STAVISKY . . . (1974)

Stylish, but frustratingly opaque telling of 1930s French ‘confidence’ man Serge Alexandre Stavisky, a Lithuanian Jew who launched himself into high society as ladies’ man, casino & theatre owner and political trader via charm & bribery, funded by a sort of self-dealing Ponzi scheme. Eventually running out of fresh sources of income, he took it all down with him. A fascinating if tricky story to convey, not helped by director Alain Resnais’s disconjunctive technique or by Jorge Semprun’s time-splintered script. You follow enough of the action, but the film winds up working against itself. Maybe it needs a mini-series* or at least more info on the political swings of pre-WWII France. Instead, too much attention on how this is all affecting an exiled Leon Trotsky hanging out near Fontainebleau. As Stavisky, Jean-Paul Belmondo no doubt brought box-office clout, but he’s all wrong for the role. Even the lean cut & narrow sleeves of the period fit poorly. Fun to spot supporting actors in youthful trim (Michael Lonsdale, Gerard Depardieu; though none of the women make much impression). And with an unmissable turn from Charles Boyer as a reactionary Baron who may be the nearest thing to a loyal friend Stavisky had. At 75, the one person in here who knows how to wear a tux and look as comfortable as if he were in pajamas.

DOUBLE-BILL: Hollywood gave this scandal the once-over soon after the event in STOLEN HOLIDAY/’37 with Claude Rains & Kay Francis. *Apparently, there was a mini-series in France: STAVISKY, L'ESCROC DU SIÈCLE/’15.

ROBBERY (1967)

Fact-inspired by Britain’s 1963 ‘Great Train Robbery,’ this Peter Yates film is slick & gripping even if halfway in you start to think you’ve seen this one before.* Perhaps the docu-drama style felt fresher at the time. Or could it be that the main event, a ‘Mail Train’ cash robbery of £3 mill, can’t top the prologue, a diamond heist that quickly becomes a wild car chase thru the twisty streets of London. (A sequence that caught Steve McQueen’s eye and led to Yates getting BULLITT next year.) This nifty set piece, immaculately shot by Douglas Slocombe with striking clarity (London and its cars rarely looked so posh), comes on before we’ve even met leading man Stanley Baker. Co-producing his own starring vehicle and not in the best scene! A typical bad move by a good actor doomed to play also-ran to similar looking/infinitely starrier Sean Connery.**

DOUBLE-BILL: *And maybe you have: BUSTER/’88 (not seen here) and a good two part mini-series THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY/’13, both on the same story. OR: **Sean Connery himself in THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY/’78, but a different one, set in the Victorian period.

FLESH (1932)

A success in its day, now largely unsung and unseen, this rare M-G-M gig for John Ford, briefly on the outs at FOX over ‘bad behavior,’ earned a bit of Coen Brothers’ snark & disdain as the troubled film project in BARTON FINK/’91. Otherwise, the film hasn’t so much a bad rep as it has no rep. A pity, since while no great find, this outlier in the Ford canon is consistently interesting in style, acting & story, showing the German Expressionist influence of F.W. Murnau that ran thru the entire FOX lot like a fever after SUNRISE. The story is a lot like a typical Emil Jannings vehicle (think Beauty and the Masochistic Beast), with Wallace Berry’s German Wrestler falling for frail jailbird Karen Morley, picked up off the street. He’s unaware she’s playing him for a chump, carrying her lover’s child and waiting for a chance to raid the cash jar & head off to American to join boyfriend Ricardo Cortez. Abetted by Arthur Edeson’s chiaroscuro lensing, and some surprisingly sophisticated acting (Berry not replaying either his CHAMP lovable mug routine or his Prussian stiffness from GRAND HOTEL; not dumb, but trusting), and a smart amount of untranslated German in the first half of the film, the old story holds up well. (Berry far more believable as a flabby but powerful wrestler than he was as a heavyweight boxer.) Always interesting to watch a Hollywood pro like Ford out of his fach*, here he’s in Joseph von Sternberg territory, of all places. Fascinating, even when it doesn’t work.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Berry’s strong in the ring as long as he sticks to beer (gallons of the stuff!), but switch to the hard stuff and all bets are off. Can’t get much farther from Ford principles than that!

PANIQUE (1946)

A masterpiece from Julien Duvivier, back in France after WWII Hollywood exile. Returning with a new technical panache gleaned from his Stateside studio work, he turned to a dark story from Georges Simenon, freely adapted with co-scripter Charles Spaak, about a barely tolerated outsider in one of those small, insular French towns stuffed to the breaking point with gossip & jealousy. Michel Simon is Monsieur Hire, a man who likes to watch. He’s stumbled over a recent murder in town, and though considered a likely suspect, he’s actually the one guy who knows the identity of the killer, but holds back this knowledge in order to pursue a relationship with the man’s sacrificing girlfriend (Viviane Romance). Just out of prison after taking the fall for ‘her man’ on a robbery, now she’s using her charms to make M. Hire take the rap on murder. The film noir aspects of this guilt roundelay staggeringly enriched by Duvivier’s use of the town as vicious chorus on every plot turn. How eager they are to collaborate!; assuming the worst with no more than circumstantial info and a strong bias against anyone who doesn’t fit in to the town’s set social fabric. With Vichy France and roundups of ‘unwanteds’ barely a year in the past, the film must have made for extremely uncomfortable viewing. It still does.

DOUBLE-BILL: A more faithful adaptation, MONSIEUR HIRE/’89, is a slow-burn creep-out and effective in its very different way. A better match-up in Henri-Georges Clouzot’s LE CORBEAU/’43.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Fascinating Alfred Hitchcock foretastes in here with a VERTIGO anticipating climax and more than nominal presentments of REAR WINDOW and STRANGERS ON A TRAIN.

BUSTING (1974)

In his ‘70s heyday, Elliott Gould, so good in Robert Altman films, so bad in just about everything else, is at least recognizably his better self in this Buddy/Buddy cop pic. Co-starring with a very assured Robert Blake (he might be auditioning for his BARETTA tv series), Gould (looking like a Jewish Lee Marvin) is partnered with Blake as a pair of ‘gonzo’ L.A. Vice Cops stymied by local mob boss Allen Garfield who’s got the political pull to get his associates out of any jam. The boys doggedly pursue/he deftly sidesteps . . . violent reckoning sure to come. It’s a sloppy piece of work in many ways, but scripter Peter Hyams has beginner’s luck on his feature directing debut since his usual coarseness fits the subject matter. Plus, Hal Needham to run the stunts (and action?) for him. In spite of palm trees & La Brea Tar Pits, there’s a distinct NYC vibe here, along with startling ‘pre’ PC attitudes in Gay Bar Raids and some casual racism. (At one point, Gould punches out a Super Fly type for no particular reason after a court appearance goes badly for him. Fine to show his character’s frustration as short term victories on the street go against him in court, but must we be egged on to applaud his behavior?) And what’s up with the powdery, overexposed look of so many interiors? Maybe that’s why Hyams eventually added a cinematographer’s shingle to his misplaced confidence as writer & director.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: In spite of equal star-billing for Gould & Blake, the film is strongly tipped toward Gould. Blake, fresh off cult-item ELECTRA GLIDE IN BLUE/’73, largely stuck to tv after this.

