Wende Wagner was 23 years old when she got the role of an Indian maiden in the 1964 western Rio Conchos. Wagner dabbled in acting for several years, married and divorced Robert Mitchum's son James and made her last big screen appearance in Guns of the Magnificent Seven in 1969. Oh, her measurements came in at 36-22-35 - not that we took any notice.
Football superstar Jim Brown made his screen debut co-starring with Wende Wagner, Stuart Whitman, Richard Boone and Tony Franciosa in Rio Conchos. Did you know the film was a semi-remake of the 1961 John Wayne western The Comancheros, which also starred Whitman? For our tribute to Jim Brown ("The First Black Action Hero") see Cinema Retro issue #4. For full coverage of Rio Conchos, see Nicholas Anez' extensive article in Cinema Retro issue #20.
Looking for a chill during the dog days of summer? Check out
the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s delicious quartet of Roman Polanski
thrillers: Summer Chills: Four by Roman Polanski. Screening Monday, July
30, and Wednesday, Aug. 1, at the Walter Reade Theater at LincolnCenter in New York. The series features the acclaimed
director’s cult favorite The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967) and all
three classics in what some commentators have labeled the Apartment Trilogy:
Repulsion (1965), Rosemary’s Baby (1968), and The Tenant (1976).
Given the horrors contained in the Apartment Trilogy, what
would our favorite Polish director have made of today’s rental market? A
first-time viewer of Rosemary’s Baby might take away this central
message: You’ll need no less a connection than SATAN to land a three-bedroom
apartment in the Dakota when you’re a newly married, out-of-work actor and have
no visible means of income.
Roman Polanski stars in and directs "The Tenant"
The Tenant, a harrowing tale of urban
isolation and paranoia, is instead a single renter’s nightmare: Not only have
you (Roman Polanski) just moved into the apartment of a suicide victim, your
landlord (Melvyn Douglas) hates you. The more you attempt to keep out of
everyone’s way, the more things keep going terribly wrong. Like finding the
former tenant’s tooth in the wall. Or the nightmarish visions none of your
fellow tenants believe—even the one of the mummy-woman in the bathroom window
across the courtyard who stares at you as you attempt to pee. The message:
Living alone, while initially liberating and bohemian, usually ends in your
becoming That Weird Guy Down the Hall Who Does Creepy Drag. The only solution
is to throw yourself out the window.
If you fail the first time, repeat.
If you can buy the premise of Catherine Deneuve as a repressed, sexually frustrated virgin, you'll love Polanski's classic chiller "Repulsion".
Repulsion, conversely, is more of a
cautionary tale about what your anti-social roommate does when you go on
vacation. So desperate is she for company, hands will reach out of the walls.
Figures will appear in mirrors. She will pull your food out of the fridge, then
not eat it. Psycho-sexual frustration will lead to her crawling around on all
fours and delusions of rape. The message: Roommates, like pets, are high
maintenance, especially when left alone. Either take them with you on vacation,
or while you’re away, call your answering machine and make soothing sounds into
the phone.
Mia Farrow isn't reacting to another rent increase at the Dakota, she's defending her unborn child from Satanic influences in Rosemary's Baby
Back to Rosemary’s Baby, I can’t resist. Oft-cited as
one of the “scariest films of all time,†I think of itas more of a
touchstone of inspired casting – maybe the most inspired works of casting ever.
Stuffed to the rafters with everyone from 1930’s contract players (Patsy Kelly,
Ralph Bellamy); robust, British thespians (Maurice Evans, in a role that fits
him like an old houseshoe); vaudevillians (Phil Leeds, Elisha Cook), Broadway
actors (Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer) and a winking cameo by William Castle,
the film’s co-producer (Robert Evans would not let him direct as part of the
deal at Paramount) – it’s hard to imagine a better ensemble. But according to
IMDB.COM and other sources, the leads and supporting roles were the result of
weeks of negotiations, turn-downs and second choices. Polanski wanted Tuesday Weld for the
lead, and Castle wanted Mia Farrow. Jane Fonda was made an offer for the lead,
but turned it down so she could make Barbarella (1968). Both director
and producer wanted Robert Redford for the role of Guy Woodhouse, Rosemary's
husband, but negotiations broke down when Paramount's lawyers served the actor
a subpoena over a contractual dispute involving Silvio Narizzano’s film Blue
(1968). Other actors considered for the role of Guy were contemporary leading
men: Richard Chamberlain, Robert Wagner and James Fox. Legend has it that even
Laurence Harvey campaigned for it, and Polanski tried to convince Warren Beatty
to do it before offering it to John Cassavetes, who in 1968 was more known as a
TV actor. Perhaps most intriguing to imagine, for the roles of witch coven
leaders Minnie and Roman Castevet, Polanski suggested Alfred Lunt and Lynn
Fontanne (!) the renowned husband and wife Broadway acting duo. Might they have
given their roles more of a Noel Coward drawing room feel, consistent with
their theatrical careers? I guess we’ll never know. Hard to imagine Minnie
Castevet as anyone other than Ruth Gordon, in her Oscar-winning performance.
Two other
well-cast bit parts are by Emmaline Henry, who played Dr. Bellow’s wife on I
Dream of Jeannie (Rosemary and Guy’s party scene) and Victoria Vetri,
1968’s Playmate of the Year, who plays the ill-fated, adopted runaway Terry
Gionoffrio. When Rosemary meets her in the laundry room and asks “Aren’t you
Victoria Vetri?†she replies no, “but everyone says I look like her.†It is,of course,
Victoria Vetri, all 36-21-35†of her! – David Savage
READER COMMENT:
Wende Wagner also appeared in "Rosemary's Baby," a film that used the Dakota
but wasn't supposed to be set there...Robert Redford in "Blue"? It's bad enough with Terence Stamp, but Redford?
The mind boggles!- Rory Monteith
By the year 1972, the esteemed Billy Wilder was licking his wounds
over the boxoffice debacle that was "The Private Life of Sherlock
Holmes". Wilder's revisionist depiction of the legendary sleuth is
precisely what Holmes fan clamor for today, but to a generation that
defined the depiction of Holmes and Watson by the low-budget film series
starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, there was little enthusiasm to
see an all-too human Holmes with all-too-human failings. Wilder blamed
the poor reception for the film on the fact that the studio had
overridden his objections and made major cuts to the movie. Years ago,
some of the missing footage was discovered and the altered film was
accepted favorably by reviewers and retro movie lovers. Still, at the
time, Wilder was not used to suffering the humiliation of public
rejection of one of his movies. After all, he had given us classics such
as "Some Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Sabrina", "Double Indemnity"
and "Stalag 17". Wilder was eager to return to his comedic roots and for
his next film, "Avanti!" and he enlisted long-time collaborator Jack
Lemmon to star and his esteemed writing partner I.A.L. Diamond to
co-author the script with him. The stars seemed be aligned for another
Wilder comedy hit, but it didn't work out that way, to put it mildly.
"Avanti!" was another critical and commercial failure and this time it really hurt.
Henceforth, the few films Wilder would direct would all be bombs,
marking an inglorious end to an otherwise glorious career. Yet,
"Avanti!" deserved a better fate. It's certainly Wilder in an inspired
mode even if the inspiration came from a flop Broadway comedy production
that he and Diamond kept the basic plot premise of but otherwise
rewrote.
Wilder and Lemmon had enjoyed such audience-pleasing hits as "Some
Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Irma La Douce" and "The Fortune Cookie".
Lemmon is well-cast as Wendell Armbruster, Jr., the son of a titan of
American industry who has just died in an automobile accident in Italy
where he went every year for a month-long personal sabbatical to cleanse
his body and soul. Wendell is already in a state of nervous panic when
we first see him on board the flight to Italy. He has just a few days to
arrange to bring his father's body back to Washington, D.C. where a
high profile televised funeral will take place with the President and
other world dignitaries in attendance. (It's never explained why the
Armbruster family self-imposed such a tight deadline for retrieving the
body and staging the funeral.) Wendell idolized his father as the symbol
of American family values and conservative political doctrine; a robust
Republican who socialized with Henry Kissinger and who was devoted to
Wendell's mother. Upon arrival in the quaint coastal town where his
father died at his favorite small hotel, Wendell is greeted by the
manager, Carlo Carlucci (Clive Revill), an unflappable local "Mr.
Fix-It" with a penchant for reassuring words and an ability to move
mountains to carry out impossible tasks. However, Wendell is in for a
shock when he meets Pamela Piggott (Juliet Mills), a working class girl
from East London whose mother also died in the same car crash as Wendell Sr.
Turns out the two were lovers who met for the past ten years at the
hotel, where they were adored local legends. Thus begins a madcap farce
in which Wendell has to deal with the emotional revelation that his
father was an adulterer while at the same time keeping family members
and the public in the dark about the scandal. Pamela has a different
attitude. Unlike Wendell, she knew of the affair long ago and assures
Wendell that the two were madly in love and could fulfill their
fantasies through their annual reunion. Wendell also learns that his
ultra conservative father would join his lover for daily nude swim.
