THE LAUGHING POLICEMAN (1973)

Long before the current craze for Scandinavian murder mystery novels, this Swedish police procedural was transplanted to San Francisco where its serial killer found a home among the changing social fabric of the day. Crudely megged by Stuart Rosenberg who seems to be aiming for frank realism, the story never comes together in a manner we can follow, and the little character vignettes don't add enough to the mix. (The film trots out youth, porn & gay subcultures as if they were circus oddities.) It’s left to the actors to gain our interest, but everyone seems slightly miscast. Walter Matthau lowers his considerable brow, chews gum & works hard to stay in a dour mood (the pic’s title is, er, ironic) while his new cagey partner (Bruce Dern) tries for seedy charm, but can’t get past the alarming hair color he’s been given. Lou Gossett has a bit of life to him, but he gets little screen time, and the baddies are an unpromising lot. If only Rosenberg was able to get some pace & excitement going on in the action set pieces he might have jump-started things. No such luck.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Matthau book-ended this tepid number with Don Siegel's twisty revenge masterpiece, CHARLEY VARRICK/’73 and Joseph Sargent’s solidly-crafted, audience-pleasing THE TAKING OF PELHAM ONE TWO THREE/’74, another police procedural that gives off just the sort of tangy NYC vibe & suspense, thanks to Peter Stone’s winning script, we don’t get from San Fran in LAUGHING.

RAWHIDE (1951)

This chamber-sized Western doesn’t strain for big effects, it's content to be solid & well-crafted, with a vet cast & crew all working near the top of their form. It’s your basic hostage drama: a lonely outpost; four escaped convicts; a stagecoach due to arrive with a load of gold; and a couple of strangers (plus a toddler) trying to survive the ordeal. Tyrone Power & Susan Hayward get roles that are just the right size for them, they make a very sympathetic duo. And the bad guys are unusually intriguing: soft-spoken Hugh Marlowe, kindly Dean Jagger, George Tobias (as a Ukrainian) & the young, wild-eyed Jack Elam as the psychopath. Helmer Henry Hathaway is just nuts about Elam’s OTT features and gives him the sort of showcase treatment he gave Richard Widmark on KISS OF DEATH/’47. Milt Krasner’s lensing & Robert Simpson’s editing are exceptionally sharp, they help Hathaway turn clean logistics into crackling suspense. (A scene where the toddler wanders off into scrub land earns a D. W. Griffith Seal-of-Approval.) Scripter Dudley Nichols tended to wear his intellectualism on his sleeve (note the dramatic unities of time, place & action), but this time his allegiance to classical form loosens everyone up. Only a perfectly dreadful background score (lots of ‘Oh, Susannah’) lets down the team.

I GIRASOLI / SUNFLOWER (1970)

The good news is that KINO-Lorber has put out legit copies of this title, along with two more Carlo Ponti produced pics starring his wife, Sophia Loren, all helmed by Vittorio de Sica. (Ciao, crappy Public Domain DVDs!) The bad news is that we get a fine clear copy of . . . SUNFLOWER, their artistic nadir. Loren knew she was at her best under De Sica, his great gifts with non-pro actors undoubtedly came into play, but she was only right about their comedies.* This alas, is a soapy concoction about a rushed WWII marriage between Loren & Marcello Mastroianni and his subsequent disappearance at the Eastern front. Sophia searches all the Russias until she finds her man . . . and then the complications set in. There’s hardly a believable moment in the whole soggy contraption, even cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno phones it in, while Henry Mancini’s slushy score tries to outdo Maurice Jarre on DR. ZHIVAGO/’65.* Near the end, a couple of atmospheric scenes in & around the Milan train station with a defeated Mastroianni show what the film might have been, but it’s hardly worth hanging around for. Hard to believe that De Sica, scripter Cesare Zavattini & co-producer Arthur Cohn’s next was a film as superb & sophisticated as THE GARDEN OF THE FINZI-CONTINIS/’71.*

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Naturally, Sophia won her Oscar for the heavy dramatics of De Sica’s TWO WOMEN/’61 rather than any of their delectable comedies. **And, wouldn't you just know it, Mancini got Oscar nom’d for this sludge-fest. ***On the other hand, while Holocaust-themed pics indiscriminately earn Oscar’s favor, FINZI-CONTINIS actually deserved its Best Foreign Pic nod.