THE AERONAUTS (2019)

After playing scientist & budding artist in the fact-based THEORY OF EVERYTHING/’14, Eddie Redmayne & Felicity Jones reunite as scientist & daredevil artiste in a fact-flaunting tale on mid-19th Century pioneer meteorologist James Glaisher and an invented ballyhooing female balloonist. (Glaisher’s actual flight partner a male research scientist.) Rising to dangerous record-setting heights, the pic must have looked spectacular on the big IMAX screen, but on home video, which is where this Amazon produced project quickly landed (World Theatrical Gross under 3 mill.), it’s reduced to the merely pretty. And while much is undoubtedly lost without that large-screen dynamic, just as much goes missing thru faulty story construction and a misguided decision to play the story in flashback from liftoff. Mechanical & formulaic (they go up squabbling/come down cooing; with flashback fill-ins en route between trial by weather & conflicting personalities). But we need that backstory & character ticks for the grand takeoff to make its effect. The film’s biggest set piece runs at 30% of its possibilities. Pleasant enough (with Redmayne & Jones’ likability levels how could it not be?), and showing director Tom Harper on firmer technical & dramatic ground than in his egregious WAR & PEACE mini-series. But with visual WOW factor reduced by scale, so too is the drama.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: You probably need to go back to Golden Age Hollywood (Musical Bio-Pic division) to find this level of flagrant factual flimflam. And, just as it was in those old films, it’s the least likely moment on screen that’s apt to be the one accurate thing. Here, it’s when the balloon rises at high altitude thru a squall of butterflies. A more or less true phenomenon.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Why would AMAZON 'green light' a film so dependent on spectacle only to limit its theatrical window so hardly anyone could see it properly? The financial model of these new streaming services mysterious indeed!

THE QUEEN OF SPADES (1949)

Something special here.  British director Thorold Dickinson, with just a baker’s dozen feature credits (mid-‘30s to mid-’50s), retains his rep from a 1940 version of GASLIGHT, retitled ANGEL STREET when M-G-M made their 1944 prestige item (George Cukor; Ingrid Bergman, Charles Boyer, Angela Lansbury).  But he really ought to be acclaimed for this gorgeous Pushkin adaptation which gets loads of Russian atmosphere from its Continental cast and super sophisticated tech lineup: composer Georges Auric, cinematographer Otto Heller, and most especially extraordinary settings from stage designer Oliver Messel.  Anton Walbrook is unforgettable as a junior officer drawn to the ‘Faro’ gambling dens, but unwilling to play till he discovers the secret of winning from an aging Countess, nearly taking down her ward and the titled officer he plays against.  The film feels closer in spirit to Dostoevsky than Pushkin (or at least to the story as known from the Tchaikovsky opera), generally far closer to a Russian outlook than other English-language filmmakers got to the great Russian novels.   Or as here, novella.  (Maybe that’s part of its success, since Dickinson can expand rather than contract from his source material.)   Edith Evans is perfectly terrifying, alive or dead, as the old Countess, while stage actress Yvonne Mitchell scores in her debut as the young ward who realizes too late that Walbrook’s interest isn’t in her.  But be aware, the film charts an unusual path, and you may only fully succumb upon repeated viewings, which are highly recommended.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID:  The recent restoration from Studio Canal (out on KINO) is essential here.  Beware of dupe prints.

HOLIDAY AFFAIR (1949)

Best known for writing Bob Hope & Danny Kaye vehicles, Don Hartman directed only a handful of films. An inadequately developed skill set which may explain why this sweet-natured, unusually nuanced Christmas story, from an Isobel Lennart script, lands a step shy of classic status. Pretty good though, and more tough-minded than this description will make it sound. Christmas Shopping Season: Young widow/single-mom Janet Leigh* and free-spirit Robert Mitchum meet-cute at Crowley’s Department Store in Manhattan - he’s clerking/she’s a professional comparison shopper. He should turn her in, but takes pity on a working mom with a six yr-old and winds up getting fired for being a nice guy. Meantime, her near engagement to ‘butter-and-egg man’ Wendell Corey is perpetually stalled. Spurred on by the pleasurable threat of Mitchum’s obvious interest, along with her young son’s distressing preference for the new guy, all relationships come to a head. No bad guys here, no villains, not a cheap shot in the whole thing, but a real ebb-and-flow liveliness, even if Hartman tends to sit on risk-free medium shots. Plus enough character comedy (check out a police station scene with Desk Lieutenant Harry Morgan showing early comic chops) and uncomfortably rude straight talk from Mitchum to keep up momentum. Even the kid avoids Hollywood cuteness. A certain patness and a rushed ending don’t help, but don’t kill it either. A welcome change from the usual Christmas pics aired every year.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: There was a Crowley’s Department store at the time, not in NYC but in Downtown Detroit near Grand Circus. Eight floors of it, navigated with some of the choicest narrow wood-slatted stair escalators still in use by the time Crowley’s closed in the 1990s. A few examples of these clunky marvels can still be found escalating on some of the higher floors at MACY’s in Manhattan. Just take care if you’re wearing heels!

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Janet Leigh, very busy with six films in 1949, was all of 22 yrs-old. Pretty young to play Mom to a six-yr-old. Yikes!

FOLLOW THE BOYS (1944)

Naturally, Universal Pictures wanted to do their bit for the WWII war effort, joining other studios by making a morale boosting/fund raising All-Star Revue showcasing their own studio contract stars. Only problem, stars on the lot were few and far between. Step up, indie producer Charles K. Feldman, currently on site, to dig up a decent enough list of guest stars to do a song or vaudeville routine between a wraparound story featuring the unlikely pairing of dancing tough guy George Raft & world class ballerina Vera Zorina. (Whatever did Zorina’s husband, George Balanchine, make of Raft’s stiff hoofing?) Never mind. Here’s a chance to watch Orson Welles’ magician saw Marlene Dietrich in half; Jeanette MacDonald warbling to wounded soldiers; a stupendous dog act (in a dog town!); Dinah Shore & the Andrews Sisters; a visibly aging W.C. Field do his pool act one more time; Arthur Rubinstein on a little Liszt; and thousands of soldiers wondering who the heck Sophie Tucker is. The best thing in here are panning shot of tens of thousands of soldiers at real U.F.O. shows (running camp shows Raft’s job in the story) as Universal contract players Donald O’Connor & Peggy Ryan dash out on an improvised stage. (Unfortunately, their act, no doubt for technical reasons, was shot back at the studio.) Oddly, Universal’s biggest contract stars (Abbott & Costello; Deanna Durbin) nowhere to be seen.

DOUBLE-BILL/LINK: Real stars aplenty over at Warners in THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS/’43; HOLLYWOOD CANTEEN/’44 and THIS IS THE ARMY/’43 trooping the colors.  STARS’ story exceptionally dreary, but essential for Bette Davis doing ‘They’re Either Too Young or Too Old’ and loads of star turns.  https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2012/02/thank-your-lucky-stars-1943.html    https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-is-army-1943.html

MY SON JOHN (1952)

Infamous as a slightly hysterical ‘Red Scare’ film (effete son Robert Walker poo-poos his parents’ Catholic/American bedrock values so must be a Communist spy*). Compromised by Walker’s death before completion (see ‘borrowed’ shots from Hitchcock’s STRANGERS ON A TRAIN in a payphone booth and its jumpy/cut & paste third act)). A misfire for ‘First Lady of the American Stage’ Helen Hayes, back in Hollywood for the first time in two decades (then waiting another two decades for her next Hollywood lead). All true. But mostly, the film reps something of a personal crisis for writer/director Leo McCarey on only his second film seven years after BELLS OF ST. MARY’S/’45 had him at the top of the Hollywood heap. In the film, the subtext to the Commie Scare storyline is Hayes’ personal struggle with menopause and the pills she won’t take to alleviate the symptoms. For McCarey, any hot flashes were self-medicated with alcohol, producing reactionary fever dreams like this on his long day’s journey to the right. A one-of-kind folly, not unintentionally funny, but is it intentionally bad? Hayes exceptionally awful, laughing thru tears from beginning to end, with Dean Jagger’s husband cackling right along with her, while emanating menacing goodness with an All-American bias & fierce Catholic devotion. Did he drive Walker into the Communist fold? Hard to know what’s intended and what’s accidental with McCarey’s technique in complete collapse where once personal grace and the kindness of Human Comedy held his films almost magically together. Five years would pass before he dared try again. And then, with the safety of a remake to keep him on track.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Unlike his two kid brothers, blond Aryan high school footballers, now off to serve in Korea while their dark older brother works & spies in D.C.