If the conventional wisdom in Hollywood is that comedies must run
under two hours, Wilder was happy to ignore it. "Avanti!" clocks in at
144 minutes. It's as though he was celebrating the leisurely Italian
lifestyle depicted in the film, a lifestyle that can be both
simultaneously maddening and idyllic. Do we have to tell you that
Wendell and Pamela lock horns only to become lovers themselves, even
going so far as to replicate the dear departed's daily nude swim in the
best-remembered scene from the movie? Despite the lengthy running time,
the film is never boring and the performances are all top-notch with
both Lemmon and Mills in fine form. However, the scene-stealer is Clive
Revill in a remarkably funny performance. You'll swear you're watching
an Italian actor instead of a native New Zealander who made his mark in
British film and stage productions. The movie is peppered with some
genuine Italian character actors, as Wendell becomes embroiled with a
local group of poverty-row mobsters. Wilder and Diamond also mix in an
amusing murder and blackmail plot. There is a late appearance by the
marvelous Edward Andrews as a U.S. State Department official who arrives
to resolve Wendell's problem of getting his father's body back home in
time for the funeral. For all the laughs, however, there is a poignancy
to the story, as Wendell learns to love and admire Pamela, who has
initially disparages because of her "weight problem." This is an
uncomfortable aspect of the movie not only because Juliet Mills most
decidedly did not have a "weight problem", but she endures (as women did
during this era) constant barbs and insults and even makes
self-deprecating jokes about her non-existent girth.
"Avanti!"
may not be classic Wilder, but it's very good Wilder and that's enough
to merit a "highly recommended" designation.The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional fee of $2.99 a month.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER KINO LORBER BLU-RAY FROM AMAZON
This
compelling 1949 melodrama—it can’t quite be called film noir due to a
lack of many of the traits associated with that cinematic movement—would have a
field day in the era of #MeToo. It was made during 1948 (released in January
’49) while the Production Code was still in effect. While it was taboo to say
that the protagonist, Dr. Wilma Tuttle (Loretta Young), is “sexually assaultedâ€
by one of her students at the college where she teaches psychology (it’s
obvious that this is what occurs in front of our eyes on the screen), it’s
perfectly fine for the investigating homicide detective, Lt. Dorgan (Wendell
Corey), to make harassing sexual innuendos and sexist remarks about the woman
he suspects of murder, not only to her face but to all the other men in the
room while she’s present. But it was 1948, not that this is an excuse.
That
said, The Accused, directed by William Dietele and produced by the
inimitable Hal B. Wallis for Paramount Pictures, is fairly riveting,
well-acted, and superbly written (by Ketti Frings, based on the novel Be
Still, My Love by June Truesdell). Note that both the novel and the
screenplay are written by women, making The Accused somewhat a rare
feminist statement for the time.
Wilma
(Young) is harassed by student Bill Perry (Douglas Dick), a handsome but
arrogant womanizer who has perhaps already gotten a fellow student (Suzanne
Dalbert) “in trouble.†In the interest of counseling Perry, Wilma agrees to be
given a ride home. Instead, Perry takes her to a secluded cliff in Malibu
overlooking the ocean, where he proceeds to enact an attempted rape. Wilma
clobbers him on the head, killing the young man. Obviously, she was defending
herself. She panics, though, and decides to stage the death by making it appear
that Perry jumped and committed suicide. Later, Perry’s “guardian†and
attorney, Warren Ford (Robert Cummings), appears to settle Perry’s affairs and
becomes embroiled in the police investigation. Ford meets Wilma and falls in
love—and she with him, too. However, Wilma is besieged by guilt and flashbacks
of the “crime,†sometimes inexplicably speaking hints of what she’d done as if
she were talking in her sleep. Lt. Dorgan (Corey) suspects her, but he also
wants to date her, and there is a bit of rivalry with Ford for her hand. As the
story progresses, evidence is uncovered that points to Wilma as Perry’s killer…
will she be arrested? And if so, can she convince a jury that she had acted in
self-defense?
Loretta
Young had just enjoyed great success as the lead in The Farmer’s Daughter (1947).
She was cast in The Accused, replacing Hal Wallis’ intended casting
choice, Barbara Stanwyck (she refused the part). Then, Young won the
Oscar for The Farmer’s Daughter, elevating her stock even higher. Would
she have taken such a potboiler role in The Accused had she known she
would soon be an Oscar-winning actress? Who knows… That said, Young is quite
good in The Accused, although her character seems to wilt in fear and
uncertainty way too often.
Robert
Cummings is fine, but Wendell Corey is a bit too slimy and predatory for
believability. Maybe in 1949 it was realistic for a cop to come on to his
suspect, but now it just feels creepy. Douglas Dick is frightening as the
sociopathic student, and Sam Jaffe is always fun to watch (here he is the
police forensics guy).
The
ending is surprisingly ambiguous as to whether Wilma walks away free from her
trial. No spoilers here, but Lt. Dorgan has a final line that points to how
this is going to go. A message to women everywhere regarding assault and
self-defense? Perhaps. Very bold for 1949.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray looks satisfactory in its restoration. It comes with an
audio commentary by film historian Eddy Von Mueller. The only supplement is the
theatrical trailer, along with other Kino trailers.
The
Accused is
for fans of Loretta Young, melodramatic crime pictures, and Hollywood in the
late 1940s.
Vinegar
Syndrome is the name of a phenomenon that occurs in motion picture film when
reels of film are poorly stored in hot and humid conditions. The hallmarks of
this unfortunate and inevitable fate to motion picture film consist of physical
degradation of celluloid precipitated by the film development process and
indifferent/poor film storage – such as film stored on rusted metal reels – all
resulting in film bearing the faint or strong smell of vinegar. The film can
become very brittle, suffer from shrinkage and/or take on a contorted shape
making it nearly impossible to run through a projector. In short, the only way
to arrest the process is to make pristine duplicates of the film’s original
camera negative following the developing stage and store them in
climate-controlled conditions. As one can well imagine, however, this type of
care was rarely if ever instituted by low budget movie studios who saw their
assets (i.e. a finished motion picture feature film) as having a limited shelf
life apart from ancillary markets that rarely included life beyond cable and television
broadcasts and foreign cinema exhibition Alternately, they simply didn’t have
the money or space to store the negatives.
Vinegar
Syndrome is also the name of one of the best film preservation companies
working today, located in Connecticut. Their enormous efforts have rescued many
foreign films and drive-in fan favorites from certain death, offering up a
smorgasbord of primarily obscure titles long forgotten from the age of home
video when feature films were released as-is on videocassette (VHS/Beta) and
videodisc (RCA Capacitance Electronic Disc and Pioneer LaserDisc). With
advances made in digital video restoration, films that have never even seen the
light of day outside of a grindhouse theater on 42nd Street in New
York City or a drive-in theater are now available on DVD/Blu-ray/4K Ultra High
Definition Blu-ray thanks to this amazing company.
Zombie
5: Killing Birds,
originally given the equally strange title of Killing Birds: Raptors, begins
promisingly enough before it slows to a craw (sorry, crawl) and interminably
meanders to a sudden and abrupt ending. Filmed in Thibodaux, LA in August 1987,
the plot is schematic and uninspired, light years from the best examples offered
from other Italian thrillers, most notably the giallo genre which the
film seems to be influenced by: Dario Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal
Plumage (1970), Profondo Rosso (1975) and Tenebre (1982) are
among the finest examples to date. However, Killing Birds is by no means
a giallo thriller, and its lack of an interesting cinematic visual style
makes it suffer in the end. Birds concerns a cuckolded Vietnam veteran (Robert
Vaughn, if you can believe it) who murders his wife and her lover upon
returning from the war in 1967, and spares his infant son only to be blinded by
one of the property’s birds. Twenty years later, a group of college students
who study rare birds aim to put another feather in their cap so-to-speak by studying
the rare birds on display in the vast home. It’s the perfect set up for some
crazy though uninspired mayhem. The best thing about Birds is Lara
Wendel, an actress genre fans will recall as the ill-fated Maria who
unwittingly roams into the killer’s house following an attack by a Doberman
pinscher in Tenebre, among many other Italian thrillers. In actuality,
the film is directed by longtime genre favorite Aristide Massaccesi, known
alternately by the much easier-to-pronounce pseudonym of Joe D’Amato (I love
that name), who had his name removed as he had made multiple films in a short
period of time, a maneuver instituted by industry rules. The new Blu-ray from
Vinegar Syndrome includes the following extras:
The
transfer is done in 2K from the film’s original 35mm negative and looks
beautiful.
The
audio includes both the English language track and the Italian dubbed track.
Talons is the name of the video interview with
director Claudio Lattanzi. In December 1985 he began working with Michele Soavi
on the documentary Dario Argento’s World of Horror which is still, as of
this writing, the best documentary on him yet made. In 1986 he also worked with
director Soavi on StageFright and was introduced to Aristide Massaccesi,
aka Joe D’Amato, and the company of Filmirage. He then discusses the writing
process of the film. This is an unusually in-depth interview which runs nearly
50 minutes.
