CAPTAIN NEWMAN, M.D. (1963)

The film version of MR. ROBERTS, a great stage hit for Henry Fonda and the top grossing pic of ‘55; yielded a tv series; a forgettable sequel (ENSIGN PULVER/’64); and this Gregory Peck vehicle, MR. ROBERTS IN A PSYCHO WARD. Not really, but it might as well be. While the dramatic lever that made MR. ROBERTS/’55 work was watching the crew ‘act out’ with wild scams & antiestablishmentarianism in response to the monotonous routine of life on a WWII supply ship, CAPTAIN NEWMAN, M.D. is set at a Stateside military psychiatric ward, so the ‘acting out’ is par for the course. (It’s like the difference between The Marx Bros. in A NIGHT AT THE OPERA/’35, where the boys stick out; and AT THE CIRCUS/’39, where they fit right in.) Here again is the rigid commander & his prized tree; the scheming junior officer who lives to break the rules; the girl with the gams who drives the men goofy; and our calm, sensible, quiet hero who rides the whirlwind, staying sane amid the madness. Heck, they even cadge the cabled death notice for a bittersweet climax. Megged by David Miller and very well shot by Russell Metty, it’s decent enough, but terribly square. The sort of military-life dramedy that M*A*S*H*/’70 would sweep away in a few years. Yet, the film demands viewing for highlighting a big generational shift in film acting. With all those deeply troubled servicemen, the film’s an orgy of big emotional set pieces. But while Greg Peck, Angie Dickinson & Tony Curtis (who does wonders with his thankless Ensign Pulver rip-off) play a waiting game and try to make the slapsticky comedy mesh with the serious stuff, the patients chew up the scenery in those sparsely furnished hospital rooms. And while Bobby Darin’s traumatized tough guy showed old-school bravado and earned him an Oscar® nom., the new-style interior implosion of a young Robert Duvall as a catatonic patient, pointed anyone with eyes in their head in a new direction.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: To see the real deal on psychologically wounded WWII vets, search for John Huston’s long-suppressed documentary LET THERE BE LIGHT/’46. Available for free on many sites, the visual quality isn’t great (a full National Archive restoration was only made in 2012). But the film, mostly interview sessions with traumatized men, is remarkable in any condition.

COLLEGE (1927)

For Buster Keaton, a perfectly pleasant comedy is a something of a letdown. But after the critical & financial drubbing he took on THE GENERAL/’26, a slide into Harold Lloyd territory (specifically THE FRESHMAN/’25) must have looked like a safe bet. Buster’s a bookish lad, off to college and hoping to win over his old high school crush from a thick college jock by trying out for every sport on campus. The film doesn’t come to life until the third reel when Buster starts failing at temp jobs (soda jerk, ‘colored’ waiter*) and all those college sports. Finally, Buster finds his place as coxswain, just when the girl needs his help. In a neat reversal you saw coming, he dashes to her rescue with an instant mastery of all the athletic skills he’d been screwing up. Basically, a series of set pieces, some prime Keaton, some running-on-empty, it adds up, along with SPITE MARRIAGE/’29, as the least interesting feature in Buster’s canon. Don’t worry, more genius was on the way with two masterpieces the following year, STEAMBOAT BILL, JR. and THE CAMERAMAN. (The current KINO edition comes with Keaton’s last short, THE SCRIBE/’66, a modest Canadian effort all about work safety. It’s no match for Keaton’s previous Canadian short, the magical RAILRODDER/’65, but it nicely matches up with this feature as another Harold Lloyd tribute with Buster getting in trouble on an industrial site like a classic Lloyd ‘thrill’ comedy.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: I - The much analyzed coda to this lightest of Keaton comedies takes a strange, bitter turn. In less than half a minute, and a handful of shots, we get the history of the married couple. And it’s no happily-ever-after; more like a tableau vivant via Strindberg.

II - Keaton fans always feel a pang watching an Olympic Team member pole vaulting for Buster. It’s the sole example of anyone stunting for Buster in the silent era. Usually, Keaton would stunt for others as well as himself. But watching the scene, the ‘sell’ isn’t the vault, but the landing roll thru the window. And that’s all Buster.