THE STEEL LADY (1953)

With a solid international rep from VARIETY/’25 (German/UFA), writer/director E. A Dupont had another prestige item in England on PICCADILLY/’29 before sound & Hollywood reduced him to journeyman status & irregular employment. Yet three decades later, no apologies needed on this penultimate effort, a swell Tall Tale ‘boy's own’ adventure, a sort of Near East Western with oil prospectors on the frontier; Bedouin nomads as hostile locals; and a prop plane doing cavalry duty on a last minute rescue. Neatly handled on a tight budget, Dupont gets strong work from rough, tough Rod Cameron when his scouting plane goes down in the Sahara Desert, stranding Rod & crew (radioman Tab Hunter, tippler John Dehmer, grousing Richard Erdman). With water & hope fading, they stumble upon a buried WWII tank lost for a decade, and holding a secret cache of priceless jewels stolen from an Arab Sheik. Yikes! I mean . . . Yippee! Soon, those ‘friendly’ Bedouins they thought were giving them a hand (and water) show their true colors: they’re out to grab the gems before the rightful Arab tribe hears of the rediscovery. Silly, but good fun most of the way, with our little crew acting noble or ignoble as needed to keep things interesting. With cinematographer Floyd Crosby, just off HIGH NOON/’52, finding plenty of atmosphere, it’s worth a look . . . just not too closely at that palm tree cyclorama backing the desert oasis!

DOUBLE-BILL: With a big budget & all-star cast, FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX/’65 has a similar vibe.

THE FAVOURITE (2018)

A great cast, fascinating period story and striking physical production pull you in to this absurd & funny, vicious & ultimately melancholy look at a lethally bitchy rivalry between two women at the British court, competing for the ear (and favors) of an increasingly frail, increasingly needy, increasingly explosive Queen Anne during her twilight years in the early 1700s.  Olivia Colman got all the notices & awards as the prickly, love-hungry Queen (with a host of debilitating medical conditions, how could she miss?), but Emma Stone is just as fine, bright blue eyes flashing after a fall to reduced circumstances, now rising thru slander, gossip, flattery & masturbatory manipulation from lady’s maid to new-minted aristo.  Best of all, Rachel Weisz (in a role Kate Winslet turned down) as the Queen’s longtime confidant & policy advisor, married to that warring patriot Lord Marlborough, but now finding herself outplayed by a fresh upstart.  The problem for the film is that director Yorgos Lanthimos is so busy putting his authorial stamp on everything, he over-eggs a rich pudding to the point where it never sets.  Pushing his cast to tear a passion to tatters when a wink would suffice; skipping basic character info that would help the plot cohere (Emma Stone marries who?)*; shooting with distorting ‘fish-eye’ lenses as if the absurd clothes, makeup & hair styles of the day weren’t ridiculous enough all on their own.  A great pity since so much is so very good in here.  Fortunately, Lanthimos (eventually) calms down and the end makes its mark.  Though even here, an indication of the fates of Queen Anne (soon to die) and Lady Marlborough (three decades to go) would have been nice.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: In the moments when the film runs off the rails, you can spend the time before it gets back on track imagining Weisz & Stone doing a read-thru of ALL ABOUT EVE.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *For instance, how might our feelings toward the Queen change if we knew of the twenty-four (!) children she & her late husband lost thru miscarriage, stillborns & early death?

REMEMBER THE NIGHT (1940)

Right before Paramount gave him the go-ahead to direct his own scripts, Preston Sturges wrote this original screenplay for Mitchell Leisen, a superb piece of character based romantic-comedy, rhymed plotting and honest holiday-themed sentiment. Like a 1940 paradigm of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Opening in cockeyed Sturges style, we gather at 'Christmas Eve Eve' court as shoplifting jewel thief Barbara Stanwyck is ordered held over the holidays by sharp Asst. D.A. Fred MacMurray. It’s a rotten trick, and he feels bad enough to arrange bail for her; only to wind up stuck with Babs over the break. Offering to drop her off at her home on the way to his, the film pivots from light & frolicsome to serious & heartfelt in a remarkably disturbing homecoming for Stanwyck. (Shot by Ted Tetzlaff like he’s trying out for Orson Welles’ MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS.) And it’s this little scene, with its reference to past domestic terrors, that sets up the second half (a winter pastorale) with Stanwyck exposed to a happy home life such as she never knew existed. Totally believable throughout, Sturges doesn’t oversell or condescend; and brings an unexpected ear for small town talk & customs, apparently helped by new wife, Louise Sargent, who had the background and even lent her name to the MacMurray clan. Emotional as a Capra pic, but less pushy about it, with Stanwyck in phenomenal form, doing more with less than anyone but Gary Cooper. MacMurray is also in top form, less he-man/more James Stewart than he usually got to play at Paramount. And nothing but well chosen grace notes from supporting players Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway and especially Beulah Bondi, who handles the tricky ‘protective mom’ moments with infinite loyalty and firm affection. Those folks at Hallmark should all take a course in this film.

DOUBLE-BILL: Four years on, Ginger Rogers & Joseph Cotten would play a sloggier variation on this in I’LL BE SEEING YOU/’44.   OR: *Unhappy with Leisen’s work on his EASY LIVING/’37 script, Sturges stewed while this one got trimmed during production. But Leisen did a fine job on both, if anything, even more assured here.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Some period race comedy with ‘Snowflake,’ MacMurray’s valet, rates a minor trigger alert.

THE MORNING AFTER (1986)

Jane Fonda initiated this L.A. murder mystery project, but it was SoCal outsider Sidney Lumet who gave it its distinctive (and paradoxical) sunshiny film noir atmosphere, all blue skies & pastel facades.* Too bad no one could bother about the script!* Fonda, awfully good here (Lumet & co-star Jeff Bridges loosening up that steel spine she’d been using as a cudgel), a one-time actress who drank her way out of the biz, wakes up in a strange bed next to a bloody corpse she doesn’t know. Remembering nothing of the night before, she spends the rest of the film on the lam, telephoning estranged husband Raul Julia for advice & support while being helped (or is it stalked?) by ex-cop/social dropout Jeff Bridges. The plot tangles are well handled by Lumet, considering their lack of logic, but neither Bridges' wary manner, nor Lumet’s gentle shock cuts can make sense of Bridges' involvement. Maybe if he was in on the plot and out to frame Fonda, we’d see some motivation for his Good Samaritan/guardian angel act, like a reverse on the two-faced characterization he’d just put over in last year’s JAGGED EDGE/’85. Faults & all, with a wondrous cast, pace & a unique vibe, this still comes across as class entertainment.

DOUBLE-BILL: Bridges at his glam peak ‘84 - ‘89: AGAINST ALL ODDS; STARMAN; JAGGED EDGE; 8 MILLION WAYS TO DIE; TUCKER; FABULOUS BAKER BOYS; even dressed down as here.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Kudos to Lumet cinematographer Andrzei Bartkowiak: 12 films in 12 years starting in 1981.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Half of Lumet’s pics feel rushed into production with undercooked scripts.

