HYDE PARK ON HUDSON (2012)

Richard Nelson, an American wright of elegant plays everyone assumes are British, doesn’t exactly hit the ground running in his first film script, a rich, but highly speculative account of a late ‘30s visit to President Roosevelt’s Hyde Park home by the British Royals. With war looming in Europe, a charm offensive was needed . . . on both sides, hindered by a lack of confidence by a new King & Queen without much glamour; and by the unusual relationships between Franklin, Eleanor & enough close friends, in-laws, mistresses & bosom companions for a couple of scorecards. Franklin’s latest (putative) affair arises gently, with a distant cousin during a spin in a specially rigged car run all by hand . . . so to speak. Up to this point, we might be seeing some poor relation to Noël Coward’s HAY FEVER (say, Woody Allen’s A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S SEX COMEDY/’82), but everything improves rapidly once The Royals show, like a good dinner party that clicks into place. And just such a party turns out to be our main subject. First a formal dinner, then the famous picnic where the King was served all-American hot dogs sans utensils. Darned if he didn’t eat ‘em up, just like a regular chap . . . er, regular guy. Bill Murray, after years of coasting, shows real acting chops as FDR, lightly touching on the famous voice & mannerisms, while Samuel West makes something of his own out of stuttering King George VI. Together, a late night chat between King & President becomes the clear highlight of the film, with a Shavian wit to it that lets us see how FDR used his handicap to his advantage. The whole cast shines under Roger Michell’s smooth helming, though Laura Linney, as cousin Daisy, is inching ever closer to perennial award-worthy nobility. (NOTE: Once again, we should point out that a 'Family Friendly' tag does NOT mean a Kiddie Pic, but a film that might interest the whole family. This film has a bit of sex on (near) display. But hey, ain't that how you get a family?)

DOUBLE-BILL: Roger Michell’s PERSUASION/’95 got a bit lost during the last Jane Austen adaptation cycle, but it’s surely the grittiest and, quite possibly, the best of the lot.

THIS ISLAND EARTH (1955)

See, there’s this man with a giant forehead! And he’s on the hunt for the world’s most exceptional minds! Secretly testing them; picking the best of the bunch; flying them to a secret lair to begin the great task! John Galt from Ayn Rand’s ATLAS SHRUGGED? No? Actually, it’s Dr. Exeter from this decently produced, but generally lousy ‘50s Cold War-era Sci-Fi pic. (Anyway, Rand published two years after this came out.) Jeff Morrow, wearing a big prosthetic forehead, is Exeter, our putative John Galt character, but really an alien being charged with saving his fast fading planet. And, wouldn’t you know it, things don’t go as planned. Stiff Rex Reason (his real name) is the hunky daredevil doc who winds up going on a space ride to help an alien race, along with sexy scientist Faith Domergue. This should all be a lot more fun than it is, but the plot never adds up to much and the film has little to offer beyond its eye-popping TechniColor restoration and glossy effects.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: William Cameron Menzies’ INVADERS FROM MARS/’53 is just one example of the many Cold War era Sci-Fi alien scare pics that top this limp thing.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Baby-boomers may remember this in WideScreen. Begun in ‘53, it was one of many films caught in the trap of starting production just before the switch away from the old Academy Ratio. This film, apparently, was originally projected thru a framing aperture that cropped the 1.37:1 image to show as 2:1. The latest DVD goes back to the squarish ‘full-screen’ format so that everything that got filmed shows. But feel free to zoom in one level for your very own cropped image of 1.85:1. (Just don’t use the anamorphic/16x9 setting.)