There is a video interview with sound man
Larry Revene who also has worked as a director of photography that runs about
15 minutes and he provides some interesting tidbits on the making of the film
and how the Italian crew was very particular and had their own food catered.
The
real reason to buy this disc is for the package’s standout audio commentary
with film historian and author Samm Deighan who provides a wealth of knowledge and
information on not just the film but the genre and the people involved in the
making of the film. She knows what she’s talking about and she speaks slowly,
authoritatively and is fascinating to listen to. I have heard some other
commentaries with lots of information that the speakers blow through very
quickly, so it was a pleasure to listen to this commentary which is done at a
much slower pace. Ms. Deighan also provides the commentary to the upcoming
Vinegar Syndrome title I Start Counting – I would recommend buying that
Blu-ray sight-unseen just for her commentary alone. I cannot wait to listen to
that one and I haven’t even seen the movie yet!
There
is also reversible cover artwork and newly translated English subtitles.
There
are also the English and Italian trailers included.
If
you’re a fan of Zombie 5: Killing Birds, this is the edition to own. If
you haven’t seen it and are a fan of the horror genre, pick up this disc for
Samm Deighan’s commentary alone. It’s chock full of great info.
By the year 1972, the esteemed Billy Wilder was licking his wounds over the boxoffice debacle that was "The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes". Wilder's revisionist depiction of the legendary sleuth is precisely what Holmes fan clamor for today, but to a generation that defined the depiction of Holmes and Watson by the low-budget film series starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, there was little enthusiasm to see an all-too human Holmes with all-too-human failings. Wilder blamed the poor reception for the film on the fact that the studio had overridden his objections and made major cuts to the movie. Years ago, some of the missing footage was discovered and the altered film was accepted favorably by reviewers and retro movie lovers. Still, at the time, Wilder was not used to suffering the humiliation of public rejection of one of his movies. After all, he had given us classics such as "Some Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Sabrina", "Double Indemnity" and "Stalag 17". Wilder was eager to return to his comedic roots and for his next film, "Avanti!" and he enlisted long-time collaborator Jack Lemmon to star and his esteemed writing partner I.A.L. Diamond to co-author the script with him. The stars seemed be aligned for another Wilder comedy hit, but it didn't work out that way, to put it mildly. "Avanti!" was another critical and commercial failure and this time it really hurt. Henceforth, the few films Wilder would direct would all be bombs, marking an inglorious end to an otherwise glorious career. Yet, "Avanti!" deserved a better fate. It's certainly Wilder in an inspired mode even if the inspiration came from a flop Broadway comedy production that he and Diamond kept the basic plot premise of but otherwise rewrote.
Wilder and Lemmon had enjoyed such audience-pleasing hits as "Some Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Irma La Douce" and "The Fortune Cookie". Lemmon is well-cast as Wendell Armbruster, Jr., the son of a titan of American industry who has just died in an automobile accident in Italy where he went every year for a month-long personal sabbatical to cleanse his body and soul. Wendell is already in a state of nervous panic when we first see him on board the flight to Italy. He has just a few days to arrange to bring his father's body back to Washington, D.C. where a high profile televised funeral will take place with the President and other world dignitaries in attendance. (It's never explained why the Armbruster family self-imposed such a tight deadline for retrieving the body and staging the funeral.) Wendell idolized his father as the symbol of American family values and conservative political doctrine; a robust Republican who socialized with Henry Kissinger and who was devoted to Wendell's mother. Upon arrival in the quaint coastal town where his father died at his favorite small hotel, Wendell is greeted by the manager, Carlo Carlucci (Clive Revill), an unflappable local "Mr. Fix-It" with a penchant for reassuring words and an ability to move mountains to carry out impossible tasks. However, Wendell is in for a shock when he meets Pamela Piggott (Juliet Mills), a working class girl from London whose mother also died in the same car crash as Wendell Sr. Turns out the two were lovers who met for the past ten years at the hotel, where they were adored local legends. Thus begins a madcap farce in which Wendell has to deal with the emotional revelation that his father was an adulterer while at the same time keeping family members and the public in the dark about the scandal. Pamela has a different attitude. Unlike Wendell, she knew of the affair long ago and assures Wendell that the two were madly in love and could fulfill their fantasies through their annual reunion. Wendell also learns that his ultra conservative father would join his lover for daily nude swim.
One
of the more fascinating aspects of the Spanish horror film is that the
country’s most famous exports were produced during the near forty year
dictatorial regime of Falangist leader Generalissimo
Francisco Franco. In interviews
conducted following the passing of the repressive dictator in 1975, actor Paul Naschy
(the so-called “Lon Chaney of Spanish horrorâ€) often expressed bemusement regarding
the restrictions imposed by Spanish censors on his films. Naschy’s horror films were (arguably, I
suppose) of either very modest or completely non-political in their design - if
not their subtext.
Paul
Naschy (aka Jacinto Molina Alvarez) was greatly influenced by the celebrated
cycle of gothic horror and mystery films produced by Universal Studios in the
1930s and 1940s. The primary difference
between these monochrome films and those Naschy would lens beginning 1968 is
unmistakable: most of his films,
including the colorful Count Dracula’s
Great Love (1971), owed more to the more contemporary themes and style of
Britain’s Hammer Studios. Spanish
implementation of less discreet on-screen sexuality and a seemingly limitless
supply of blood plasma packets pushed even Hammer’s edgiest offerings to the tame,
more modest borders of exploitation cinema.
Nevertheless,
the horror films released in this otherwise repressive environment were neither
produced under the tightest of restriction nor designed in an effort to avoid
offending the sensibilities of right-wing prudes. As anyone who has ever enjoyed a Paul Naschy
or Jess Franco film can attest, Spanish horror offerings of the 1960s and 1970s
are suffused with gory imagery, eroticism, savagery, envelope-pushing scenarios…
and generous dollops of female nudity.
Unlike
most censorship boards, the Spaniards didn’t seem terribly concerned with flashpoints
involving on-screen immoralities or scenes of sickening violence. Their primary concern was simply that film characters
demonstrating unwholesome peccadilloes or otherwise satanic non-Christian traits
not be identified as being of wholesome Spanish heritage. So a werewolf bearing the Eastern-European the
Slavic surname of Daninsky was permitted, as were godless Hungarian vampires
and Prussian hunchbacks. Those in the Spanish
film industry were more than happy to ring international box-office cash
registers with their appropriations; the atheistic commies of Eastern Europe were
welcome to the authorship of the malevolent creatures spawned from their
decadent folklore.
Javier
Aguirre’s Count Dracula’s Great Love
(original title El Gran Amor Del Conde
Dracula) was Paul Naschy’s only on screen appearance as Brom Stoker’s
legendary vampire Count Dracula. The
actor would in his long career assume the roles of practically every vanguard monster
of the “classic horror†pantheon. In a
lengthy series of Spanish-European co-productions, Naschy would don the makeup
and costumes of vampires, mummies, hunchbacks, werewolves… he even tackled the dual
role of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Well
regarded by filmmakers and contemporaries as a hard-working, earnest
actor-writer-director, he was also remembered as a humble, modest man. His greatest pride was when horror fans
whispered his name with the same reverence reserved for the greatest icons of
the genre: Karloff, Lugosi, Chaney, and
Price.
Count Dracula’s
Great Love
opens, more or less, as nearly every other Dracula film. Following a violent breakdown of the
horse-carriage somewhere near Hungary’s mountainous Borgo Pass, a group of five
travelers - one gentleman and four buxom beauties - seek temporary help at the
supposedly derelict sanitarium of Dr. Kargos. The good doctor is nowhere to be found – at least, not yet – but the
castle’s new tenant, the soft-spoken, candelabra carrying Dr. Wendell Marlow
(Paul Naschy) soon answers the door of what’s rumored to be the ancestral home
of the Vlad (“The Impalerâ€) Tepes, the bloody historical Prince of Wallachia.
At
first sight Marlowe is no cruel Vlad Tepes. Naschy’s Marlowe is a supposed Austrian
aristocrat and an apparent softie: he’s a thoughtful and gracious sort,
self-effacing, and unrelentingly polite. In fact, when the stranded travelers are brought into the anteroom,
they’re not only immediately welcomed with courtesy but offered accommodation and
meals for the week. This is necessary,
he explains, as there are no hotels in the area; he owns no transportation modes
and his forthcoming order of supplies are seven days away.
The
four blond girls at first don’t seem terribly grateful for the Dr.’s generous
hospitality. One whispers a complaint almost
immediately, moaning her displeasure that the castle is a dreary, gloomy sort
of a place. If director Aguirre wanted
to convey a palatial sense of doom and menace to match that description, he was
clearly let down by his art department. The castle interiors are generally bright and immaculately clean save
for the odd cobweb or two drooping forlornly from lighting fixtures. The castle’s cellar, where the delivery of a
wooden crate of human-length proportion arrives at the film’s beginning, is a
bit more atmospheric: here we find the
stony labyrinth passageways, the moss covered walls, the rat-infested rooms we
might expect.