THE CRASH (1932)

Startlingly uncompromising (until the last couple of minutes), this Depression Era drama gazes dispassionately as avaricious Ruth Chatterton & unprincipled husband George Brent put themselves into a financial corner following the tainted advice of financial guru Henry Kolker, her older, just discarded lover. Welcome to high-rise New York cocktail society, where rules allow a sexual barter system for consenting adults, all eager to play the Stock Market for that lux life with comfort paid via mutually agreed upon moral compromise, knowing lies & one more highball. Eye-popping behavior even for Pre-Code 1932! Smoothly directed by William Dieterle in his breakthru year*, Chatterton thrives by moving on to her next lover/provider when her old lover leaves the country just ahead of the 1929 crash or after her broke (and broken) husband sends her down to Bermuda for safekeeping where she immediately warms to a financially stable Australian with a portfolio in sheep. Yikes! As followup, next year, Chatterton, Brent & Dieterle made the better-known feminist drama FEMALE, but this one’s even stronger.

DOUBLE-BILL: *Dieterle, moving up in Hollywood after helming German-language reshoots the previous year, put out six films in 1932, including the excellent quasi-Lubitsch comedy JEWEL ROBBERY.

MY GAL SAL (1942)

A big hit in its day, this typically fictionalized 20th/Fox bio-musical now looks downright unpleasant. Composer/subject Paul Dresser, unlikely older brother to novelist Theodore Dreiser, comes off as a heel, churning out a series of anodyne tunes at the turn-of-the-last-century when not forcing his attentions on the eponymous ‘Sal,’ or ignoring her for high society booty call. With Victor Mature in early blobby form, there’s not enough physical appeal to explain the attraction, especially when ‘Sal’ is Rita Hayworth, in her first TechniColor musical, he’s tossing over. Are you insane, man? (The main plot gimmick has him make up with a series of new hit songs.) No doubt, Rita, and the lux production, was enough to bring in the crowds, especially in those epic-grossing early WWII days. (They also caught a break nabbing Hayworth when planned lead Alice Faye went on maternity leave.) But between the wan songs and a storyline as poorly structured as it is disagreeable, the film is only worth a look for a few stage-worthy numbers, choreographed (and directed?*) by Fred Astaire collaborator Hermes Pan, nicely altering screen ratios with cuts that use stage framing devices to playful effect.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: After Rita reteamed with Fred Astaire at home studio Columbia for YOU WERE NEVER LOVELIER/’42, Hayworth boss Harry Cohn finally gave in to TechniColor on COVER GIRL/’44, with new kid Gene Kelly, and Phil Silvers brought along from this pic. Even sticking in a throwback ‘Gay ‘Nineties’ number.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Hard to imagine journeyman director Irving Cummings bothering with this sort of careful visual styling.

ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (2019)

I guess you had to be there. Not 1969 when most of the story takes place. Not at a 70mm showing in its early weeks of distribution. No, you’d probably have to be at a pitch session with Quentin Tarantino putting over his grand idea of an overarching story to capture the cultural shift in L.A. at the time of the 1969 Manson Family murder spree. What we got was this distressingly self-indulgent stroll thru an altered movie industry, already well-settled into late ‘60s decline, and a pair of laid-back macho buds, fading Western star Leonardo DiCaprio & his hardly aging stunt double/’batman’ Brad Pitt, navigating a professional & personal relationship being tested by changing circumstances out of their control. (DiCaprio playing just the sort of half-forgotten tv actor Tarantino loved to bring back from the brink.) A loose storyline that barely sustains interest while we wait for presumed violence to show. But after two hours of show-offy period detail*, the bloody massacre we’ve been counting on plays out as a loony detour so shockingly tasteless (and so sloppily presented, as indeed is much of the film’s action) as to nullify the simple pleasure-of-their-company aspects of the film. (A spot on perf from Pitt and a spectacularly good taste of Steve McQueen from Damien Lewis.)  Adding insult to injury, Tarantino slaps on narration for the last act, as if the young Quentin was still giving in to the commercial instincts of his disgraced, former producer Harvey Weinstein telling him how the youth market wouldn’t have a clue about the Manson Gang and needed voice-over explanation.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Considering the emphasis on period detail, many boo-boos in here.  See IMDb under GOOFS.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT/LINK: Moving the action a few years later, Robert Altman’s THE LONG GOODBYE/'73 gets so much right this film gets wrong.  https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-long-goodbye-1973.html

JOJO RABBIT (2019)

Audacious and wicked smart, perfectly fitted with life-lessons & sentiment, Taika Waititi finds a near miraculous balance of laughs & fear in tagging along with a hapless if enthusiastic Nazi Youth (Roman Griffin Davis) in a German town near the end of WWII. The comic twist is that the boy’s mentor is his imaginary friend, Adolph Hitler (played to the hilt by Waititi); and the tragic twist is that Mom (Scarlet Johansson) is an anti-Nazi sympathizer hiding a young Jewish girl in the attic of their house. It’s not long before the secret is discovered by the boy, but kept hidden for mutual protection. And not much longer before our 10 year-old Nazi booster falls for the slightly older girl closeted in the floor above. Dicey material for broad comedy, but a superb cast (standout work from Sam Rockwell & chubby kid Archie Yates), convincing production design & even a wildly fluctuating tone rarely lose their footing. It’s just one great creative decision after another, especially in holding off on special effects or CGI for imaginary Hitler*; and in Waititi’s clever use of anachronistic music cues & modern slang which never come off as artsy/fashionable choice, but help open the film & ideas to audiences that might otherwise not be interested. Neither fantasy nor satire, which is how the film is being sold, and with sentiment earned thru devastating personal loss, the film is a dare that pays off.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *The lack of special effects for ‘imaginary’ Hitler gives way in a bit of CGI on a final shot. One of the few missteps in the pic. Joseph Mankiewicz made much the same choice presenting his ‘ghost’ in THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR/’47, before using a double-exposure special effect right at the end.

DOUBLE-BILL: For more boldly comic/heartfelt Waititi, but in semi-autobiographic mode: BOY/’10.

MURDER! (1930)

Alfred Hitchcock’s third sound film is a rare whodunnit. Opening well enough for an Early Talkie with a nifty panning shot floating by row-house windows as nosy neighbors stick their heads out to see what all the noise & fuss is about. Very Ernst Lubitsch! Turns out there’s been a murder! and all the evidence points toward struggling young actress Norah Baring. After a hauntingly still stop at the crime scene, we head to the courtroom where a jury is being charged by the judge. Most vote guilty, and the few holdouts don’t take long to flip, including that famous, knighted stage star Herbert Marshall. Yet only days later, he’s had a change of heart. Surely this sweet young girl must be innocent. Why he nearly hired her for his acting company. He’ll just have to investigate it himself! And with that change of heart, the film suddenly stops dead in its tracks. Much slower than Hitch’s first Talkie, the still quite watchable BLACKMAIL/’29, here everyone might be playing underwater. An occasional visual trick livens things up here & there, as does a scene for Marshall & Una O’Connor with her working-class kids invading his bed. But we mostly crawl to a standstill, when the script isn’t playing at class snobbery, until finally hitting on the real culprit, a half-caste ‘passing’ as white. (The actor looks vaguely Italian and minces extravagantly. Gay in the original Clemence Dale play? Something François Truffaut, uncontradicted by Hitchcock, assumes in their famous interview book HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT.) Four more uneven films followed before Hitch found his true voice with THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH in 1934.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: The current DVD from Kino/Lorber includes the German-Language version shot by Hitch at the same time with a different cast. Worth a look for improvements in early sound technique (note the better audio balance in a tricky scene with voice-over & Wagner playing on the radio); and for the casting of a very straight/very Aryan ‘half caste.’

