unintentionally ambiguous answers to leading questions that would only heighten the mystery and thwart those who were seeking to unveil Pat's genetic makeup. As the subject of five-minute comedy sketches the concept worked great and Sweeney's Pat became a popular staple of the show. Then Hollywood came knocking. Fox approached Sweeney to turn the concept into a feature film. Sweeney admitted she couldn't envision how Pat could remain interesting to viewers in any format other than TV skits. After putting some development money into the film, Fox agreed and backed off only to have Disney's Touchstone Pictures ride to the rescue and give the production the green light. The result was a disaster. The film was given some sporadic openings only to be pulled within a week due to complete rejection by audiences. The movie's boxoffice gross in North America stands at $61,000. Although modestly-budgeted, the movie still had cost more than $10 million to make. Time has not been kind to dear Pat, as it boasts a Rotten Tomatoes score of 0%. Now those brave souls at Kino Lorber have released a Blu-ray of "Pat: The Movie" and, consequently, it's time to revisit the film.
The plot (such as it is) opens with Pat alienating everyone in his/her orbit with obnoxious behavior. A local store owner gives Pat items for free just to expedite his/her departure. Pat tries various career moves but inevitably loses every job due to ineptness. Just when things seem hopeless, Pat finds love with Chris (Dave Foley in a role originated by Dana Carvey on "SNL"), another androgynous individual. The two set up house together and live as a normal couple, though both seem blissfully unaware that their sexuality is a mystery to those around them. Are they a straight couple? A gay couple? Two men? Two women? A subplot is introduced in which a hunky new neighbor, Kyle (Charles Rocket) and his wife Stacy (Julie Hayden) find their lives disrupted by Kyle's increasing obsession with Pat. He is sexually attracted to him/her, much to the alarm of Stacy, and that attraction turns into a psychological mania that finds Kyle dressing like Pat and even stroking a doll that resembles him/her. Meanwhile, the hapless Pat blunders into some successful career steps by making an appearance with a rock band that leads to him/ her becoming a media sensation. When he/she drops by a radio station to visit a friend, Kathy (Kathy Griffin), who hosts a popular romantic advice show, Pat unintentionally upstages her and gets the hosting gig. Pat's success has alienated Chris, who breaks up the relationship and decides to move abroad. The finale finds Pat coming to grips with his/her faults and making a mad dash to a cruise ship line to prevent Chris from leaving the country.
The animosity extended to "Pat: The Movie", which was directed by
Adam Bernstein, is a bit difficult to understand. It isn't very good, to
be sure, but it's amusing at times and never veers into the overtly
offensive gross-out humor that characterizes many of today's comedies.
One of the main problems with the film is that there are no sympathetic
characters. I don't recall Pat being an overt narcissist on the "SNL"
sketches but here the character is mean-spirited, self-centered and
devoid of any likable behavior. Kyle is even more repulsive and barely
looks up when his wife leaves him. Now this is an absurdist comedy, to
be sure, but the best comedies allow the audience to relate to the
protagonists on some level. Jerry Lewis and Jim Carrey played klutzes
but they were klutzes you could cheer for. Not so with Sweeney's Pat.
Additionally, Sweeney's fears that the one-note concept could not be
sustained over the course of a feature film proved correct. Even with
the running time of 77 minutes, the movie plods. Still, there are some
genuine laughs, most of them centered on the traditional gag of those
around Pat becoming increasingly frustrated by their failure to
determine his/her sex. When Pat and Chris are presented with a gift of a
sexy corset, they both smile wryly and say "We'll enjoy this!"
There is also some genuine amusement in Pat's physical appearance, a
kind of grotesque version of Jerry Lewis's Prof. Kelp from "The Nutty
Professor". But the laughs are too few even for the abbreviated running
time. There also some annoyances that are due to simple sloppiness: when
Pat tries to escape a pursuer, she randomly enters a building only to
find the place is a night club hosting a packed, on-going, ear-splitting
rock concert taking place apparently in the middle of the afternoon. Such absurdities leave one to think that the film was slapped together quickly in order to make a fast buck.