III - *Constant Readers will note that while Keaton plays a ‘colored’ waiter, we’ve posted no BLACKFACE ALERT. Why? Well, Keaton doesn’t use the traditional blackface mask & only does a touch of shuffling to confuse a customer. A neat bit of commentary, that. Plus, the presentation of the black kitchen/serving staff is all but free of the usual period stereotypes. No small thing.

DOUBLE-BILL: Keaton going all Harold Lloyd may have produced so-so results, but Lloyd going Keaton was another matter, producing what is arguably his greatest film, THE KID BROTHER/’27.

LES MISERABLES (1958)

This lux French production of the Victor Hugo classic (starry cast, Technirama, TechniColor), now out in a 188 minute edition, offers more plot than other theatrical versions, but little in the way of passion, involvement or enlightenment. What it does provide is a near perfect, make that near plus-perfect, example of the justly maligned Cinéma de Qualité that drove the staff of Cahiers du Cinéma, including future filmmakers like Chabrol, Truffuat & Godard, to distraction, serendipitously kickstarting the Nouvelle Vague film generation in France and elsewhere. And if time has tamed some of their harsher opinions, it still fits the faceless near-competence on relentless display here. (And often worse than that, especially when Jean-Paul Le Chanois stages ‘close action,’ culminating in a ludicrous escape scene set in a Parisian garret.) There’s something cumulatively infuriating in watching so much tasteful waste, as scene after scene parades listlessly in front of proscenium-bound cameras. The cast, no doubt, looked ‘safe’ on paper, but with the possible exception of Bernard Blier’s stolid Javert & Silvia Monfort’s ungainly Eponine, there’s little connection made with the iconic roles. And unhappily, that includes the great Jean Gabin, portly & impassive as the lead Jean Valjean, a particular agony both for him and for us. (It's like watching Robert Mitchum sleepwalk thru the second part of WAR AND REMEMBRANCE. Though, in his defense, Bob was 72 at the time; Jean a mere 54.)

WATCH THIS NOT THAT: Alas, the two great silent serial versions of LES MISÉRABLES from 1913 (about 5 hours) & 1925 (about 7), are unavailable in video format. Barring those, the best bet is Orson Welles' radio drama with The Mercury Theatre team. Welles not only doubles as Valjean & the criminal mistaken for him, as Gabin does, but also plays a host of other vocal roles. Makes for fun listening. In 7 parts, it runs about 3½ hours, has a reasonable amount of the book’s plot (including the great escape-by-coffin from the convent), but no Gavroche, the child hero of the doomed Revolution. A good tv production from ‘78, with Richard Jordan & Anthony Perkins, is only available in a frustratingly trimmed 2 hour cut.

THAT HAGEN GIRL (1947)

Shirley Temple, in her late-teen phase, plays a small town girl with a gossip-worthy past that only heats up when Ronald Reagan, her putative father, comes home after the war. He’s back to take over the law practice of his late mentor and hasn’t a clue that the whole town thinks Temple is his illegitimate love-child. The story chugs along in ways both simplistic & obvious as the school term winds down and romantic rivalries play out, leading to a few too many (and too convenient) last act revelations & resolutions. Some more than a little creepy. (The filmmakers seem aware of this, winding things up in a brisk, smooch-free manner.) But director Peter Godfrey unlocks an intriguing subversive streak in the material, upturning the Capra model of honest small town decency to emphasize the petty slights, willful miscommunications & suffocating atmosphere which he gets just right. For the first hour or so, it’s pretty effective before plot contrivances and some very easily refuted gossip push any legitimate issues raised into tidy boxes. In a sidebar, Reagan has an oddly chaste romantic encounter with a sympathetic schoolteacher, nicely played by Lois Maxwell, James Bond’s future Miss Moneypenny. And look for a very funny turn by a young Conrad Janis, a tv regular for decades, as an obnoxious student.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: A snarky film book from the ‘70s listed this harmless pic as one of the 50 Worst Films of All Time, along with LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD/’61; IVAN THE TERRIBLE/’44 and BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA/’74. No further comment necessary.