JOHNNY ENGLISH (2003)

This spy spoof of all things Bondian, James Bondian, left little trace Stateside, but it scored big in Europe, hence the current sequel, JOHNNY ENGLISH REBORN/’11. It’s a bit of a silly mess, but when it’s funny, it’s very funny. Rowan Atkinson is a mid-level clerk at MI-5 who gets to play secret agent when all the double-0s go down. Naturally, he’s a disaster who somehow manages to win the day with the help of a beautiful femme fatale spy & his trusty assistant. This came out just after the final AUSTIN POWERS and got mis-marketed as a rip-off. But it's more Peter Sellers/Blake Edwards PINK PANTHER than Mike Meyers redo, and infinitely better than Steve Martin’s sorry attempts to revive Clouseau. If only the ‘80s Bond pics weren’t already self-parody. Peter Howitt megs with almost too much pace, he doesn’t properly set up his gags, and the sexual attraction between Atkinson & Natalie Imbruglia’s vampy spy remains inexplicable. (Though the affectionate loyalty of sidekick Ben Miler is just great.) John Malkovich plays the super villain, a Frenchy who wants to be King of England, with the oddest French accent on record. Since Malkovich lives in France & speaks the language, this is . . . an attempt at humor? But it’s hard to care about what misses the mark during the three or four set pieces that really come off. Shriekingly funny stuff, even when you see what’s coming a mile away.* Atkinson’s best work may have been on tv: an early solo gig, Mr. Bean sketches, the glories of Black Adder, but the good bits in here are very welcome.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Is there a Comedy Corollary to Hitchcock’s Rule of Surprise vs Suspense? As he used to explain it, if a bomb explodes under a conference table, you get five seconds of surprise. But, let the audience know there’s a bomb under the table, and you can build up five, even ten minutes of suspense. So, if you see a joke coming, assuming that it’s well played, of course, do we get five extra minutes of anticipatory comic tension before the pay-off? Check out the first deleted scene on this DVD to see if knowledge of a coming joke whets the appetite . . . or dulls it.

FANTASIA (1940)

The latest edition of this classical music cartoon compendium has been visually buffed up for Blu-Ray release with dazzling results, even on a regular DVD. Alas, the original FantaSound tracks, a pioneering 7-channel stereophonic system, were lost decades ago. (Mixed down to 3-track or mono for previous reincarnations, the current multi-directional digital manipulation is a hit or miss affair.) The commercial failure of the pic remained a particular sore point for Walt Disney. Consensus held that it tanked when high brows rejected it as ‘kitschy’ while unwashed masses felt Walt had gone ‘high hat.’ Only the comic relief of Mickey in Dukas’ THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE and the ballet menagerie in Ponchielli’s DANCE OF THE HOURS earned approval. But this explains little. PINOCCHIO/’40 also flopped in its first release. So did BAMBI/’42. Only DUMBO/’41, with its short running time and simplified technical production, held to a financial model that broke Disney’s post-SNOW WHITE losing streak. And FANTASIA’s first-run Road Show expenses only made the nut tougher to crack. So too, the film’s revue format, as Sam Goldwyn & Louis B Mayer discovered with THE GOLDWYN FOLLIES/’38 and ZIEGFELD FOLLIES/’46. The real loss is that Disney bought into the ‘accepted wisdom’ explanations and never put quite so much of himself in a film project again. After this, his deepest personal involvement went toward the war effort and then into theme parks. A shame, since FANTASIA looks better (and more entertaining) than ever. Even the less successful ideas, like those nubile teenage centaurs fresh from Schwab’s make-up counter, have gained a certain period charm. And what modern day focus group would have left Evolutionary Theory, pert breasts, demonic wickedness & nudity in a ‘G-rated’ feature? At its best, which is often, the film is a knockout.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Many theaters in that crucial late-‘60s re-release played the film with short reels with Projector A running all the odd numbered reels thru a ‘Flat’ framing gate, for a screen ration of about 1.77:1, slightly clipping the top & bottom off the picture. Projector B played the even numbered reels with the traditional Academy Ratio framing gate of 1.33:1.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY II: Look closely during the Beethoven Pastoral Symphony when Bacchus enters at the beginning of the Second Movement. He’s accompanied by two black female servants. These two are all that remains of the black servant characters who once helped the pastel colored centaurs with personal grooming. Note a red carpet that unfurls in front of Bacchus all by itself. The black bearers have been erased! These servant characters were deleted for the ‘60s re-release with edits and some reframing which now seems to have been redone to smoother effect. Watch for some tell-tale 'walking' foliage that’s probably covering up these lost Grecian Blackamoors.