DOUGHBOYS (1930)

The second of Buster Keaton’s dispiriting M-G-M Talkies was the only one to see his significant creative input.  And the difference, if not transforming, is striking. His first Talkie, FREE AND EASY/’30, long, expensive, talky, showed faint understanding or appreciation of his character or abilities. He’s a tearful Pagliacci by the end. Yikes! But here, Keaton was able to draw on his own WWI service. Note he gives his age as 23 to the draft board, his actual age in 1918. And the better gags have the smell of experience. (In real life, fighting had effectively stopped by the time Buster got ‘Over There,’ but he was kept on to entertain the troops.) The service comedy tropes are pretty routine, but watch for a sweet, impromptu sing-along with Cliff ‘Ukulele Ike’ Edwards doing his eccentric jazz vocals while Buster takes over on ukulele and provides harmony.* And, in a striking bit, Buster wears drag for one of those violent ‘Apache’ Dances. The rest is hit & miss blackout jokes after Keaton accidentally joins the army; goes thru training with bossy Sergeant Edward Brophy; woos pretty Sally Eilers; and finds his former German chauffeur in enemy camp. But light on its feet for an M-G-M film in 1930, probably from Keaton stepping in with suggestions for director Edward Sedgwick. And if it can’t stand comparison with Buster’s silent masterpieces (what can?), it more than holds its own against other sound comedies of the period. Alas, after this, le deluge: Keaton’s drinking got worse, his marriage fell apart, all his suggestions ignored. The studio was making too much money off him, even as the films got progressively worse. Far more than his silents ever made. No small thing in Depression days.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Keaton’s pleasure in this song number ('live' not 'synch' BTW) is contagious, he comes damn near to smiling.

THE BIG SHOT (1941)

Maybe somebody missed the memo.* How else to explain Humphrey Bogart, on fast-track after HIGH SIERRA and MALTESE FALCON, with ACROSS THE PACIFIC & CASABLANCA, on deck, finding himself in this programmer, a real stinker from journeyman megger Lewis Seiler. Bogie must have felt the diss though, going thru the motions as a three-time loser shooting for four (and life if caught) on another job. He pulls out at the last minute when his current squeeze objects and the robbery goes bad . . . bad for Bogie as he’s fingered for a job he had nothing to do with! Then his lawyer blows the case, unused to defending an innocent man . . . especially one who's diddling his wife! Yep, the very same gal who kept Bogie ‘occupied’ during the heist. These courtroom scenes are the only good thing in the pic, with Stanley Ridges’ cuckold/lawyer smoothly pivoting on his client. Alas, as wife/mistress, Irene Manning blows the only big dramatic opportunity she ever got. At least, Sid Hickox comes thru with some dark, glistening cinematography, just not enough to save this one. Even with Bogie it remains little known. Not helped by having his partner in the inevitable prison break in full BlackFace makeup as they scale the walls. (Don’t ask.)

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Joseph Downing, the guy from the robbery gang who gives Bogart such a hard time, played ‘Baby Face’ Martin in DEAD END on B’way, a big success for Bogart in the 1937 William Wyler film. Downing plays as if he still holds a grudge.

READ ALL ABOUT IT: *One of the great Golden Age Hollywood reads Rudy Behlmer’s INSIDE WARNER BROS. (1935-1951) is nothing but studio memos.

RAGE IN HEAVEN (1941)

In spite of presumed expertise at the peak of his Hollywood prestige, producer David O. Selznick couldn’t find a decent followup for breakout contractee Ingrid Bergman after he remade her Swedish hit INTERMEZZO in 1939. Three loan-outs in 1941 (ADAM HAD FOUR SONS, this James Hilton adaptation, and the Spencer Tracy JEKYLL & HYDE), none doing justice to Bergman’s incandescence. ADAM barely an A-list pic, while even Selznick’s own INTERMEZZO far weaker than the Swedish original Bergman made in 1936. No doubt, this project sounded promising: from a James Hilton novel after GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS hit big (even grabbing Best Actor Oscar for Robert Donat over Clark Gable in Selznick’s GONE WITH THE WIND); top helmer ‘Woody’ Van Dyke on Christopher Isherwood’s debut script; and solid co-stars in Robert Montgomery & George Sanders. Yet almost nothing works in this looney tunes suspenser. There’s a single twist you’ll guess right at the start, long before former college chums Montgomery & Sanders make for the Montgomery family manse & meet Bergman, Mama’s new social secretary. It’s love all around, but Bergman impulsively (and inexplicably) takes up with Montgomery who promptly falls apart trying to run the family steel foundry. As Bergman’s affections shift, Montgomery’s mental instabilities multiply and tragedy (served with revenge) looms. Nobody on screen has much luck selling any of this twaddle, and Van Dyke hasn’t the visual flair to give it the necessary doom-laden psychological pull. Though it's fun to see young Ingrid given the full M-G-M polish.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY/LINK: Bergman stayed at M-G-M for JEKYLL AND HYDE, but campaigned to swap leading lady roles with co-star Lana Turner who took on ‘good girl’ to Ingrid’s naughty tart. A smart tactic that might have worked here with Montgomery playing gentle savior to Sanders’ tortured, paranoid creep. Not enough to save it, as was the case in J&H, but an improvement, anyway.   https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2018/08/dr-jekyll-and-mr-hyde-1941.html

DOUBLE-BILL/LINK: Montgomery seems ‘off’ here. That’s ‘off’ as an actor, not as the character. See him tackle this sort of unhinged fellow to fine effect in the unsettling thriller NIGHT MUST FALL/’37.  https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2012/12/night-must-fall-1937.html

CLOCKWISE (1986)

In one of his surprisingly few memorable non-Monty Python films, the great John Cleese plays a demonically punctual High School Head Master taking a day off to address a National Education Conference out of town. What could go wrong? Er, just about everything in this original script from farce-master Michael Frayn, author of NOISES OFF, a modern theatrical classic of the form. (Ignore Peter Bogdanovich’s unhappy film adaptation.) Always tricky on film, farce is all but inimical to naturalistic film conventions, thriving in the sliding walls & restricted confines of a proscenium stage, like a pressure cooker to raise comic temperature. On film, even Frayn can get bogged down in setups, here relying too heavily on Cleese’s verbal tic of saying ‘Right!,’ when he means ‘Yes!’ A missed train; a wife & old schoolmate deceived; a trio of batty seniors; a schoolgirl who’s stolen Dad’s car and is ending her affair with the music teacher; said teacher in mad pursuit; a bath in a monastery . . . and so on. Bumps and all, a trip worth taking. Especially once past the half hour mark, when director Christopher Morahan takes a moment to let Frayn pivot as Cleese takes stock of his options at a roadside phone booth. Just what the film needs now that all the balls are in the air, the pause that refreshes. And suddenly, everything clicks and comic hysteria builds. As Cleese memorably says at a low point, ‘It’s not the despair . . . I can stand the despair, it’s the hope!’

DOUBLE-BILL: Check out Michael Frayn’s serious side in COPENHAGEN/’02, his look at the infamous meeting of nuclear physicists Niels Bohr & Werner Heisenberg during WWII; the same meeting that figures in the climax of the Moe Berg saga THE CATCHER WAS A SPY/’18.