LA PRINCESSE DE MONTPENSIER / THE PRINCESS OF MONTPENSIER (2010)

Vet French helmer Bertrand Tavernier brings an unearned note of serious consideration to what is basically a swoony bodice ripper with footnote-worthy historical trappings. Promised to one noble brother, but playing nooky with his smoldering sibling, our eponymous, irresistible Princess gives them both up when she’s bartered off by her father to a land-rich Prince. But their wedding night has hardly ended when war calls the jealous groom away, leaving her to the wise & tender mercies of the young husband’s lordly mentor, a Protestant sympathizer grown sick of battle. He too quickly succumbs, if only in spirit!, to her flirtatious manner, but she’s not done yet! A fifth suitor, the King’s metrosexual brother is equally smitten with Mélanie Thierry’s kittenish princess. And who could blame him from yearning for those kissable lips and a manner that dials all the way up from merely coy to deeply pleasant, never quite making it to the necessary purple passion. Set to climax at the infamous Huguenot massacre of 1565, the four principals work hard to avoid the usual baggage of period costume manners so they’re easy to relate to, but largely out of touch with their strait-jacketed society. Tavernier gets his best perf out of Lambert Wilson as the calm, reasonable, sadder-but-wiser Protestant who has renounced war and lives in a sort of perpetual spiritual, political & sexual no-man’s land. Just the man we don’t need extra help understanding. It’s everybody else who could use some sympathy & attention. And while the pace, color & rhythm pick up with the romantic & religious intrigues of the last act, none of the three survivors measure up to the emotional investment asked of us. Not necessarily a bad thing in a film, just not the one Tavernier was aiming for.

TOP BANANA (1954)

That great baggy-pants comedian Phil Silvers won the 1953 Tony Award starring on B’way in this decidedly old-fashioned Musical Comedy about a great baggy-pants comedian who’s trying to keep his tv variety show on the air. It manages to be groan-worthy and irresistibly funny at one and the same time. But what makes the film version so fascinating is that it’s hardly a film at all, but a meticulous restaging of the highly stylized show (as seen during the L.A. tour?), produced with no concession to film technique, played full-out just as it had been on stage. Originally shot in 3D, in a rather astringent color process (Color Corporation of America), what survives is in decent physical shape, but only in 2D and missing almost two reels of material. Half the songs are gone, even some elisions in the middle of scenes, so, you need to watch creatively. Not hard for anyone who loves low comics as good as Silvers. Old time vet megger Alfred Green, presumably going for a you-are-there 3D effect, shot most of the film from two camera angles: Row H-Center and Row N-Center; a style Georges Méliès might have found static. The first act ends with a travesty of RIGOLETTO (another jester tale) with Silvers losing his glasses so he can blindly assist in an abduction of his own g’friend. The second act is all but plotless, relying on a big Back-To-Burlesque ‘Numbo’ for the great man, in Bert Lahr mode, culminating in a pricelessly vulgar sight gag involving a stripper’s windmill pasties. A divine moment. What remains of the Johnny Mercer score is tuneful enough, but poor Rosemarie, second-lead in the show, loses all her songs. (You can get a pretty good sense of the show, including a missing, hilarious Singing Dog routine, by streaming the Original Cast Album in stages as you watch the DVD. Check SPOTIFY.) No doubt, many will find the old gags wheezy, and the presentation antediluvian. But you never know. You just might laugh yourself silly.

DOUBLE-BILL: Richard Benjamin’s MY FAVORITE YEAR/’82 is all about a tv variety show like this and is great good fun, especially Peter O’Toole as the tippling guest star.