Julia Sweeney tragically faced more challenges than the complete
failure of "It's Pat" with critics and the public. Around the time of
the film's release, her brother was diagnosed with a terminal illness.
After caring for him, she was diagnosed with cancer. Sweeney beat the
disease and made lemonade from the lemons life had handed her when she
wrote and starred in her acclaimed one-woman play, "God Said Hah!" which
chronicled her personal trials and tribulations through a comedic lens.
(The play would later be the basis for a documentary.) Her co-star
Charles Rocket fared worse, committing suicide in 2005. However, most of
those associated with the debacle of "It's Pat" found their careers
survived. Director Adam Bernstein went on to a highly successful career
in television. Dave Foley continues to work steadily in TV and films and
Kathy Griffin emerged as a popular standup comedienne and pundit on CNN
until her increasingly foul-mouthed rants backfired, topped by sending
around an image on social media depicting her holding the bloody,
severed head of President Trump. That stunt achieved the distinction of
being denounced by even the president's most ardent critics and Griffin
lost her CNN gig.
"It's Pat" opened and closed before the age of E mail and social
media had taken the world by storm. It's failure today would have been
the stuff of snarky jokes and cynical criticisms of all those involved.
However, because the film wasn't highly anticipated, it's failure
occurred without much notice or damage to anyone's personal reputation.
There's plenty of laughs left in dear Pat but they can mostly be found
in the original "SNL" skits. Ironically, with transgender issues now the topic of current debates, the film might have found a more receptive audience today.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has an impressive transfer, a teaser trailer
for the film and a gallery of other comedies available through the
company.
Following the enormous success of his variety show, NBC signed Dean Martin to a new series: celebrity roasts. These became "must-see" telecasts for millions of American viewers. The format was clearly based on the famed Friars Club roasts, minus the expletives. The "honoree" is subjected to a barrage of insults from friends and colleagues in front of a live audience. This telecast, provided by Shout! Factory, illustrates the last hurrah of the golden age of comedy with a dais consisting of the likes of Jack Benny, Milton Berle, Rich Little, Ruth Buzzi, Ginger Rogers, Foster Brooks, Henry Fonda, Totie Fields, Bob Hope, Phyllis Diller Rowan and Martin, Nipsey Russell, Don Rickles and Lucy's long-time friends and co-stars Gale Gordon and Vivian Vance. After being roasted mercilessly, Lucy exacts her "revenge" on those who took potshots at her. The show harkens back to a time when people were more open to laughing at themselves. Much of the humor would be considered to be politically incorrect today, and younger viewers would undoubtedly be appalled. But those who grew up in a different era may find it very amusing, as race, age, weight, physical appearance and drinking habits are all fair game because everyone knew it was all in fun.- Lee Pfeiffer
"A Twist of Sand" is a 1968 production currently streaming on Amazon Prime. You can be forgiven if you are not familiar with the film, as it was one of many made in this era that was not intended to be a blockbuster or win awards. It was made on a modest budget with the expectation of making a modest profit. The plot is the same time-worn scenario that had been seen in countless films: a group of misfits band together on a dangerous quest for gold. Even by 1968, the concept had enough moss on it to make penicillin but there is a reason the concept has repeatedly been recycled: it works. There is always dramatic tension among the participants and this particular tale is no exception.