One
of the stranded travelers finds the genial Dr. Marlowe a physically attractive
specimen. That said, she’s reminded by a
friend that her tastes in men are her own. The friend prefers a man “slimmer and taller.†(Naschy was hardly a cadaverous Count, a muscular
man of stocky build and approximately only 5’ 8†in height). With little alternative the girls choose to
make themselves at home, now resigned to their unplanned stay at the castle. By day two they’re making the most of it and immodestly
sunning their naked bodies in the estate’s opaque pool. Though the castle grounds are in disrepair
and in serious need of some landscaping, they discover the wooded acreage is nonetheless
conducive to long negligee-garbed walks in the moonlight.
Two men drive across the blazing Nevada desert and stop
at the bridge leading to the town of Chuckawalla. Eddie Bendix (John Hodiak)
remarks to his companion Johnny Ryan (Wendell Corey) that the bridge hasn’t
been repaired since they were last here. We learn that there was some kind of accident
that took place a while ago and Eddie was involved. Driving up behind them,
honking the horn on her Chrysler wood-trimmed Town and Country convertible,
comes 19-year-old Paula Haller (24-year-old Lizabeth Scott), freshly kicked out
of yet another school, on her way to stay with her mother, Fritzi (Mary Astor).
The chance meeting sets off sparks between the two, much to the dismay of
Eddie’s friend Johnny. Uh-oh, what’s up
with that?
Paula drives into town and stops at the Purple Sage
Saloon, which her mother owns, along with the police chief, the mayor, and most
of the town. On the way Paula runs into Deputy Sheriff Tom Hanson (Burt
Lancaster), who has been carrying a torch for her since she left for school.
While they’re talking out in the street in front of the saloon, Eddie and Johnny
roll into town, and we see the start of a romantic triangle between Paula, Tom,
and Eddie, or is it a rectangle, since Johnny seems pretty angry with Eddie
over the attention he’s paying Paula.
Turns out Fritzi is not in the Purple Sage, so Paula
drives out to her rather large home out on the desert, where we discover her
relationship with mom is a bit strange as well. At first Fritzi seems like a
1940s version of a helicopter mom, but as the story goes on there’s something
obsessive about the way she wants to run Paula’s life. In one scene a
thunderstorm awakens Paula, and Fritzi pops in and offers to sleep with her
like she did when she was little. Paula says thanks but no thanks. Uh-oh, what’s up with that?
As the story progresses, we learn that Eddie is a gambler
and has come to stay at a ranch near town before setting up a gambling
operation in Las Vegas. We learn his wife was killed in the accident at the
bridge when her car plunged into the river. Johnny takes care of Eddie but is a
little over-protective, which is starting to get on Eddie’s nerves, especially
since Paula’s arrival on the scene. At one point Johnny threatens to kill Paula
if she doesn’t leave Eddie alone. So we have two characters, Eddie, and Paula,
both in the clutches of people who want to control them. Even Tom, the deputy,
is guilty of wanting to control Paula, when he warns her to stay away from
Eddie. He knows he’s no good. He tells Paula that she’d better be careful, because
she looks a lot like Eddie’s late
wife. Paula runs from both her mother and Tom and just naturally has to fall in
love with the bad guy.
“Desert Fury†is based on a novel by Ramona Stewart, and
was adapted for the screen by Robert Rossen and an uncredited A.I. Bezzerides.
The screenplay shows a lot of Bezzerides touches. The screenwriter of “They
Drive by Nightâ€, “Thieves Highway,†and “Kiss Me Deadly†specialized in stories
about flawed characters who cannot overcome their defects and are driven to
their fate by them. In this case both Paula and Eddie seem to be weak
characters who both need and, at the same time, are repelled by those who want
to dominate them. When they try to escape this web of entanglement it merely
sets off a disaster.
This is the kind of movie that should be listed in the
dictionary as the definition of “potboiler.†It’s got more pots boiling than a kitchen
in a Chinese restaurant. There are even more sordid twists, as we learn more
about Fritzi’s background, and her relationship years ago with Eddie, as well
as the truth about what happened to Eddie’s wife.
“Desert Fury†has been called the “gayest film noir ever
made.†Stewart’s source novel reportedly is much more open about Johnny and
Eddie’s relationship, which is strongly implied in the movie, but never
explicitly stated. Audiences were not ready to see gay relationships on the
screen in 1947.
In the
summer of 1992 I visited a neighborhood thrift store that rented obscure videos
of movies made all over the world. Foreign films on laserdisc imported from
Japan were transferred to VHS and rented long before “online downloading†became
a household term. One of the films was relatively new yet unfamiliar to me
although the cover art featured actress Jennifer Connelly on it. I already knew
of her from her roles in Dario Argento’s Phenomena
(1985), Seven Minutes in Heaven
(1985), Labyrinth (1986), Some Girls (1988), and The Hot (yowzah) Spot (1990), but this title looked quite different. Etoile, the French word for “starâ€, is
the title of director Peter Del Monte’s relatively unknown and overlong 1989
dramatic thriller that easily calls to mind Darren Aronofsky’s superior Black Swan (2010) due to its theme of a
troubled ballerina. I would almost consider Etoile
to be a “lost†Jennifer Connelly film in that most people are unaware of it. Even
this video tribute to her
on Youtube skips it completely. Although Italian and filmed in spoken
English, the film was not released in either Italy or the United States. Ms. Connelly, who premiered at the age of twelve in Sergio
Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America
(1984) as a dancer, plays Claire, a New York-based ballerina visiting Budapest
to audition for Swan Lake. Like in
the opening of Phenomena, her
character is arriving in a foreign land by way of aviation and finally by taxi.
She bumps into a fellow New Yorker named Jason (Gary McCleery) after dropping
her slipper in the hotel she is staying at. He’s instantly smitten with her,
and who wouldn’t be? At just seventeen, Ms. Connelly is utterly breathtaking. The
ballet school is run by Marius Balakin (Laurent Terzieff, who bears a striking
resemblance to Pierre Clementi for those Bertolucci fans of you out there). Claire
ventures out into an old, decrepit theater and dances alone until she locks
eyes with Balakin who is sitting in a seat, looking around at the theater. She
bolts. In the meantime, Jason is learning the antiques business from his Uncle
Joshua (an unlikely Charles Durning), but cannot stop thinking about Claire and
sneaks off, accompanying her on a sojourn to an abandoned old house that used
to belong to a ballerina who danced in Swan
Lake. Compelled to succeed, Claire decides to audition.
At
this point the film takes a turn into seemingly supernatural territory when
Claire finds flowers delivered to her room and addressed to “Natalieâ€. Despite
her best efforts, she cannot locate anyone else in the hotel with that name. In
the middle of the night, she receives a visit from her teacher’s choreographer
and another dancer; understandably freaked out, she then decides to return to
New York. While at the airport, a P.A. page for a one “Natalie Horvath†sends
her into a trance and she almost willingly assumes the “role†of this person
and transforms into a ballerina, with no memory of Claire, her former self. Jason
locates her sitting by a lake and is hurt and bewildered by her demeanor and
failure to recognize him. Determined to get to the bottom of this, he goes to
great lengths to uncover this very obvious transformation that he is powerless
to explain let alone comprehend.
Director
Peter Del Monte’s best-known film to Americans is indubitably Julia and Julia, the 1987 Sting-Kathleen
Turner outing that was touted as the first film to be shot in high definition
(it was later transferred to 35mm for theatrical exhibition). The premise of
that film also called into mind the sanity of the protagonist, however here
Claire merely appears to be a confused and unwilling participant in a world
that simply pulls her into it. Although Claire and Jason’s love story isn’t
very compelling, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him and ended up rooting
for him. The ending is trite, even by the director’s own admission, which he
found unsatisfying. Jurgen Knieper, the film’s composer who has done some
wonderful work for Wim Wenders, provides a very effective and haunting score
that remained with me days after seeing the film, in particular the main theme.
The cinematography is also quite stellar as Acácio de Almeida’s camera reveals much
more than the laserdisc ever showed, mostly because this new transfer to DVD is
made from a new 2K scan of the original film elements with extensive color
correction performed. The image is framed at 1.85:1.
The
DVD from Scorpion has several extras. First up is an eighteen-minute interview with the
film’s director who discusses the challenges that he was forced to deal with
while making the film. He took the job as the producer gave him an advance,
which is something that he never had before. However, there were many
disagreements regarding the film’s tone, etc.
The
second extra is an on-screen interview with the film’s executive producer, Claudio
Mancini, who has far less positive things to say about the cast and the whole
experience. This runs just shy of ten minutes.
The
final section contains trailers for the following films: Etoile (1989), Barbarosa
(1981), City on Fire (1979), Steaming (1985), and Ten Little Indians (1974).