WITHIN OUR GATES (1920)

The first surviving film of Black film pioneer Oscar Micheaux, now at its centennial, holds obvious historical interest . . . non-historical interest is more debatable. Impressively independent in just getting it done, Micheaux’s film technique was equally independent, but less impressive. Such eccentric film grammar, the simple story of a black woman traveling north to raise funds for a poor Southern school is all but impossible to follow. A few scenes add up: a fine, animated church sermon with great reaction shots from the pews; a gossipy sit-down for a pair of racially intolerant white biddies; and the film’s most famous sequence, a double lynching treated as some sort of sick community fair, containing all the shots needed to put it together in your head even if Micheaux can’t. The idea that films were so primitive in 1920 that we need to cut Micheaux some slack ignores similar deficiencies in his later work, as well as the burgeoning film technique in general use at the time. And as for budgetary constraints, a wise man once said, ‘it doesn’t cost a penny more to put the camera in the right place.’ Shown regularly in film classes, it’s a guaranteed turnoff to future investigations by students on films of the period.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: A hundred years after Micheaux created a distinctive Black Cinema, we have scores of talented Black directors in film, in spite of remaining obstacles. Yet, towering above them all is another Black independent without a trace of natural filmmaking abilities. (No names, please!) The Oscar Micheaux legacy lives on.

EASY LIVING (1949)

Not to be confused with the Mitchell Leisen/Preston Sturges 1937 screwball classic of the same name (w/ Jean Arthur, Ray Milland, Edward Arnold), and certainly no classic of its own, this unexpectedly downbeat pro football character piece (Irwin Shaw story/Charles Schnee script) is good enough/interesting enough to count as a real missed opportunity. Victor Mature, uncommonly fit & handsome, top man in the league, is headed for a fall. A literal fall, as in fainting spells from a previously undiagnosed heart condition. Adding to his troubles: ambitious wife Lizabeth Scott needs his star power to put over her new interior decorator biz; his backup plan as college coach has just gone to BFF Sonny Tufts; office secretary/young widow Lucille Ball is carrying a major torch for him in spite of being warned off by owner/coach (and former father-in-law) Lloyd Nolan; plus he needs to perform at peak capacity in one last game to make the playoffs. (A $1000 bonus for each player hangs in the balance! Pro football in the ‘40s, Yikes!) An unusual assignment for director Jacques Tourneur, normally pegged for crime, noir & horror, who runs a tight show, especially good with Tufts & Ball in underwritten roles. What he can’t do is fill in missing pieces in Schnee’s otherwise sharp script. At just 77 minutes, the film loses focus & direction in a rushed last act that suffers from gaps in development, reshoots (?), and shockingly dated slaphappy misogyny, with almost every relationship & sports world issue compromised. Was Irwin Shaw’s story less pat? Worth a look though. Maybe worth a remake.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Late-Night tv historians get a rare chance to see the great Jack Parr in his not-so-great acting days as the team’s PR man.

ALL AT SEA (aka BARNACLE BILL) (1957)

After purring along for half a decade in a series of charmingly subversion British comedies for Ealing Studios (KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS/’49 to THE LADYKILLERS/’55), Alec Guinness reached an entirely different level of international stardom with THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI/’57. But he had one more Ealing comedy left to him in this modest, winning fable, loaded with Ealing Studio regulars in front & behind the camera. Guinness plays a inveterately seasick Captain from a Navy legacy family who finds the perfect ‘ship’ to command when he buys a seaside amusement pier which he registers as a foreign ship to avoid various town restrictions. Making a quick success of the long dilapidated structure, he’s now attacked by greedy town councilmen eager to tear it down for development and personal gain. And while the film’s delights run a bit shy of the best Ealing/Guinness pics, that’s no reason not to enjoy the real pleasures hiding here in plain sight. And such a handsome film under Douglas Slocombe’s camera, with director Charles Frend letting the gags rise to their natural level of buoyancy, much helped by a remarkably deep lineup of classic Brit supporting players. The sort of civilized film entertainment a generation once took for granted. Now, it’s treats!

DOUBLE-BILL: Less known than the Ealing Comedies, but coming right in the middle of them, THE PROMOTER/’52 (aka THE CARD) is a particular delight, with Guinness surrounded by Glynis Johns, Valerie Hobson, Petula Clark & Joan Hickson in a period comedy of social mobility.

THE CEREMONY (1963)

A vanity project from company logo (LHP over a lion*) to end credits, this Lawrence Harvey Production has the film company's eponymous star nobly suffering in a castle dungeon, a prisoner awaiting death by firing squad after a guard is killed during an anti-government bank robbery. Even in this nameless totalitarian state, Harvey could save himself if he’d give up the location of the hidden cash, but that’s unlikely. Instead, kid brother Robert Walker Jr. plans a daring rescue involving the old prisoner-in-priest’s-clothing switcheroo. But it’s all complicated by Walker coveting big brother’s stolen stake & loyal girlfriend, Sarah Miles. Harvey lays on chilly atmosphere and arty angles with a trowel, obliged by cinematographer Oswald Morris in high contrast b&w shots so frame-worthy, they cancel each other out. Same problem on the over-emotive acting & Harvey’s underwhelming directing chops. (Some of the action scenes turn inadvertently risible.) Beware good intentions!

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *There was no followup film for LHP after this, though Harvey directed two more times, finishing A DANDY IN ASPIC/’68 after director Anthony Mann died mid-shoot, and in the posthumously released horror WELCOME TO ARROW BEACH/’74 (neither seen here).

ESPIONAGE (1937)

Close but no cigar for this B+ programmer from M-G-M that grafts Ernst Lubitsch romantic calculation between rivals-turned-lovers Edmund Lowe & Madge Evans to International-Intrigue-On-A Train. In a runup to Alfred Hitchcock’s THE LADY VANISHES/’38, Paul Lukas is the man-of-the-moment as Europe teeters toward war, a munitions mogul whose sales could alter the balance of power in the region. His journey is the top story of the day and Evans goes after it for her newspaper using her editor’s passport to slip into hostile countries as his wife. At the same time, popular novelist Edmund Lowe, covering for a reporter pal, is forced to play husband to Evans when his real passport & visa are stolen. A clever meet-cute that plays out over the entire first act. Better yet, while Evans bonds with Lukas mistress Ketti Gallian, Lowe bonds just as closely to munitions man Lukas thru a mutual love of music. (That tune Lukas supposedly wrote actually from Tchaikovsky’s EUGENE ONEGIN.) A neat setup, nicely complicated by a gaggle of spies & assistants moving thru the train while authorities & train officials get in the way. Journeyman director Kurt Neuman keeps up the pace, but there’s only so much he can do to straighten out a script that misses plot points and never quite lines up the action. Still, fun to watch, with a good amount of old-fashioned glamor (thanks to lenser Ray June) in spite of Evans frustrating lack of sparkle. And watch for a magnificent aborted sneeze from master of the form Billy Gilbert.

DOUBLE-BILL: Try the excellent ROME EXPRESS/’32, a well-made British film that helped lay down the intrigue-on-a-train tropes and also lets you see what Conrad Veidt does in the Paul Lukas spot.

WOMAN ON THE RUN (1950)

Terrific. Smash film noir, virtually unknown, with a female POV unusual for the genre, skips Los Angeles for tasty on-location San Francisco sites to fine effect. It opens with a rubout, a witness in a mob case who’ll miss his court date permanently. Seen by a skittish artist out walking his dog, he senses danger reporting it to the cops and takes off at the first opportunity. That’s when detective Robert Keith (stealing every scene he’s in) uses the missing man’s dog to track down Ann Sheridan, the missing man’s wife. She wants nothing to do with the case. Hell, she wants nothing to do with her husband. But coerced by Detective Keith, she seems to do her bit, hiding a lot of purposeful misdirection while pursuing her own hunt with help from news reporter Dennis O’Keefe who’s dangled a thousand bucks for exclusive story rights when they find the husband. With snappy dialogue from Alan Campbell and suspense structure from co-scripter/director Norman Foster* (the man behind Peter Lorre’s MR. MOTO pics), this one really takes off. Even adds up in the logic department; pretty rare for a noir! And note Foster's mid-point placement on the big ‘reveal.’ Plus a great look from cinematographer Hal Mohr, Sheridan showing a new careworn beauty and all the glistening nightlife trimmings you could ask for, especially in the nerve-racking climax at a seaside amusement park. Rights to this indie Universal pickup must have slipped, keeping it off the revival radar, so bad copies abound. But good ones are now available on-line if you look around . . . and you should.