The film opens with gunrunner Geoffrey Peace (Richard Johnson) and his partner and first mate David Garland (Roy Dotrice) smuggling a large batch of valuable rifles through the straits of Malta. They are intercepted by a British patrol boat and forced to dump the weapons into the sea to avoid arrest and prosecution. The ploy works but they are now destitute with their boat as their only asset. Along comes Harry Riker (Jeremy Kemp), a German fortune hunter who is accompanied by Johann (Peter Vaughan), a hulking, largely mute henchman. Riker spins a tale about having information that might lead them to a cache of priceless diamonds that is buried in an old shipwreck from hundreds of years ago. The shifting of the sands has now placed the vessel somewhere in the middle of the desert off the Skeleton Coast in South West Africa. Peace has an immediate dislike for the men but is desperate enough to agree to the expedition- and they are accompanied by Julie Chambois (Honor Blackman), whose late husband was a prospector who claimed to have unearthed and hidden the diamonds, revealing to her the exact location on the wreck. Adding to the drama is a sub-plot that reveals in flashback that Peace had been commanding a British submarine off the Skeleton Coast during WWII. A German U-Boat was disabled in a firefight and the crew was slaughtered by an errant member of Peace's submarine command who wielded a machine gun to kill all but one man, Johann, who has sworn to somehow take vengeance on the British sub commander. This rather contrived plot point is intended to add tension to the story but we all know that simply by introducing it, Johann will ultimately discover the truth and square off against Peace.
The disparate group of fortune hunters navigate through the treacherous waters off the Skelton Coast and director Don Chaffey manages to ring some momentary tension out of these scenes. I kept waiting for the cliched scenario that inevitably arises in any of these desert adventure films in which a lone attractive woman causes sexual tension among her male companions. However, screenwriter Marvin H. Albert keeps the characters rather disappointingly chaste. There's more lust to be found in an old Tarzan film than there is here. The movie improves when the motley group lands on the African coast and discovers the wreck of the ancient ship they are looking for now firmly settled into the desert sands. These are the movie's best scenes as the men desperately dig inside the wreck, facing death from being buried by sand or struck by a falling timber. The production design by John Stoller is especially impressive. Naturally, this part of a treasure hunter adventure is always when the double-crosses are introduced and this is no exception.
The script never directly divulges what year the story is taking place in, thus the viewer would be forgiven for thinking it was in contemporary times. I wondered how we were to believe that the characters would not have aged at all over a period of about 25 years. However, late in the film there is a reference to the fact that it is six years after the war, which would place the timetable sometime in the early 1950s. The rights to the novel "A Twist of Sand" by Geoffrey Jenkins had originally been obtained by Nunnally Johnson, who intended to write the script for a production starring Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr but for some reason the production never materialized. Instead, the film would eventually be made as this "B" movie production. Director Don Chaffey does a decent job, considering the budget constraints and he has a good cast. Richard Johnson plays against type as a grumpy and humorless protagonist. In real life, Johnson was one of the most humorous and charismatic people this writer has ever known. Jeremy Kemp steals his scenes as his scheming partner. Honor Blackman has very little to do and was obviously cast simply to add a bit of sex appeal.
"A Twist of Sand" is the kind of movie from this era that a I have a soft spot for. These films were competently made and entertaining, if rather forgettable. To my knowledge, the film has never been released on video in the USA, so its presence on Amazon Prime is especially appreciated.
These
four words…sorry, this single word spoken four times…by the inimitable Ben
Stein in the late John Hughes’s highly popular teen comedy Ferris Bueller’s
Day Off while reading off the attendance roster to his near catatonic high
school class has worked its way into the American lexicon to the point that it
has become recognizable to anyone even remotely familiar with the film. Like its
predecessors, the “You’re gonna need a bigger boat” ad-lib from Steven
Spielberg’s Jaws (1975), and Jack Nicholson’s quirky yet somehow
terrifying “Here’s Johnny!” from Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980),
one need not have seen the film to know from where it originated. The adults in
this film are all depicted as somehow less smart than their adolescent
counterparts and all seem to be easily duped and manipulated. Why are they
depicted this way? Was the director, who was also the writer of Mr. Mom
(1983), National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983), Sixteen Candles(1984), The Breakfast Club
(1985), Weird Science (1985) and Pretty in Pink (1986), simply
not a fan of the adult world, a modern-day J.D. Salinger?