I
would recommend Etoile wholeheartedly
to Jennifer Connelly completists.
In 1988 Oscar-winning screenwriter Stirling Silliphant ("In
the Heat of the Night", "The Poseidon Adventure") got fed up with what he
called "the eel pit of Hollywood" and moved to Thailand to start a new life. According
to the LA Times, he'd grown tired of
the power plays, the egos, the hypocrisy and the dictum that homage must be
paid to the box office. He left and never came back.
Hollywood has always had its dark side-- just read "Hollywood
Babylon". Silliphant's "eel pit" was never a more apt description than when, a
few years later in 2015, the film industry was rocked by the unauthorized release of
some really nasty Sony emails that gave a glimpse into what powerful producers and
studio execs really thought of some of their stars. Scott Rudin called Angelina
Jolie a "minimally talented spoiled brat". Clint Culpepper called Kevin Hart "a
whore" and Amy Pascal said Leonardo DiCaprio was "despicable" And the news
coming out of Hollywood these days is even worse. Allegations of sexual
harassment up to and including rape by powerful studio heads and A-list stars are
being revealed on an almost daily basis. Careers are ending faster than they
can yank the latest multi-million dollar "blockbuste" flop out of theaters.
And somebody or somebodies may go to jail.
Over the years there have been several attempts
to document Tinseltown's seamy underbelly on film. Movies like "The Bad and the
Beautiful", "Sunset Boulevard" and "The Last Tycoo" gave it a try with
varying degrees of success. But without doubt the most scathing portrait of La
La Land ever put on film has to be Robert Aldrich's "The Big Knife" (1955).
This stark film, shot in black and white and 1.85:1 widescreen, is a searing depiction
of an idealistic actor caught in the clutches of a powerful, merciless
studio boss who will stop at nothing, including blackmail and murder, to get
his way. Based on a stage play by Clifford Odets, the poet laureate of the
working man, and adapted for the screen by James Poe, "The Big Knife" tells the
story of screen star Charlie Castle (Jack Palance), who is described in voice-over narration at the beginning of the film as a man who sold his dreams but
can't forget them. He once had artistic aspirations as an actor, but through
his own weakness he succumbed to the lure of big money and became instead a
drunk, a womanizer, and the property of studio head Stanley Shriner Hoff (Rod
Steiger).
Forced to make some lousy pictures for Hoff, who
is content with making money and couldn't care less about things like redeeming
social value or artistic integrity, Charlie sees a way out. His contract is
about to expire. Hoff wants him to sign up for seven more years, but Charlie's
wife, Marion (Ida Lupino), insists he refuse to sign. She sees it as a matter
of survival. She has seen the steady corrosion of Charlie's soul over the years
working for Hoff Pictures. She and Charlie have been temporarily separated on
and off for the last couple of years, but she tells him if he signs the new
contract she'll leave for good.
Based on Odets' stage play, most of the film
is confined to one set, the spacious play room of Charlie's Bel Air mansion.
Aldrich and Cinematographer Ernest Laszlo, using deep focus lenses, create a
claustrophobic atmosphere, shooting from low and high angles, with lamps and
chandeliers in the foreground, conveying the terrifying sensation of the walls
closing in on Charlie, as one character after another shows up to take away
another piece of his soul.
First is columnist Patty Benedict (Ilka
Chase), a barracuda who questions why Charlie has kept Buddy, his publicity man
on the payroll after he had served several months in prison for a drunk driving
hit and run that killed a child. Charlie tells her he's been a friend for
years, and why dig that old news up? She also noses into the state of Charlie's
marriage. When Marion appears (Charlie unaware she had entered the house), she
tells Benedict it;s none of her business. The columnist leaves in a huff and
warns Charlie she better not read about their break up in anybody else's
column. Charlie scolds Marion for talking to Benedict that way, and when she
rebukes his obsequious, hypocritical act with her, he replies, in typical
Odets fashion: "Im in the movie business. I can't afford your acute attacks
of integrity"
“The Big Knife†is loaded with hard-hitting dialogue
that probably sounds over the top today, but in the context of the film, and in
the period in which it was made—a time when filmmakers and writers like Chayefsky,
Serling, and Inge were more concerned with moral value than writers are
today—it all works. When Charlie discusses his future with his agent Nat
Danziger (Everett Sloan), he considers the meager possibilities and concludes:
“Every way is a way to die.†Later in the story, when the walls get even closer,
he picks up a bottle and tells him “I’m getting sloshed in my own mud and
neon.†In a confrontation with Hoff and his hatchet man Smiley Coy (Wendell
Corey), who try to force him to sign the new contract, he tells them: “This is
all a bleak, bitter dream, a dish of doves. You throw this mess of naked
pigeons in my face. What am I to do?â€
Further pressure comes from Buddy’s wife, a
tramp who throws herself at Charlie, cold and callous, heedless of the way it
will destroy their friendship. This betrayal becomes even more brutal when the
truth that he and Buddy share regarding the hit and run accident is revealed.
Finally, there is Shelly Winters as Dixie Evans, a starlet who knows too much
about the hit and run and is seen as a threat not only by Charlie, but more
importantly by Hoff and Smiley Coy. She’s the final straw that eventually
breaks Charlie’s back. As Dixie says: “First they louse you up and then they
call you a louse.â€
Wesley Addey is on hand as (Horatio “Hankâ€
Teagle) a writer friend of Marion and Charlie’s, who calls Charlie a
half-idealist. “Half-idealism is the peritonitis of the soul,†he tells him.
But even that friendship is tainted by the fact that Hank has asked Marion to
leave Charlie and marry him. Every straw that Charlie gasps for only pulls him
down deeper. Wendell Corey perhaps best sums up Charlie’s character when he
calls him: “The warrior minstrel with the forlorn hope.â€
Kino Lorber continues to produce special edition Blu-rays of obscure titles that are under most movie fans' radar screens. Case in point: "Nightkill", a little-remembered thriller made in 1980 for theatrical release but which ultimately "premiered" on television, much to the consternation of all involved. Ironically, the movie has the look and feel of a TV production with the notable difference of some disturbing images that were probably edited down for broadcast standards. Thus, the Kino Lorber edition is probably the first opportunity to see the original cut of the film, as it apparently was not released to theaters. The plot is "Diabolique" by way of Alfred Hitchcock. Jaclyn Smith, then riding high from her long-running role as one of Charlie's Angels, is cast as Katherine Atwell, a socialite living in Phoenix and living what appears to be a charmed life. She resides in a hilltop mansion and is the toast of the town because of a charitable foundation she has founded. There is one major caveat: her husband Wendell (Mike Connors) is a boorish rich snob with a violent temper who enjoys demeaning everyone in his circle of influence. He is particularly tough on his long-suffering corporate major domo Steve Fulton (James Franciscus), who must endure Wendell's cynical comments and outbursts. Katherine has come to hate her husband. Their marriage is a loveless one based on mutual convenience: he gets a trophy wife he can parade around as arm candy and she gets a lavish lifestyle and funding for her charity. However, she is frustrated by her loveless, sexless marriage and has taken up a secret torrid affair with Steve Fulton. One sunny afternoon, Katherine, Steve and Wendell are gathered in the Atwell's living room. Steve makes a drink for his boss, who promptly keels over and dies a painful death. Without having given Katherine any advance warning, Steve had poisoned Wendell. He tells the understandably panicky Katherine of his game plan: they will secrete Wendell's body in a large freezer inside the house, then collect a briefcase containing a million dollars that is being stored at an airport locker and fly off to another country so they can live the high life together. Katherine is tempted to alert the authorities, but ultimately decides to go along with Steve's plan. She soon regrets it. When Steve doesn't show up for their planned getaway, Katherine begins to worry. She goes through the arduous task of disposing of her husband's body in an abandoned mine shaft but later believes she sees him alive in various places. In the film's only absurd scene, a car that appears to be driven by her dead husband pursues her in a dangerous chase that she narrowly escapes from. It gets worse. When she opens the freezer that once held her husband's body, she gets another shocking surprise that I won't reveal here. Adding to the pressure is a bothersome detective (Robert Mitchum) who shows up at awkward times and asks increasingly awkward questions about her husband's whereabouts.
"Nightkill" was directed by Ted Post, a seasoned pro when it came to helming undistinguished-but-entertaining fare both on television and in feature films. (His best theatrical films were "Hang 'Em High", "Beneath the Planet of the Apes" and "Magnum Force".) Post was primarily at home in the television medium and perhaps that's why the movie has the look and feel of a TV production. Post didn't believe in artsy camera shots or other gimmicks. He shot in a basic style that didn't allow for distractions from the action on screen. He milks some suspense out of a sometimes cliched script that borrows too much from other sources. "Nightkill" may be middling in some aspects but it does take some unexpected turns concerning the motivations of the main characters. Jaclyn Smith gives an outstanding performance as the harried and distressed protagonist. The film is sprinkled with other interesting actors and performances. Mike Connors excels at playing against his good guy image as a rotten lout, Fritz Weaver has an unusually flamboyant character to play as a snobby lawyer who has the hots for Katherine, even though he is married to her best friend (Sybil Danning in a role that refreshingly doesn't require her to doff her clothes). Mitchum is his usual cool-as-a-cucumber self as the detective who may or may not be who he claims to be. The Arizona locations are a refreshing change of pace and the film keeps a zesty pace under Post's direction, right up until the rather surprising ending which some viewers may find unsatisfying. The most memorable scene involves yet another "woman in the shower in jeopardy" scene but with a disturbing twist that doesn't involve anyone attacking her.