WINGS (1927)

As all good cineasts know, WINGS won the first Academy Award for Best Picture. Or rather, it won ‘Best Production’ while F. W. Murnau’s SUNRISE/’27 won in a category labeled ‘Best Artistic Production.’ Retroactively, the Academy chose commerce over art, and designated WINGS as its official Best Pic winner. And why not? If it isn’t exactly on an artistic par with the Murnau, it’s still a dandy piece of pop entertainment, a far sight better than many a winner to come. Clara Bow was the film’s big draw, but her crush on flyboy Charles ‘Buddy’ Rogers is really a sideshow to the big airborne battle scenes which ‘made’ the pic then, and make it now. The story gimmick is that the two small town rivals, boyish Rogers & gravely handsome Richard Arlen, are each vying for the affections of yet another girl, Jobyna Ralston, back at home, yet quickly become best pals in the sky. (It's all very bromantic.) Ralston only has eyes for Arlen, but he’s too much the gentleman to let on. Leaving Clara . . . ? Leaving her to go proactive, joining the ambulance corp to follow her guy to France. All well and good, in fact, neatly put together. But it’s the flying that’s the thing. Still pretty thrilling too, thanks to some truly innovative work by lenser Harry Perry who later topped this on Howard Hughes HELL’S ANGELS/’30. Here, when you see the boys in their cockpits, they’re really in the air, really spinning around, really flying the plane, even running the camera for their close-ups. It creates a sense of danger you can feel. Tough-guy helmer William Wellman steps up to his task, showing off his best early form, and not only in the sky. Look fast for a bit from a devastating Gary Cooper who needs but a minute of screen time to demolish the film’s two young leads with a blast of star wattage.*

DOUBLE-BILL:* There’s no good DVD at the moment, but keep on the lookout for Coop’s very own WWI aero-drama, LILAC TIME/’28 with Colleen Moore as the French girl who loves him.

BRICK (2005)

The only film easier to spot than a Sundance Audience Pick is a USC Film School Graduation project. Or rather, a first USC post-graduation commercial assignment. Here’s a perfect example (make that 'perfectly awful example') of the form.* Rian Johnson, who wrote & megged, came up with one of those High Concept ideas that sound good . . . if you don’t bother to think about it. Here it’s High School noir, a junior-league Raymond Chandler/Dashiell Hammett number about a loner student who goes into action when his ex-girlfriend goes missing. He follows some leads, finds her dead, gets beat up a couple of times, then plays one student gang against another to find out who’s responsible. Oh, and don’t forget the lying dame love interest. It’s hard to tell just how parodistic Johnson means to be, he certainly didn’t let his cast in on the gag, so Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Lukas Haas and a host of much lesser talents are more-or-less on their own. But since it’s impossible to follow the storyline, Gordon-Levitt’s feats of ratiocination defy all attempts to follow along, especially with half the cast swallowing their lines, you just sit back and get pissed off at the moody changes in color saturation & useless jump cuts which pass for style.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *No kiddin', didn't realize this was a Sundance Prize winner until I chose the poster after doing the Write-Up.  Oy!

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Raymond Chandler’s favorite Philip Marlowe was Dick Powell in Edward Dmytryk’s MURDER MY SWEET/’44. But those guys went even further, kidding-on-the-square to fabulous effect in their faux-Chandler follow-up, CORNERED/’45.

KONA COAST (1968)

A true oddity. Richard Boone stars in his own vanity production, a sort of commercial home movie with a legit director (Lamont Johnson), a name lenser (Joseph LaShelle), a scenic Hawaiian location and a cast of local nobodies in support of a trio of fading Hollywood names (Vera Miles, Joan Blondell, Kent Smith). Plus!, a phoned-in Movie-of-the-Week background score. Rough, tough Boone plays an absent dad who’s out for revenge after the daughter he hardly knew overdoses at some Free-Love shindig down the coast. (The period trappings and general youthful ‘bopping’ are the film’s one true treasure.) Occasionally, the film rises to near-competence, but generally prefers to home in on Boone’s craggy features, creepy personality and relentless self-regard. Hard to believe, but Boone’s next gig found him co-starring with Marlon Brando in the little seen THE NIGHT OF THE FOLLOWING DAY/’68. (And equally hard to believe that he was just past 50.) After that, tv and supporting roles.