Ferris
Bueller, the titular hero, is a Northbrook, Illinois high school student two
months shy of his high school graduation and commits a crime that all students
have at one time or another – he feigns serious illness to stay home from
school. However, it is not for nefarious purposes: he wants to get his best
friend, Cameron (Alan Ruck), out of the doldrums. His parents are complete
dolts for believing him, though his sister Jeanie (Jennifer Grey) and Principal
Rooney (Jeffrey Jones) both see right through this common ploy and the latter,
whose small-mindedness and lack of stature outside of his role of an
authoritarian, drives him to catch Ferris in the act at any cost. He goes to
great lengths to catch Bueller, breaking the rules, and even some laws, that
find him in the Bueller household, face-to-face with a vicious dog.
Playing
hooky for the day with a reluctant Cameron and Ferris’s girlfriend Sloane (Mia
Sara) whom he gets out of school posing as her father in a get-up not
dissimilar from the accoutrements he would later don as the titular Inspector
Gadget he would play in the 1999 film of the same name. The trio finds
themselves in a series of misadventures throughout Chicago via Cameron’s
upscale father’s 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder which occupies much of
the film’s running time, the most significant of which is the film’s famous and
highly celebrated moment when Ferris commandeers a float during a parade and
leads the onlookers through an impromptu lip-synch of The Beatles hit “Twist
and Shout.” It is not all fun and games, however, when we learn of Cameron’s contempt
for his father’s car which the latter supposedly cares more about than his own son.
He sublimates his anger in a highly volatile and emotional scene that proves
cathartic for Cameron and, in a way, for Ferris as well. It would explain why
Cameron is always uptight and unable to relax, something that the carefree
Ferris hopes to change. In many ways, Cameron and Jeanie are not dissimilar
from one another, as they both find teen life to be insufferable, and that
makes them the most realistic characters in the film.
Ferris
is unusual in that he is not only a free spirit, but just about everyone in his
high school, regardless of their grade level, likes him. Why? He has proven
that he can get away with just about anything. He’s also willing to help others
out of their predicaments. This mindset is what makes him elusive from
Principal Rooney, a self-appointed Truancy Officer determined to catch Ferris
in the act of cutting school because Rooney’s identity outside of high school
appears to be non-existent. He is the Coyote to Bueller’s Road Runner, and he
takes the whole situation personally.
The
film, which opened nationwide on Wednesday, June 11, 1986, differs from most
comedies in that it breaks the fourth wall in the tradition of Woody Allen’s
great Annie Hall (1977) when Ferris addresses the audience directly
during much of the action. In the pantheon of teen comedies, Ferris Bueller
is clearly de rigueur viewing and, given that it was lensed between
September and November in 1985, feels very Eighties and inspired by Matthew
Broderick’s David Lightman computer geek from John Badham’s entertaining 1983 film
WarGames with Ferris’s ability to remotely change his sick days in the
high school computer right before his principal’s very eyes. Ferris rigs his
room and front door intercom with an ingenious array of general solutions
anticipating most common eventualities that could undo his plan to keep his
parents thinking that he is sleeping off illness.
Ferris
Bueller did exceptionally
well at the box office, easily becoming an iconic Eighties Comedy, the film
that essentially made Mr. Broderick a star following his screen debut in Herbert
Ross’s Max Dugan Returns several years earlier and playing opposite
Michelle Pfeiffer in Richard Donner’s Ladyhawke (1985). Cameos abound by
a fifteen-year-old Kristy Swanson just before she became Wes Craven’s Deadly
Friend, Richard Edson, Charlie Sheen just before he made Platoon
with Oliver Stone, and comedian Louie Anderson. With the exception of some
on-set studio shots in Los Angeles and Ferris Bueller’s house location in Long
Beach, CA (eight houses away from the home that Richard Kelly’s 2001 cult
classic Donnie Darko is set in), the film is shot nearly entirely in
Illinois, the director’s home state.