DOUBLE-BILL: *Orson Welles’ THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI/’47 shows some similarities. No surprise as Foster & Welles were pals, with Foster directing Welles in a lesser Mercury Production, JOURNEY INTO FEAR/’43, as well as collaborating on Welles’ problematic South American project, IT’S ALL TRUE and acting in Welles’ posthumous THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WIND.

DOLOR Y GLORIA / PAIN AND GLORY (2019)

Exceedingly fine. After two films that didn’t quite ring the bell, Pedro Almodóvar returns to his best form in semi-autobiographical mode. With a longstanding Federico Fellini affinity that goes back to the ‘80s in raw, edgy films like LABYRINTH OF PASSION, the echoes of 8½ and AMARCORD are no surprise here. But whereas Fellini’s early classicism curdled into mannerism & excess as he got older, Almodóvar has moved in the opposite direction with some of the cleanest narrative & least fussy visuals of his career, yet without sacrificing his signature intensely colored dramatic schemes & style. An art now so easeful & natural, you feel many will miss it, along with all that’s going on below the immaculate surface. Playing a filmmaker in triple crisis (personal, health, career), Antonio Banderas channels Fellini alter-ego Marcello Mastroianni as much as Almodóvar, as he attempts to reboot his life and heal all the mental & physical pains by successively trying out drugs, sex, work, love & memory. Memory does the trick (along with a successful medical operation!); no surprise when your memory of Mom looks like Penélope Cruz . (Nitpickers will note that Julieta Serrano makes an unlikely elderly version of Ms. Cruz.) It’s a lovely film, with a lovely, well-earned happy ending.

DOUBLE-BILL: As mentioned above, the two Fellini classics (though AMARCORD is awfully self-indulgent), but why not investigate the early, less known wilds of the young Almodóvar: LABYRINTH OF PASSION/’82 and MATADOR/’86 each especially good.

THE LITTLE GIANT (1933)

Edward G. Robinson caught a break from the ethnic heavies he’d been playing at Warners in this modest charmer. He’s still a mug who strong-armed his way to riches pushing illegal booze, but now lightens his Post-Prohibition image as a reformed mug. Closing up shop in Chicago, he takes his chances (and his fortune), along with henchman Russell Hopton, to try the high life in California. Playing the society game, falling for Helen Vinson’s society dame, and unaware he’s being set up for a fleecing till Mary Astor, the social secretary he hired after renting the family manse her late father lost, wises him up to the corrupt ways of counterfeit society. No real surprises here, but no pressing for comic effect either. With gags & characterizations relatively gentle, rising naturally from the situations; quite unlike Warners’ usual comic overselling. Best guess gives co-scripter Wilson Mizner credit for holding to tone*, along with the unexpected chemistry between Robinson & Mary Astor who shows particularly lovely form.

DOUBLE-BILL: Robinson would milk this defanged gangster routine in three broader, but still enjoyable Warners pics (A SLIGHT CASE OF MURDER//’38; BROTHER ORCHID/’40; LARCENY, INC./’42), but got the most out of the switch by splitting it in two for John Ford’s THE WHOLE TOWN’S TALKING/’35 with Jean Arthur over at Columbia.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Mizner died a month before this came out (only 56) taking his light touch with him?

SCREAM AND SCREAM AGAIN (1970)

Oddly watchable horror mash-up ineptly juggles multi-pronged storylines to inexplicably compelling effect. What starts as a police procedural on the hunt for a serial killer (with a homicide unit who might pass for Keystone Kops in dull British suits), jumps to Fascist Politics and a side-story of government power grabs (is this Nazi-like gang in office or shadow cabinet?) before we meet up with research scientist Vincent Price. Is he involved in the killings? Possibly harvesting body parts for some nefarious project? And what about that big yellow vat of flesh-eating acid he keeps in the shed? Yikes! But wait!, now we meet the human ‘harvester,’ a sharp-looking man-of-mystery, haunting the ‘Mod’ nightclub scene in hopes of collecting live lady specimens for the next experiment. Price building mix-and-match helpmates? Possibly with alien help. Double yikes! Not much is especially clear on this one, yet Gordon Hessler megs with abandon, rarely bothering to tie one sequence to another, letting the narrative line fall where it may. Watching is like changing channels on an old tv during commercial breaks. Peter Cushing shows up for a brief scene, while Christopher Lee, some sort of government enforcer, at least gets to meet up with Price for a big finish. None of them with screen time commensurate with their billing. But fun, if you don’t mind the mess.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: A sharp print of the official Stateside release is out on Kino Lorber along with a not so sharp alternate ‘uncut’ edit with only minor differences. Certainly not enough to make up for its inferior print quality.

THE FOURTH WAR (1990)

Career lows for just about everyone on this Cold War battle between Colonels Roy Scheider (in his last mainstream lead*) and DAS BOOT’s Jürgen Prochnow, with a disinterested John Frankenheimer calling shots on the Czech Border. New at the base, Scheider’s a hard-nosed guy who, missing the old ‘hot’ Cold War, tries to start it up again all on his own after a border incident. Fighting pushback from Prochnow (tanks, guns, troops*), Scheider goes ‘rogue,’ singlehandedly running nighttime raids and sabotage missions on the Ruskie side of the fence, threatening a tenuous peace with his actions. Too bad no one read the news and saw that the Berlin Wall came down a year back in 1989! Presumably, the film was set up Pre-Thaw, and there might just be a movie in a pair of matched East/West Colonels missing the bad old days before Glasnost wrecked their world views. But this sloppy piece of work ain’t it. The film barely got released Stateside.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: *Later this year, Scheider got demoted to lead supporting role in John le Carré’s THE RUSSIA HOUSE which found a new kind of life for Cold War thrillers.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *And if you think John Frankenheimer can resist that cliché shot of a tank rolling right over a camera in a pit, you’ve got another think coming.

THE CIRCUS (1928)

From any other screen comedian, THE CIRCUS would be hailed a masterpiece, a one-stop ticket to Film Pantheon status: Silent Slapstick division. But, this being Charlie Chaplin, it lies between THE GOLD RUSH/’25 and CITY LIGHTS/’31 and must live in their shadow. That, plus a misery-making two-year production (divorce; set destroyed by fire; ruined camera negative on the climatic tightrope sequence), kept this gem from receiving its due. It was four decades before Chaplin returned to it, adding a score for re-release along with an opening song & prologue. And for its first two reels, you can only marvel; as blissfully conceived & executed silent slapstick as you could dream of. Charlie on the run from pickpocket and police at a SideShow; stealing bites of a hot dog from a baby; lost in a House of Mirrors; turning into an automaton figure to evade the law . . . and get a bit of revenge. Stupendous stuff! But then, three impossible traps in our story. Traps he almost gets away with. First is the matter of place: The Circus. Like The Marx Brothers in AT THE CIRCUS/’39, where better could Charlie land?* Hard to be the eternal outsider in your natural habitat. Even tougher, the main comedy stems from Charlie stumbling into the Big Top and accidentally getting big laughs. But once hired to be funny, this new clown can’t get a laugh. He’s only funny when he doesn’t know he’s being funny. Yet, even purposefully unfunny shtick needs to put up laughs inside the movie. A conundrum inside a conundrum. Chaplin being Chaplin, he does manage to thread the needle, even if the crowd’s eruptive response seems overblown. Then most impossible of all, Charlie, pushing 40, had to learn to walk the tightrope. And not just walk it; walk it funny! Twice as hard as learning to do it straight. Needless to say, he triumphs at this physical act, even as the film’s romantic triangle, and his predetermined renunciation is left barely sketched in. Still, enough to make the film’s circular ending almost unbearably moving. Brusque sentiment before he’s off to life’s next adventure. Chaplin in second gear? Perhaps, but you’d be fool to miss it.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *The Marx Bros. would have been just as comfortable at the racetrack in A DAY AT THE RACES/’37, but that film is just as much A DAY AT THE SANITARIUM . . . where they’d also fit in!