DOUBLE-BILL: The great choreographer George Balanchine visited Disney (with Igor Stravinsky) when he came to Hollywood to work on THE GOLDWYN FOLLIES. Disney must have been paying close attention since he nipped some staging ideas out of that pic for this film’s hilarious DANCE OF THE HOURS ballet travesty.

READ ALL ABOUT IT: While it’s still fashionable in academic film circles to view FANTASIA with condescension, our greatest dance critic, Arlene Croce gives it the sophisticated treatment it well deserves. See her Write-Up in the March 12, 1984 edition of The New Yorker, also collected in her book, WRITING IN THE DARK: Dancing at The New Yorker.

BOXED (2002)

The twist in this standard-issue IRA hostage tale holds real dramatic promise, but not enough to freshen up the relentlessly ordinary treatment it gets from its cast & debuting writer/director Marion Comer. Apparently, before the recent cessation of hostilities, IRA terrorists had a circuit of so-called ‘tame priests’ who they could call on to administer last rites before killing a prisoner. The priests offered absolution to the vicitm . . . and kept their mouths shut. Then, it's on to the next soul. With a running time of 77 min., Comer might well have stuck with this moral dilemma as her play’s engine. Instead, we get a big fat gimmick as the IRA operatives bring in the wrong priest! A young, questioning pup who’s already in conflict with his superior (the ‘tame’ guy, natch) and with his own ideas on how to serve Jesus . . . blah, blah, blah. The actors attack their lines as if they were still auditioning for their parts and the physical look of the video-to-film (then back to video!) DVD transfer hardly helps. And yet . . . there’s a legit idea hiding in here. Pity.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: There are loads of better IRA dramas around, but this film is more in line with a classic hostage pic like THE PETRIFIED FOREST/’36. Our soggy priest would have killed to play the Leslie Howard role.

WALLENBERG: A HERO’S STORY (1985)

Raoul Wallenberg, one of the most intriguing & admirable characters of the Second World War, was a rich Swedish ne’er-do-well when he reinvented himself at his country’s consulate in Budapest. With little more than personal charm and the creative use of forged documents, he managed to put a large percentage of the local Jewish population under Swedish protection and save thousands from both the occupying Nazis and the Hungarian ‘Arrow Cross" fascists. And, apparently, had a great time doing it. Until the war ended and the new Russian occupiers spirited him away. This well-received mini-series, written by Gerald Green who also wrote the HOLOCAUST mini, is skillfully structured, if on the blunt side, and exceptionally well directed by Lamont Johnson, an undervalued helmer of film & tv. But what really makes it work is Richard Chamberlain’s perf as Wallenberg. While he never quite registered in features, here, his delight at seeing will-o’-the-wisp decrees & strategies taking hold over Nazi generals, Hungarian collaborators & even his own staff, is infectious. Yet, the dire urgency of the situation also comes thru. Not all the characters find similar balance, a romantic subplot never convinces and some of the Jewish characters might have found gainful employment on Manhattan’s Second Avenue, but Kenneth Colley’s Eichmann gets under your skin. (If only he didn’t look like THE PAJAMA GAME’s Eddie Foy, Jr.!)