Ferris
Bueller’s Day Off has
been released on 4K UHD Blu-ray by Paramount Home Video. This is the best that
the film has ever looked on video, easily besting all previous releases. It
also comes loaded with previously released extras:
There
is a feature-length audio commentary by director Hughes, the only one that he
ever recorded for his any of his films, ported over from the 1999 DVD release. Glaringly
missing from subsequent DVD and Blu-ray editions of the movie (reportedly at
the behest of the director who probably got tired of Hollywood and moved back
to his home state to keep a low profile), its inclusion here is welcome,
appreciated, and more than likely included for two reasons - a response to the
director’s untimely demise and to compel die-hard fans to fork over their
disposable income for this latest upgraded edition. It is pretty much
scene-specific with very minor tangents. It stays on-topic, and Mr. Hughes had
a very monotone and droll delivery.
The
following are all ported over from the 2006 special edition DVD
“Bueller…Bueller” and 2009 Blu-ray editions:
Getting
the Class Together: The Cast of Ferris Bueller's Day Off – this piece runs 27:45 in standard definition
and the interviews were shot in 2005. The film’s casting directors, Jane
Jenkins and Janet Hirshenson, begin this piece feeling that Matthew Broderick or
John Cusack would be great in the lead role. Mr. Broderick was in Biloxi
Blues on Broadway with Alan Ruck when he was offered the role and their
chemistry transferred over from real life to the stage, and then to the
audition when the latter was offered Cameron. Mia Sara, Jennifer Grey, Lyman
Ward, Cindy Pickett, Jeffrey Jones, Edie McClurg, Ben Stein (a very humorous
tidbit), Richard Edson, Kristy Swanson, and Jonathan Schmock all add their two
cents on their experiences.
The
Making of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
runs 15:29 and really should be much longer and for what it is, it includes
some footage shot during the filming in addition to recent interviews taking a
look back at the film, such as Jeffrey Jones and Edie McClurg and their “Help,
Hinder” game; Alan Ruck talks about the Ferrari and how three replicas were
made for the film; Matthew Broderick talks about the parade sequence and how it
was a one-shot deal and how knee surgery from years earlier affected him in the
sequence.
Who
is Ferris Bueller? runs 9:12
and collects cast members and their responses to the question from 1985-87 and
2005. Alan Ruck talks about the wardrobe fittings and how there was no
chemistry between the characters and being put at ease by the director. Ferris
is a guy who does whatever he wants and has the self-confidence that his
friends lack.
The
World According to Ben Stein
runs 10:50 and is comprised of comments from Mr. Stein in 1986 and 2005 talking
about his experiences following the success of the film, with funny tidbits
about Kurt Cobain and even President Bush (the first one) having seen the film
on Air Force One.
Vintage
Ferris Bueller: The Lost Tapes
runs 10:16 and provides outtakes from the expurgated restaurant scene of Cameron
ordering pancreas that the director refers to in his commentary.
There
was a Class Album gallery that appeared in the previous releases, but it
is inexplicably dropped from this release.
The
film’s original theatrical trailer is also missing for unknown reasons, though
you can see it here
and a later trailer to promote the Blu-ray at the time.
The
ending of the film recalls Paul Brickman’s Risky Business from 1983
(think of Tom Cruise landing on his parents’ couch when they walk in from their
trip) when Ferris makes it home just in time to get into bed as his parents
head into his room. Ferris, addressing the audience, says, “Life moves pretty
fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
This line, which is far more upbeat than the plaintive final sentences of J.D.
Salinger’s classic novel of adolescent angst The Catcher in the Rye
(1951), rings true for people more today than it did when it was filmed. Social
media, computers, and cell phones all conspire to divert our attention from the
meaningful things in life.
One
can only imagine what sort of mischief Ferris would create today with the World
Wide Web and OpenAI’s ChatGPT. Perhaps a remake is in order?
"Warner Bros.: 100 Years of Storytelling” by Mark A.