There
was a time when movies about the Vietnam War were sparse if non existent,
especially during the years when the war was raging (one of the rare exceptions
being John Wayne’s “The Green Berets†in 1968). Once popular movie genres like the
war movie and western were prolific on television and in cinemas, but were beginning
to fall out of favor in the 1970s. They were being reinvented and metamorphosed
into post modern psychological examinations of the nature of violence and war. Hollywood
commonly referenced the Vietnam War by creating characters in movies depicted
as dysfunctional or they commented on the war by setting the movie during a
different war “The Sand Pebbles†and “M*A*S*H†are outstanding examples of
Vietnam War movies in disguise).
“Go
Tell the Spartans†was part of the small tide of movies about that war released
in the late seventies and eighties. The 1978 release features a terrific
performance by Burt Lancaster as well as an interesting supporting cast of up and
coming actors. The film's opening prologue states: "In 1954, the French
lost their war to keep their Indo-China colonies and those colonies became
North and South Vietnam. Then the North aided a rebellion in the South and the
United States sent in 'Military Advisors' to help South Vietnam fight the
Communists. In 1964, the war in Vietnam was still a little one -- confused and
far away."
Lancaster
is war weary Army Major Asa Barker, commander of a South Vietnam outpost in
1964. A veteran of WWII and Korea, Barker commands a small group of American
advisors at the outpost on the eve of the American build-up in Vietnam. His
command also includes a few South Vietnamese soldiers and villagers as he
negotiates with the corrupt regional governor to ensure his troops receive
proper artillery cover as they engage North Vietnamese forces.
Barker’s
second in command is Captain Alfred Olivetti (Marc Singer), a capable junior
officer almost as jaded as Barker. They are assisted by the capable Signalman
Toffee (Hilly Hicks) who is always ready with communications to headquarters
before being asked. Replacements arrive at the outpost and they include the
usual assortment of misfits, fence sitters, thoughtful soldiers and a gung-ho
newly commissioned lieutenant. Corporal Stephen Courcey (Craig Wasson) is the college
drop-out eager to serve his country by helping the South Vietnamese. Sergeant
Oleonowski (Jonathan Goldsmith) is an experienced veteran near to reaching his
breaking point. Lieutenant Raymond Hamilton (Joe Unger) is the recently
commissioned officer a little too eager to engage the enemy and Corporal
Abraham Lincoln (Dennis Howard) is the opium addicted stoner. Cowboy (Evan Kim)
is Barker’s Vietnamese scout who is a bit zealous in his methods of enemy
interrogation. Character actor James Hong is also present as one of the
villagers assisting the Americans.
Barker
and his men are ordered on an expedition to an abandoned French military
outpost to report on enemy activity. They encounter the fort cemetery with 300
French graves from the First Indochina War where a sign written in French quotes
the Greek historian Herodotus referencing the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C.
Greece; "Stranger, go tell the Spartans that here we are buried, obedient
to their orders." The men soon find themselves engaging an overwhelming
force of Viet Cong. The soldiers realize the similarities between their
expedition and the doomed French soldiers who died there 10 years earlier as
they make a stand against the Viet Cong. Several of the characters succumb to
their fate as happens in all war movies, but the film does this in a sincere
depiction of the futility of war in a way that honors those who serve and
sacrifice.
Based
on Daniel Ford’s 1967 novel, “Incident at Muc Wa,†the title was changed to “Go
Tell the Spartans†by screenwriter Wendell Mayes. Ford based the novel on his
experiences covering the war for “The Nation.†The novel covers what is historically
known as “Operation Blaze.†Mayes beefed up the character of Barker in the
hopes a major Hollywood actor could be coaxed into taking the part. After
several years in development Hell, Lancaster accepted the part under the
direction of Ted Post for Avco Embassy. The movie literally had a spartan
budget and was shot on location in California which doubled for the jungles of
Southeast Asia. “The Green Berets†suffered from a similar lack of location
filming and it’s a glaring liability in both films. If the viewer can overlook
this and accept pine trees for jungle palms, the movie works quite well as a compelling
war drama with expertly staged battle scenes.
The
Scorpion Blu-ray release looks and sounds terrific with a running time of 115
minutes. The new high definition transfer in widescreen is a vast improvement over
the previous 2006 DVD release. Extras on the disc include interviews with cast
members Marc Singer, Joe Unger, David Clennon, Jonathan Goldsmith and director
Ted Post. The interviews include interesting anecdotes on working with Burt
Lancaster and the process of bringing the movie to the big screen. If you own
the 2006 DVD, this Blu-ray is a worthy upgrade and recommended for fans of the
genre.
A wonderfully understated comedy-drama, The
Electric Horseman follows the story of Sonny Steele (Robert Redford), a five-time
champion rodeo cowboy now turned brand spokesman for AMPco, a giant corporate
firm selling 'Ranch' breakfast cereal. Steele's
life has become essentially a series of advertising appearances, at which he is
required to brandish a box of cereal with his face adorning it whilst wearing a
garish cowboy outfit festooned with electric fairy lights. The forced smiles, autographs and constant
touring are starting to crack Steele; when we meet him, he is a disillusioned,
unreliable drunk, stumbling from one engagement to the next.
The film centres around a big Las Vegas
convention where Steele is booked for a ride-on appearance with AMPco's prize mascot,
a 12-million-dollar racehorse. Horse and
rider are strapped up in purple paisley silk and electric lights, the
ridiculous spectacle of which, in the capital of sensational fakery and
money-worship, proves to be the final straw for Steele. Appalled that the horse (a past champion like
himself) has been drugged in order to fulfil the appearance, Steele decides
then and there to ride him off into the desert and away from the bright lights
of Vegas and the public eye. It is here
the film really begins, as investigative journalist Hallie Martin (Jane Fonda)
picks up Sonny Steele's story and pursues his mission to restore the horse to
freedom.
In tracking down and following Sonny, Hallie
becomes impressed with his knowledge of animals, nature and the land; he is indeed
no fake but a 'real' cowboy in the most nostalgic sense; looking back to an
innocent, forgotten America. As Sonny
and Hallie drop their guards, against astounding mountainous scenery they sing 'American the Beautiful', unashamed and
without irony: "O beautiful for spacious skies/For amber waves of grain/For
purple mountain majesties...". Nonetheless,
there is little schmaltz to be found here; no overbearing passionate Hollywood
drama; Fonda's character is reminded by Sonny that there is no need for
pretension with him, "It's not gonna be on television".
Sonny's attempts to liberate the horse is
also a way of trying to free himself; from the world of fame and commerce, from
which he shuns further attention. The
kinship Sonny feels for the horse spreads beyond the screen; his nursing of the
animal in the film is detailed and attentive and in real life, Redford not only
did all his own riding stunts but, apparently, loved the horse so much he
brought it home and kept it for the rest of its life.
At its core, the story is really one of
authenticity; the world of money and business, bright lights and fakery versus
nature, friendship and the great outdoors. Sonny's faithful friend and manager Wendell is played by Willie Nelson
(in his feature debut, reputedly ad-libbing most of his dialogue), bringing
further authenticity to the cowboys; Wendell and Sonny, after yet another
dispiriting tour date, drunkenly sing a song Nelson himself had a recent chart
hit with: "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys/'Cause They'll
Never Stay Home and They're Always Alone".
There are no shootouts, saloons or spurs in
the language here, but aspiration to a gentle caring spirit and understanding
of nature and the outdoors. The only
'bad guys' are the heads of corporations who care only for profit, represented in
the film by an unusually cold, steely faced John Saxon. For its grand themes, director Pollack delivers
them in an oblique and unassuming way; the sound design during scenes in Las
Vegas has slot machines and tannoy announcements, disconcertingly, almost as
loud as the dialogue itself, which only emphasises the clarity, stillness and
simplicity of scenes in the great outdoors.
There are lots of great comic moments and
funny, sharply delivered lines; no less than you might expect from repartee
between Redford and Fonda, who had previously co-starred in The Chase and Barefoot
in the Park. Valerie Perrine (memorable
as Ms. Teschemacher in 1978's Superman) also plays a notable supporting role as
Sonny's soon-to-be ex-wife and Wilfrid Brimley (Cocoon) plays a marvellously
modest but key supporting role. For fans
of 1970s kitsch, there is a bit of everything here that you might expect from
the era; from cowboy rodeos and disco dancing Vegas showgirls to a full on horse-race
multi-car chase à la The Dukes of Hazzard (with one especially impressive
stunt, culminating in one police car tearing along whilst carrying another,
upside down, on top of it!).