THE CONSTANT NYMPH (1943)

Third time ‘round for this rather sticky liebestod between a classical composer in career crisis (Charles Boyer) and the besotted teenage girl crushing on him (Oscar® nom’ed Joan Fontaine). No doubt, the sexual aspect of the relationship, downplayed if still resonating here, felt less ‘icky’ in Pre-#MeToo days, but the plot depends on it! Less problematic is the music side of things, where Boyer’s initial rejection of his natural gift for lush chromatic late romanticism in pursuit of more intellectually fashionable percussive dissonance, strikingly mirrors the situation film composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold faced back in the concert hall after WWII. The film has Boyer briefly embracing his true musical nature during a visit to aging mentor Montague Love and his bohemian family of lovely girls from assorted wives. Boyer adores them all, but sees them only as children, marrying their wealthy, socially connected cousin, Alexis Smith, who grows jealous of Fontaine . . . and with good cause! Sophisticated, fascinating stuff to think about, but Kathryn Scola’s script & Edmund Goulding’s direction opt for breathless hysteria to signify artistic temperament (and just about anything else), while letting everyone overplay wildly.* And though a large cast list looks tasty (Peter Lorre, Charles Coburn, Dame May Whitty), they don’t get a lot to do. So, this one’s really for Korngold mavens, with its gorgeous chance to hear him musically riffing on a morbid subject as close as he ever got on film to the dark psychological musings of his operatic masterpieces DIE TOTE STADT (with its VERTIGO-like plot) and DAS WUNDER DER HELIANE (with its nude resurrection element!)

DOUBLE-BILL: *Six years further removed from her teenage years, Fontaine got this character thrillingly right working with Max Ophüls in LETTER TO AN UNKNOWN WOMAN/’48.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Korngold underscores less than usual in dramatic scenes, presumably to highlight the diegetic musical moments. And that’s undoubtedly Korngold dubbing the piano parts when we see Boyer at the keyboard. (BTW, nice vocal match dubbing Fontaine when she briefly sings at the piano.)

DOWN THREE DARK STREETS (1954)

Dreary low-budget FBI ‘procedural’ sees Broderick Crawford solve the murder of fellow agent Kenneth Tobey by looking into the three cases he was working on at the time. It's a lot like one of those Louis De Rochemont docu-dramas from the ‘40s, but done on the cheap for indie producer Edward Small. Made the same year Crawford co-starred with Gregory Peck for Nunnally Johnson in NIGHT PEOPLE and against Glenn Ford & Gloria Grahame in Fritz Lang’s HUMAN DESIRE, this was an odd choice, sure to lower this Oscar-winner’s Hollywood standing. Even odder to hear him drop his distinctive rat-a-tat-tat vocal delivery to a normal cadence along with 20 pounds to something near conventional leading man heft. The three cases have decent character actors which helps, and a trio of nicely varied leading ladies in jeopardy: Ruth Roman (threatened with child kidnapping), Marisa Pavan (blind wife with admirable qualities of observation), Martha Hyer (uncooperative moll). Alas, the script neither interweaves nor builds much suspense, narrative counterpoint is beyond director Arnold Laven, and a drab looking print does no favors to Joseph Biroc’s lensing. On the other hand, fans of HIGHWAY PATROL, Crawford’s indie tv series starting the following year, may get a kick watching what amounts to a three-part pilot for that fine show.*

CONTEST: Spot the connection between this film and IT’S A MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD WORLD/’63 to win a MAKSQUIBS Write-Up on the film of your choice.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: *As mentioned above, Crawford’s HIGHWAY PATROL (1955-59; 156 episodes). Always a good show, the simple production values, on-location shoots, occasional rising star (Clint Eastwood; Leonard Nimoy) working next to unknown semi-pros and near DOGMA cinema techniques, now make this little show even more invaluable, a time capsule of small town ‘50s California, with Mom & Pop diners, hideaway cabin motels and Pre-Interstate two-lane highways forcing connections with the land & small communities on the way. (Party Game: Have a drink every time they have to backup a vehicle on the show.)

ROME EXPRESS (1932)

Intrigue-packed stuck-on-a-train British thriller, technically sharp & well directed for the period by Walter Forde, but with the lion’s share of credit due to scripter Sidney Gilliat in a warm-up to his even more expertly conceived LADY VANISHES/’38, co-written with Frank Launder for Alfred Hitchcock. This one sports a series of crimes & crises (like GRAND HOTEL on wheels; already well-known as play & novel, though only filmed later this year), with a famous movie actress hiding an affair with a married man; a tyrannical business tycoon lording it over his assistant; three men vying for a stolen Van Dyck canvas which is then lost in a briefcase mix-up; an insufferable Old School bore poking his nose into everyone’s affairs; plus ‘French’ Postcards and a French detective on holiday to take charge when a body turns up along with the missing canvas. Paced at a good clip, Forde loses narrative focus here & there (a scorecard might have helped!), but you’ll pick up the thread quick enough, especially with all those tasty character actors to push things forward: Conrad Veidt, Cedric Hardwicke (exceptional!), an unrecognizable Finlay Currie as a fast-talking publicity man; Hugh Williams; Donald Calthrop; and silent film star Esther Ralston whose dialogue sounds as if it were all dubbed. Super fun, super influential, a super find.

DOUBLE-BILL: Remade as SLEEPING CAR TO TRIESTE in 1948. (not seen here) OR: As mentioned above, THE LADY VANISHES.

SHARKEY'S MACHINE (1981)

Still a major star, but off his ‘70s peak, this Burt Reynolds cop drama was designed as a prestige project, a reunion with DELIVERANCE director John Boorman.*  But when work on EXCALIBUR made Boorman pass, Reynolds took over, putting out a well-made, but standard cop thriller. Not a whodunit, we know the murderer right away, the twist comes in who got it, with the big reveal lifted straight out of LAURA/’44. Oddly, everything works better before that big twist, starting with Burt’s busted bust operation and his quick demotion from glamorous Narcotics to grungy Vice. That’s where he collects his motley crew of cops in crummy suits to run a stake-out of Rachel Ward’s high class call girl. Under the protection of Vittorio Gassman’s bigtime City Boss, she’s diddling a Gubernatorial candidate, unaware that Burt & company are watching her every move. But they’re not the only high-rise voyeurs, Gassman’s private hitman Henry Silva has a similar lookout. Someone is going down. But who? Good fun as Burt puts his motley cop machine together; such a tasty bunch of characters: Charles Durning, Brian Keith, Bernie Casey, Richard Libertini. But a distinct lack of chemistry between Ward & Reynolds starves the romance while Burt’s action staging never makes the leap from competence to flair. Still, more watchable than Reynolds’ ‘Good Ol’ Boy’ pics of the period or his attempts at artistic stretching.

DOUBLE-BILL: As mentioned above, Otto Preminger’s ultra-smooth LAURA with its gorgeous cast, Gene Tierney, Dana Andrews, Vincent Price, Judith Anderson, ‘newcomer’ Clifton Webb, and David Raskin’s swooning theme music.  OR: *To get an idea of what Boorman might have done here, see his early game-changing action/revenge thriller POINT BLANK/’67.