Vieira (Running Press; $40) 368 Pages, Illustrated (B&W and color);
Hardback. ISBN: 9780762482375"
Review by Lee Pfeiffer
Running Press, in association with Turner Classic Movies,
has released a glorious tribute to a legendary studio with “Warner Bros.: 100
Years of Storytelling” by noted author and film historian Mark A. Vieira. The
book features an insightful foreword written by (appropriately enough) Ben
Mankiewicz, one of the popular hosts of TCM movie presentations and a member of
the Mankiewicz family of Hollywood legend. The studio introduced sound
to the movie-going experience with the release of The Jazz Singer in 1927,
and as the press releases points out, would later “put the noir in film”
through countless crime classics that saw the rise of James Cagney, Edward G.
Robinson and Humphrey Bogart to legendary status.
The handsome coffee table
book is broken down by decade up through films released in 2021. Vieira
provides lengthy and informative introductions to each decade beginning with
the founding of the studio through the breakthroughs in new screen freedoms in
the 1960s and 1970s. However, this is a celebration of Warner Bros. that relies
primarily on photographs, reproduced in gorgeous B&W and color. There is a
photo and caption for every single film and simply flipping through the volume
is a marvelous trip down memory lane. Vieira completed the book before the studio
underwent a number of high-profile controversies in the last year that resulted
in layoffs that included the top staff of TCM itself- an act that saw major
filmmakers such as George Lucas, Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese go public
with a joint demand that TCM should remain the beloved jewel it has always
been. Whatever the future holds for WB, no one can change its monumental past
and this book is a fitting tribute to its legacy.
Those of us of a certain age can indulge in bragging rights because we saw "Jaws" when it first opened in theaters in June, 1975. I was a 19 year-old college student at the time and was serving as film critic for my campus newspaper. Ordinarily, I would have received an invitation from the studio to view the film in advance. But this was not the case with "Jaws". Perhaps the top echelon of critics were given this privilege, but Universal wanted to capitalize on the element of surprise and didn't want spoilers to leak out quickly. Thus, my girlfriend and I stood amidst the seemingly endless queue waiting for tickets on opening night. We were fortunate to get into the theater, as many disappointed patrons were turned away when the venue maxed out. To be clear, "Jaws" was not a sleeper hit; a little-heralded gem that surprised the industry by becoming a major success. Quite the contrary. Peter Benchley's bestselling novel was deemed to be the basis of a sure-fire major studio hit and Universal was optimistic from the start that the film would be a major moneymaker. However, no one could have predicted just how big of a hit the film would be, certainly not the average movie-goer who anticipated a fun flick with some genuine scares. From the first frames of the movie, I realized the film would be something special thanks to the largely untested 25 year-old director Steven Spielberg, who initially won some attention for his direction of "Duel", a 1971 American TV production in which Dennis Weaver is trapped in a deadly cat-and-mouse game with a mysterious and murderous truck driver on a desert highway. By the the time the end credits of "Jaws" rolled on screen, I knew I had seen a genuine masterpiece. The societal impact of the film was astonishing. The next day we went to the beach on the Jersey Shore. It was packed but curiously, relatively few people were in the water. The news would later report that so many people had seen the film the first day that they were wary of sticking so much as a big toe into the ocean.