DOUBLE-BILL: A Swedish telling, GOOD EVENING, MR WALLENBERG/’90, with Stellan Skarsgard, uses a darker pallet to concentrate almost exclusively on the last chaotic days of the Nazi occupation in Budapest.

FLAWLESS (2007)

It’s best to ignore the jarringly tone-deaf contemporary scenes that bookend this period diamond-heist pic if you want to try the plot twists & suspense in Michael Radford’s smoothly helmed caper. As an elderly maintenance man with a plan, Michael Caine hasn’t been in a film with this many ‘reveals’ since GAMBIT back in ‘66. Now a senior citizen, he works double-duty, adding the amoral string-pulling action John Abbott played in GAMBIT to his normal Michael Caine activities. And with slimy diamond brokers & two-faced insurance executives as adversaries, it’s not too hard to root for some personal payback for him and partner Demi Moore. As the oft passed-over female exec at the diamond exchange, she’s got a grudge of her own. But is she partner or patsy in Caine’s scheme to loot a small cache of gemstones? And why a small handful of rocks when there are millions? As things go awry, you can’t help but notice holes in the story (is Caine the only maintenance guy in the whole building?), but Radford keeps it moving along, even sacrificing suspense when it threatens to leave too much time to think. There’s a typically fine cast of Brit Shits for that clubby grey-suited atmosphere, but American-in-London Moore never picks up on the kidding-on-the-square tone. She plays it all too straight, reveling in the 'serious message' of those phony framing scenes and looking less flawless than clueless.

DOUBLE-BILL: They’re remaking of GAMBIT. Why not catch the 1966 original before they wreck it.

HOW THE WEST WAS WON (1962)

It’s not so much the Wild West that’s tamed in the latest remastering of this pic as those disfiguring ‘joins’ between the three interlocked picture-panels of the original CINERAMA format. Just as important, the color scheme on the three separate film negatives have been re-equalized for a much smoother match across-the-frame. (Check out the trailer to see the difference/improvement. Was it re-mastered from the 70mm single image re-release transfer print? See poster, below.) Too bad the DVD producers couldn’t also fix the clichéd plot, corny acting and the technical peculiarities of CINERAMA that made close-ups nearly impossible and all the interiors look like warehouses. Dashing past three pioneering generations and an entire continent in 2 & a half hours leaves only so much time for character development and the plot plays out like a highlight reel with one major ‘WOW’ set piece per section. The All-Star cast makes it easy to follow the various plots, but the acting is right out of a Dean Martin Celebrity Roast. Except . . . except for the remarkable reel and a half segment on the Civil War helmed by John Ford. Listen carefully and you’ll immediately hear the tone of the film change as composer Alfred Newman brings back a motif from his own 1940 score for Ford’s HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY. (Ford had just borrowed Newman's 'Ann Rutledge' theme from YOUNG MR. LINCOLN/’39 for THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE/’62.) The actual war scene is fine (John Wayne as Sherman & Harry Morgan as Grant), but it’s the bookend scenes back on the family farm that really sink in. Suddenly, everything on the screen seems to matter. The acting grows in stature; triangular compositions find dramatic possibilities in CINERAMA’s visual oddities; the pacing breathes the song of life; and the late-Fordian tone of melancholia briefly takes over. Then, it’s back to the show.

DOUBLE-BILL: Try this with a WideScreen 70mm Western made all the way back in 1930, Raoul Walsh’s flop epic, THE BIG TRAIL. The format & early Talkie technology make this both stiff & fascinating. Like HTWWW, it’s mighty shy with cutting and close-ups, but it has the real smell of the West on it. And that shockingly handsome, callow youth playing the lead is a kid by the name of John Wayne.