MAKSQUIBS CINEMATHEQUE: FOURTEEN HOURS (1951)

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Sunday, April 6, 2014

FOURTEEN HOURS (1951)

Sure, it’s another gimmicky suicide watch drama (will he/won't he), but deftly helmed by Henry Hathaway; well-larded with sharp sidebar vignettes to help ride out the main story tension; and phenomenally well cast, not only in the leading roles but by fistfuls of up-and-comers like Grace Kelly, Debra Paget, Jeffrey Hunter & Ossie Davis. Richard Basehart (37, but looking 27) wisely keeps a rein on the emoting as the sweet-faced would-be jumper on the 15th floor, and he sure catches a break when street cop Paul Douglas is the first guy on the case. You couldn’t find a better ledge companion. The usual gang of upper echelon police, crowd revelers, parents, ex-girl, nosy reporters and even a lunatic preacher soon get in the way. It’s all beautifully organized by Hathaway, and credit to producer Sol C. Siegel on getting such a flavorsome NYC-based cast together for a mid-level pic. But nothing tops the ultra-strict, ultra-succinct Freudian analysis done on the fly by Martin Gabel’s call-a-shrink. (You guessed it . . . it’s all Mom’s fault.)

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A last thought before we go.

Well, enough from me. But before we sign off, here's a great quote from Emile Zola's L'OEUVRE (THE MASTERPIECE), which is about painting rather than the yet to be invented medium of film, but which points a fine critical eye toward the whole idea of art criticism. It's a good, if chilly, thought to keep in mind, especially when you surf the net.

"Has it ever struck you that posterity may not be the fair, impartial judge we like to think it is?

"Suppose the artist's paradise turned out to be as nonexistent as the Catholics, and future generations prove just as misguided as the present one and persisted in liking pretty pretty dabbling better than honest to goodness painting. There are some accepted masterpieces for which I myself wouldn't give a twopenny damn.

"Classical training has given us a wrong view of everything and forces us to acclaim as geniuses a lot of fellows who are no more than well-balanced, facile painters, while what we might really prefer is the work of more emancipated but less even artists known only to an initiated few. Immortality at present depends entirely on the average, middle-class mind and is reserved only for the names that have been most forcibly impressed upon us while we were still unable to defend ourselves...

"Perhaps that's the sort of thing that's best left unsaid. It's certainly the sort of thing that gives me the shudders!"- Emile Zola

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Now Over 5500 Reviews and (near) Daily Updates!

Sunday, April 6, 2014

FOURTEEN HOURS (1951)

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A last thought before we go.

DROP ME A LINE