The screener copy available for review of
this re-release had no menu or extras, but the picture quality is excellent and
does justice to the stunning cinematography of both the Vegas spectacle and its
vast surrounding desert scenery.
In light of his artsy, unaffected, at times entirely
improvised trilogy of “road moviesâ€â€”Alice
in the Cities (1974), Wrong Move
(1975), and Kings of the Road
(1976)—Wim Wenders considered The
American Friend (1977) to be his riskiest film to date. Fortunately, the
gamble paid off and this picture, more than any of his prior efforts, placed
him prominently on the world stage, garnering him international attention and critical
acclaim. While Patricia Highsmith’s source novel, Ripley’s Game, was not his first choice of her work to bring to the
big screen (it was, in fact, not yet published), the end result is a satisfying
thriller enveloped in a morally ambiguous milieu of existential drama.
The initial catalyst of the forged painting, as well as the
ensuing personal deceitfulness, are indicative of the film’s primary theme, that
of the complex nature of mistaken and/or assumed identity. Early in The American Friend, when Ripley
ruminates, “I know less and less about who I am or who anybody else is,†it is
an explicit expression of this thematic thread. As the film plays out, he and
Zimmermann both embark on a profound journey building upon fluctuating ideals
and actions, sometime out of necessity—to adapt and stay alive—and sometimes just
for the pretense.
In any case, having done the deed, the oblivious yet
earnestly considerate Zimmermann (considerate for his family, that is, if not
the man he murders) evolves from an innocent amateur to an ethically problematic
criminal in his own right. The full weight of the abrupt shift to unscrupulous
behavior is made all the more disconcerting after he realizes no immediate consequences
for the assassination. First he is surprised and obviously pleased by the lack
of judicial punishment, then his joy borders on disturbing exultation. The man
who is at one point described as “quiet and peaceful†has now become a cold
blooded killer for hire. Just as with Highsmith’s most famous Ripley novel, The Talented Mr. Ripley, appearances here
can be deceiving and easily deceived. As the proliferation of illicit activity
runs far and wide in The American Friend,
the film frequently questions character authenticity and the uncertain true
intentions of those involved. To therefore say the ensuing bond between
Zimmermann and Ripley is an unlikely and unsteady one would be quite the
understatement, and however much the two grow comfortable with one another,
even trusting of each other, nothing about the collaboration ever settles
enough to be solidified as a mutual partnership. Even if the characters let
their guard down momentarily, the viewer is continually primed to expect a
deadly turnabout.
Zimmermann’s potentially fatal flaw, then, is that he
fails to realize that in this world of treachery and viciousness, where others
are playing the same ruthless game he is, one has to assume they too are
capable of violence. In a 2002 commentary track with Hopper, as well as in a
more recent interview, both of which are included on the new Criterion
Collection release of The American Friend,
Wenders states his reluctance toward taking on an amoral character like Ripley.
But what becomes clear is that Zimmermann is the one with whom the audience is
more disappointed. Ripley and his cohorts are what they are and we expect
nothing less; Zimmermann, on the other hand, should have been above such
misdeeds. His desire to provide for his family is laudable enough, and the
prospect of quick cash would be tantalizing, but his decision to ultimately go
through with the murder makes him a most problematic protagonist.
(The following review pertains to the UK release of the film on Region B format)
Simple
Acts of Annihilation
Dario Argento is the most famous Italian horror
director to be associated with the ‘giallo’ style murder mystery films that
emerged from Italy during the 1970s and early 1980s. The films were notable for
their point-of-view camerawork, their unsettling atmospherics and
nerve-jangling, claustrophobic scenes of terror. Argento is one of those
directors you either love or hate, and his work has often been accused of being
a case of style over content. His detractors cite his implausible plots, illogical
loopholes, deafening soundtracks, overacting casts and over reliance on
stylistic flourishes that float his slim narratives. His films are just too
contrived and stylised, too gimmicky, to succeed. By contrast, Argento’s fans
love his implausible plots, illogical loopholes, deafening soundtracks,
overacting casts and an over reliance on stylistic flourishes. Argento’s colour
cinematography is exquisite, with visual effects achieved via ingenious angles,
complicated set-ups, wire-guided cameras, vivid lighting, garish colour schemes
and seemingly impossible cinematic arabesques, to present moments of extreme
shock and overtly choreographed violence, often unflinchingly in close-up.
Argento virtually invented ‘gialli’ with his impressive
directorial debut. The murder mystery ‘The Bird With the Crystal Plumage’
(1970) benefited from Vittorio Storaro’s widescreen images in Cromoscope, Ennio
Morricone’s spine-tingling score and a collection of good performances – Tony
Musante and Suzy Kendall as the amateur sleuths, Eva Renzi as the gallery
murder victim, Mario Adorf as a anchorite painter and Enrico Maria Salerno as
the police investigator. Argento continued in a similar vein with ‘The Cat ‘o
Nine Tails’ (1971) and ‘Four Flies on Grey Velvet’ (1971) – the three films
became known as his ‘Animal Trilogy’ and all were scored by Morricone.
Argento’s 1970s psychological thrillers reached their zenith with ‘Deep Red’
(1975), which had David Hemmings’ jazz pianist puzzling his way through a twisted
whodunit. Argento then explored the supernatural with the first of his ‘Three
Mothers’ trilogy, ‘Suspiria’, released in 1977. This gory cataclysm of witchery
and murder remains his biggest success and finest achievement, a tour de gore.
Argento has only grasped at this magnificent malfeasance occasionally since,
which has left his fans expectant and frustrated in equal measure.
‘Tenebrae’ (1982) is one of Argento’s better post-‘Suspiria’
films and certainly holds its own within the ‘giallo’ canon. Written and
directed by Argento, it begins with New York horror fiction writer Peter Neal
(Anthony Franciosa) arriving in Rome on a promotional tour for his new
bestseller, a novel called ‘Tenebrae’ (which is Latin for ‘shadows’ or ‘darkness’).
Pretty soon Neal finds himself embroiled in a murder investigation. Captain
Germani (Giuliano Gemma) is seeking the killer of serial shoplifter Elsa Manni
(Ania Pieroni), who was murdered with a cutthroat razor and is found with pages
from Neal’s novel stuffed in her mouth – a modus operandi deployed in the novel
itself. Asks bemused Neal of the inspector: ‘If someone is killed with a Smith
& Wesson revolver, do you go and interview the president of Smith &
Wesson?’ The killings continue. Tilde (Mirella D’Angelo), a journalist who is critical
of Neal’s ‘sexist bullshit’ horror stories, and her on-off lover Marion
(Mirella Banti) are slain in their apartment block with a razor, again in
imitation of Neal’s horror fiction. Tilde’s criticism of Neal’s books parallels
the charges occasionally levelled at Argento himself, as beautiful victims die
beautiful deaths in the name of Argento’s artful darkness. The prime suspect in
the ‘Tenebrae’ case is Cristiano Berti (John Steiner) a daytime TV book
reviewer for Channel One, who is also Neal’s superfan. When an axe is planted firmly
in Cristiano’s skull, he drops off the ‘wanted’ list. John Saxon played Neal’s
literary agent Bulmer, Daria Nicolodi (from ‘Deep Red’) was Neal’s PA Anne,
film director Enzo G. Castellari’s brother Enio Girolami appeared briefly as a
store detective and Veronica Lario was Neal’s estranged, slightly unbalanced wife
Jane McKarrow. Captain Germani tells Neal that he guessed the killer’s identity
in the novel by page 30, but he’s not so quick on the real case. In the end,
with the police stumped, Neal himself turns detective – as did Musante and
Hemmings – to track down the ‘Peter Neal Tribute Act’ who is leaving a trail of
corpses littering Rome.