The "Jaws" phenomenon has persisted through the decades, surviving lousy sequels and a barrage of bargain basement imitations. In 2005, Cinema Retro was invited to the official "Jaws Fest" on Martha's Vineyard, a marvelous event that featured cast and crew members, an appearance by Peter Benchley and the town remade into the village of Amity, complete with the original signage used in the film. The highlight was a screening of the film on the beach preceded by a special filmed welcome from Steven Spielberg. Now the ultimate tribute to the film comes to Broadway in the form of the three-character play "The Shark is Broken", co-written by Ian Shaw and Joseph Nixon. Unless you've been living in a cave, you've undoubtedly read that Shaw is the son of the late esteemed actor and playwright, Robert Shaw, who played the role of the Ahab-like shark fisherman Quint in the film. Ian (I will refer to him by his first name to avoid confusing references to his father) also plays his dad in the production. He's joined by Alex Brightman as Richard Dreyfuss and and Colin Donnell as Roy Scheider. The entire play takes place in the fishing boat Orca in which the three fictional heroes in the film set out to kill the renegade shark that has devoured swimmers in the town of Amity. Ian and Nixon delved into researching the production troubles encountered in the making of the film, which went far over schedule and over budget, stranding the cast and crew on the tony island. As the play unfolds, we see Shaw, Scheider and Dreyfuss expressing frustration at their plight. They are angry and bored and the shoot has no end in sight as director Spielberg (not seen in the play, but occasionally heard) grapples with the unforgiving weather and endless mechanical problems that prohibit the giant mechanical shark from operating properly, hence the title of the play. The three men drink, smoke and engage in mutual ball-busting insults, as men will inevitably do when a bottle is passed around. At times they are genuinely friendly but Shaw's alcoholism leads to a tension between him and Dreyfuss, who bears the brunt of his wrath. In this war between co-stars, the cool and calm Scheider tries to play the role of Switzerland and maintain a truce between the combatants. All of them fear that they are starring in a stinker that will damage their careers. The play is primarily a comedy but don't expect pratfalls and one-liners. The laughs evolve believably through the excellent script,which also provides some dramatic and emotional moments concerning Shaw's inability to deliver the most important dialogue because he is drunk.The scene concerns Quint's dramatic soliloquy about the horrors that befell the crew of the sunken U.S.S. Indianapolis, which was sunk in the Pacific during the final days of the WWII. The survivors languished in the water for days with many dying from predatory sharks. As in real life, the play depicts Shaw's self-recognition that he had compromised the emotional heart of the film and we watch him prepare to atone for his sin by doing the scene right on the second take. (Shaw's delivery of this speech in the film should have seen him nominated for an Oscar.)
Director Guy Masterson has a genuine feel for the characters. There are no over-the-top moments and Masterson handles both the humor and the considerable pathos with equal skill. I especially enjoyed the chuckles derived from Shaw reading about the on-going Watergate scandal that was unfolding in 1974 when "Jaws" was being filmed. Duncan Henderson's set design is a model of efficiency. The men may be confined to the Orca but the production never looks chintzy. Credit Nina Dunn's masterful rear screen ocean scenes, which add immeasurably in "opening up" the play. In an age of over-produced, over-priced and over-blown Broadway shows, "The Shark is Broken" is like a revelation. It boils theater down to the basics- and thankfully no one decided to ruin this film-to-stage adaptation by inserting some dreadful musical numbers, as has been the norm on Broadway. The historic Golden Theatre is the perfect venue for this production, as it's not-to-large and not-too-small. It allows the audience to experience the intimacy of the dialogue and the dilemma of the three characters.
The performances are nothing less than superb. Ian Shaw is the spitting image of his father and delivers his mannerisms with precision. It can't be easy playin an iconic actor in an iconic role, especially when he's your father. Alex Brightman is extremely funny as the much-put-upon Dreyfuss, channeling all of the nervous energy and insecurities one might expect of a Jewish guy from New York who finds himself stranded in Martha's Vineyard with an occasionally psychotic and drunken co-star determined to humiliate him. Colin Donnell has the least-flashy role as Roy Scheider, and he brings off perhaps the most challenging performance impeccably. Why the most challenging? Because not even a drunk at a cocktail party attempts to perform a Roy Scheider imitation. The actor never possessed the signature characteristics of his co-stars, yet Donnell is so good at recalling Scheider's understated mannerisms that we feel we're watching the late actor himself.
(Photo: Matthew Murphy)
"The Shark is Broken" arrives on Broadway following a sensational, acclaimed run on the West End. Now that the great white shark is on the Great White Way for limited 16-week run, it would seem that a similar reception is in store, if the thunderous ovation given by the audience at a sold-out preview performance this critic was invited to see on August 5th is any indication. I hope that the play's populist appeal doesn't result in it being denied much-deserved Tony nominations because it is worthy of official recognition. We've all been through a lot of grief lately: the pandemic, international tensions, inflation and the ugliest political environment the U.S. has seen in the last century. "The Shark is Broken" won't cure any of these problems, but I guarantee it will provide some temporary relief. Don't let it be the one that got away. It's the most enjoyable theatrical experience I've seen in quite some time.