Neal’s book is modestly described by an advert in a
Rome bookstore as ‘Il giallo dell’anno, forse del deccennio’ – ‘The giallo of
the year, perhaps the decade’ – and the film isn’t bad either. ‘Tenebrae’ gives
Argento’s fans exactly what they want. With its gratuitous bloodletting and
stylised choreography of murder, this is over-the-top, comic-book Argento, a
partial return to ‘realism’ after the phantasms of ‘Suspiria’ and ‘Inferno’. The production’s backroom staff was of an
excellent calibre. Horror directors Lamberto Bava and Mario Soavi were the
film’s assistant directors, and the murders, involving razor, knife and axe,
were staged imaginatively by Giovanni Corridor. ‘Tenebrae’ was photographed by
Luciano Tovoli in Technicolor and 1.85:1 screen ratio (rather than Argento’s
earlier preferred format of 2.25:1 widescreen). Some of the cinematography –
pills resting on a glass tabletop, or water rinsing blood from an open razor
blade – is starling in its clarity. In a terrifying sequence, a woman Maria
(Lara Wendel) is chased through a park by a guard dog and inadvertently bumbles
into the killer’s basement lair. Before Tilde and Marion are murdered,
Argento’s camera glides up the outside of their apartment building, peeping
through windows, then sweeps up over the slate roof and swoops down to the
block’s stair landing, in an intricate camera take that seems inspired by
Sergio Leone’s gliding Chapman crane shot at Flagstone City railway station in
‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ (1968), a film Argento worked on with Leone
during the treatment stage. Another victim is stabbed in broad daylight in a
busy municipal square and ultra-weird flashbacks from the killer’s traumatic past
depict the murder of a woman (played by transsexual ‘Eva Robins’/Roberto
Coatti) who is wearing a white dress and bright red high heels. The film’s pulsating
synthesizer fugues – the pumping adrenalin of the killer or the fearful,
fleeing victims – were provided by Claudio Simonetti, Massimo Morante and Fabio
Pignatelli, who as members of the band Goblin had such success with the
soundtracks for ‘Deep Red’ and ‘Suspiria’. The film’s murders are graphically
staged with zeal – the movie ran into trouble on its first release, being
prosecuted as a ‘Video Nasty’ in the UK and appearing in the US in truncated
form as ‘Unsane’, shorn of 10 minutes. The killings are very gory – seemingly
even more so in this pristine blu-ray edition – and the house of horrors
bloodbath that climaxes the film offers plenty of the red stuff and some good
shocks.
Arrow Film’s new steelbook edition of ‘Tenebrae’ is
the most comprehensive and impressive edition yet released. There are various
prints of the film out there on DVD. One has the onscreen title as TENEBRAE and
the credits and the ‘Tenebrae’ page extracts in English. Arrow’s print (running
time: 1:40:53) has the onscreen title TENEBRE and the credits and pages in
Italian text. I’ve never been mad about ‘Tenebrae’, but this Blu-ray release
has made me re-evaluate the film as one of Argento’s superior gialli –
certainly in visual terms. The colours are bold and tremendous, the cinematography
in moments as delicious as anything in ‘Suspiria’ or ‘Inferno’. Those red heels
have never looked so, erm, red. The feature itself is blu-ray Region B and DVD
Region 2, and as well as the English language dub it is available to play with Italian
audio and English subtitles. It was shot in English and Franciosa, Saxon,
Steiner and Gemma voiced themselves in the English version. A wealth of extras
include a collectors’ booklet with writing from Alan Jones and Peter
Strickland, and an interview with cinematographer Luciano Tovoli. Copious disk
extras include two audio commentaries (one by Alan Jones and Kim Newman,
another by Thomas Rostock), interviews with co-star Daria Nicolodi, composer
Claudio Simonetti, and author Maitland McDonagh (‘Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds:
The Dark Dreams of Dario Argento’). There’s also 16 minutes of Simonetti’s band
Goblin performing tracks from ‘Tenebrae’ and ‘Phenomena’ in person at a gig at
Glasgow Arches. All in, this is a definitive release of what is a strong contender
for Argento’s finest 1980s movie.
The steelbook edition of ‘Tenebrae’ is available
now from Arrow Films.
I had long wanted to see director Samuel Fuller's 1961 low-budget film noir Underground U.S.A. ever since its star, Cliff Robertson, extolled its virtues to me. Now the movie has finally come to DVD as part of an outstanding new boxed set dedicated to the maverick filmmaker, the seven disc Samuel Fuller Collection. Underground U.S.A. represents the style that has defined Fuller's work: no nonsense, fast-moving and featuring believable characters and dialogue. There isn't a wasted frame of film. Robertson stars as a small time crook from the inner city who witnessed the beating death of his father at the hands of locals thugs when he was a teenager. Years later, after doing a stint in jail for safe-cracking, Robertson makes it his life's mission to track down his father's murderers and extract his revenge. He learns that these goons are now prominent figures in a national crime syndicate. He concocts a scheme to infiltrate the syndicate and gain their trust before dishing out his violent vision of justice.The film largely consists of studio interiors, which gives the story a claustrophobic feel that was probably exactly what Fuller had hoped to achieve. Robertson is particularly good, playing against type in the kind of role Robert De Niro would play in Martin Scorsese's films years later. He's given able support by ultra sexy Dolores Dorn (who should have been a much bigger star) as a streetwalker marked for death by the mob; Beatrice Kay as a lovable old maid/saloon keeper and noted character actors Robert Emhardt and Larry Gates - neither of whom ever received enough recognition for their consistently fine work in the cinema.An excellent and thoroughly engrossing film on every level.
Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer reports on the Otto Preminger being held at the Film Forum in New York City.
Carroll O'Connor and John Wayne are among the cast of superstars in Otto Preminger's great WWII epic.
On Tuesday night, I attended a rare big screen showing of Otto Preminger's underrated 1965 WWII film In Harm's Way. The screening was part of a Preminger film festival hosted by movie scholar Foster Hirsch, author of the acclaimed new biography of the mercurial director, Otto Preminger: The Man Who Would Be King. In planning the screening, it appeared that the invited guests were the ones who have gone in harm's way: Patricia Neal had to back out due to illness and earlier in the day, I spoke with her co-star in the film, Jill Haworth, who informed me that she was battling pneumonia and would also have to cancel her appearance. Nevertheless, your intrepid editor soldiered on in the company of Cinema Retro contributors David Savage and Tom Lisanti. For us, the film itself was enough of an attraction to merit attending. Not surprisingly, Foster Hirsch's introductory remarks were informative and entertaining, helping to deflect from the abscence of Ms. Neal and Ms. Haworth. New York City has never been John Wayne Country and trying to induce residents of Manhattan to attend a Wayne war movie would seem to be as practical as trying to sell ice cubes to an eskimo. However, the screening was well attended and Hirsch assured the audience that although he is no fan of Wayne's work in general, he believes In Harm's Way represents the actor's finest screen performance. That may seem to be an overstatement, but in watching the film again, there is no question it ranks among the top of Duke's career achievements. Refreshingly, he willingly plays a role amidst an ensemble cast in which every actor gets several big, memorable moments. Thus, this is not a typical "John Wayne movie". He plays a flawed character who makes mistakes in judgment and pays the price both mentally and physically.
May 1965: Preminger attends the 18th annual Cannes Film Festival with In Harm's Way cast members Barbara Bouchet and Hugh O'Brian, who play illicit lovers in the film.
Preminger does an amazing job of showing off the talents of an incredibly talented cast that includes top names such as Kirk Douglas, Patricia Neal, Henry Fonda, Tom Tryon (who was under contract to Preminger) and Dana Andrews with an excellent and eclectic cast of character actors such as Burgess Meredith, Brandon de Wilde, Sterling Holloway, Carroll O'Connor, Franchot Tone, Barbara Bouchet, Slim Pickens, Bruce Cabot, Hugh O'Brian and Patrick O'Neal. The film resembles From Here to Eternity in that it is primarily a sweeping tale that examines how the attack on Pearl Harbor affects the individual love lives of the main characters. Whereas Eternity culminates with the battle, Preminger's film begins with it. The screenplay by Wendell Mayes, based upon James Bassett's novel Harm's Way, captures the essence of navy life. (I know as I was brought up a navy brat.) The technical aspects of the film are superb. Preminger's opening tracking shot is one for the books, a seemingly endless sweep across as U.S. Navy gala on Honolulu with the participants happily ignorant of the devastation that is only hours away. This is one of the most glorious looking black and white films ever produced and earned the Oscar nomination it received for cinematographer Loyal Griggs. Preminger's notorious use of phony looking miniatures during the climactic naval battle does compromise the film somewhat, but never fatally. Jerry Goldsmith's unique and unsettling score is one of his best and Saul Bass' magnificent final credits were justifiably cited by Foster Hirsch as a work of art.
There was a down side to the evening, however. Although Paramount provided The Film Forum with an excellent 35mm print, I realized mid-way through the movie that at least one major scene had been inexplicably deleted: a sequence in which Paula Prentiss becomes distraught that naval officer husband Tom Tryon is being summoned back into the war zone. In a highly provocative scene in terms of its sexual content, she begs her husband to "leave me with a baby." Although the scene does not play a pivotal role in the overall narrative, it does flesh out the relationship of these two important characters. Following the screening, audience members engaged in a Film Forum tradition of lingering to discuss the movie. Foster Hirsch also noted the missing scene and film historian Bruce Eder noted that he discovered two other relatively inconsequential scenes missing. Thus, Paramount gets a mixed report card: they deserve credit for preserving an excellent print of the film, but it's inexcusable that it has been altered from Preminger's original version.
Next week at the Film Forum, Foster Hirsch will host a rare screening of Preminger's The Cardinal. The Film Forum is obtaining what is perhaps the only surviving theatrical print of the movie. For details, click here
CLICK HERE TO ORDER IN HARM'S WAY DVD FROM CINEMA RETRO'S AMAZON MOVIE STORE. tTHE DVD CONTAINS VINTAGE FEATURETTES ABOUT THE MAKING OF THE MOVIE.