(The play runs 95 minutes without an intermission.)
Friedkin with Gene Hackman on location in New York City for "The French Connection", 1971.
(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive.)
By Lee Pfeiffer
William Friedkin, who reinvented the crime and horror film genres with "The French Connection" and "The Exorcist", has died in Los Angeles at age 87. Friedkin's first film was based on a personal obsession- to get a man incarcerated on Death Row exonerated. The 1962 documentary "The People vs. Paul Crump" was deemed a deciding factor in getting the innocent man released. The Chicago native first worked in the television industry before landing his first Hollywood feature film, directing the comedy "Good Times" starring Sonny and Cher in 1967. The film wasn't a hit but Friedkin was learning his craft. His diverse output included a screen adaptation of Harold Pinter's acclaimed, offbeat play "The Birthday Party" starring Robert Shaw and Donald Pleasence, the exuberant Prohibition era comedy "The Night They Raided Minsky's" and "The Boys in the Band", a daring screen version of the controversial play about the lives and relationships of gay men.
Friedkin's biggest break came when he was hired to direct "The French Connection" in 1971, an adaptation of the bestselling book that documented the biggest drug bust in U.S. history. Friedkin's passion for eschewing the trappings of conventional crime films paid off when he won the Oscar for directing. The film also won Best Picture and Best Actor for Gene Hackman in a star-making role. Friedkin's next film was also an adaptation of a bestseller- in this case William Peter Blatty's horror novel "The Exorcist". Friedkin resisted hiring popular leading actors of the day in place of casting reliable character actors and leads with little name recognition. His transformation of 12 year-old Linda Blair into a terrifying demon immediately became the stuff of horror film legend. However, the film won over critics and was nominated for numerous Oscars because Friedkin made the production a thinking person's horror film with interesting characters and believable reactions to the surrealistic events. Following the worldwide success of this second Friedkin blockbuster, Friedkin did not bring another film to the screen for four years. When he did, it was "Sorcerer", a lavish and grueling reinterpretation of French director Henri-Georges Clouzot's acclaimed 1953 adventure film "The Wages of Fear". The film seemed to be cursed. On location in the Dominican Republic, Friedkin had to face soaring budget costs due to natural disasters and other seemingly insurmountable problems. When the film opened, it flopped. Friedkin, in an interview about the film with this writer in Cinema Retro issue #29, said that studio executives threw him under the bus by implying the film had gone over-budget because Friedkin lacked self-control in terms of spending. Friedkin tried to set the record straight but the damage was done. His reputation had taken a hit and his next film, the comedy "The Brink's Job" was also a critical and financial disappointment. his 1980 crime thriller "Cruising" cast Al Pacino as a New York detective who goes under cover in Gotham's gay leather bar scene to find a serial killer. The film caused great controversy, with gay activists denouncing it even before filming had been completed. Critics assailed the film as vulgar and unsatisfying, but like "Sorcerer" it has been favorably re-evaluated in the ensuing years. Friedkin continued to work steadily but only the 1985 crime thriller "To Live and Die in L.A." gained any kind of attention and that was largely due to an extravagant car chase.
Over the following years, Friedkin would divide his time directing films and TV productions as well as live operas. He would never score another boxoffice hit but he appreciated the attention and accolades he received later in life that commemorated his body of work. He took satisfaction from the fact that his 2011 film "Killer Joe" starring Matthew McConaughey became a cult favorite for younger audiences. Friedkin is survived by his wife, producer and former studio head Sherry Lansing. His final film, a remake of "The Caine Mutiny", will premiere at this year's Venice Film Festival.
Friedkin with Cinema Retro's Todd Garbarini.
(Photo: Todd Garbarini)
Cinema Retro mourns the passing of this great filmmaker and we appreciate his contributions to our magazine. His last interview (with Todd Garbarini) appeared in issue #50 in which he discussed the 50th anniversary of "The French Connection".