TELEFON (1977)

Considered something of a dud when released, this Don Siegel/Charles Bronson espionage thriller now looks considerably better. As director-for-hire, Siegel can’t do much to camouflage the farfetched ‘sleeper-agent’ plot (very MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE/’62), but there’s a lot of pleasure in getting reacquainted with his clean, direct, all but styleless efficiency that has him parsing action & exposition without a wasted move. Bronson’s natural reserve as an actor is very effective as a Russian agent who’s sent Stateside to stop Donald Pleasance’s rogue KGB officer from activating middle-aged sleeper-agents after a couple of decades hibernation. (Amazingly, their ammo’s right on hand, and their suicide pills still potent 20 yrs after their expiration date!) As an age-appropriate partner, Lee Remick works surprisingly well with Bronson, watch their body language in a tight plane interior, but not even Don Siegel can make anything but hash out of a C.I.A. manhunt that plays like an afterthought. Fun ‘70s-era computers, though. Michael Butler’s sharp lensing comes up pretty soft in the current DVD transfer, but don’t hold your breath for an upgrade.

DOUBLE-BILL: Siegel’s next was his last big success, an exceptional reunion with Clint Eastwood on ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ/’79.

WHISKY (2004)

While not quite the classic its many international awards might indicate, this minimalist charmer from Uruguay delights with its off-beat sense of humor & interpersonal mysteries. It’s young filmmakers, Pablo Stoll and the late Juan Pablo Rebella, have obviously paid close attention to early Aki Kaurismäki (and perhaps late Luis Buñuel), but still sing a droll tune of their own in this three-hander about a middle-aged sock manufacturer who asks his long time assistant to pose as his wife when his brother from Brazil (also a sock manufacturer) comes to town for the anniversary of their mother’s death. From this set up, three wary relationships play out, almost in slow motion, with a quiet comic edge rising from human foibles bumping into each other. Especially so, when the younger, livelier brother insists on extending his visit with a trip to the nearly deserted grand hotel of a once vibrant oceanfront resort town. The film never finds the ‘found beauty’ of a Kaurismäki composition, with its visual balance & blocks of vibrant color, nor do they attempt the dense narrative stratagems Kaurismäki manages without you realizing it. Here, if you think you’re just moseying along, chances are, you are just moseying along. But it’s often a pleasurable stroll, and there’s a neat payoff you get to put together inside your own head.

DOUBLE-BILL: Kaurismäki’s early ‘Proletariat Trilogy’ pairs up nicely. Especially, THE MATCH FACTORY GIRL/’90 or ARIEL/’88, which also makes a fine introduction to his work in general.

IS MY FACE RED? (1932)

There were enough fast-paced newspaper dramedies in the early ‘30s to support sub-genres such as this little number about a Walter Winchell-like gossip columnist. Right now, he’s riding a speakeasy murder ‘exclusive,’ juggling longtime B’way steady Helen Twelvetrees against society dame Jill Esmond, and still making time for his nightly radio broadcast in-between hitting all the night spots in town. But with no rat-a-tat-tat pace and Ricardo Cortez smiling wanly (and only showing chemistry with the terrific Arline Judge as his loyal secretary), the stakes & energy level are distressingly low. And what’s with that Italian accent from film heavy Sidney Toler? He already sounds like Charlie Chan. The megging from William Seiter does little to enliven things, but there’s a brief reprieve near the end when he suddenly sits on a single low camera set-up for an entire three-page dialogue scene. Suddenly, the film seems to have possibilities.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Lee Tracy, B’way’s original Hildy Johnson in THE FRONT PAGE, was born to play this sort of thing. Try BLESSED EVENT/’32, one of his best. Zippy, nasty, and with a tasty debut from a very young, very funny Dick Powell.

KILL LIST (2011)

Ben Wheatley’s British indie pic, as tough as it is weird, got a buzz-worthy critical reception, but only a token Stateside release. It opens, like many a hit man tale, as a psychotic professional killer, with troublesome family issues, takes on a new assignment with an old partner after weathering a botched previous job. Act Two morphs into a freak out horror show when their second victim turns out to be involved in dealings even more heinous than murder-for-hire. Then, Act Three lands in, of all places, Wicker Man campground, for a trick ending that works too hard to shock. Wheatley gets credit for stretching his small budget, but his penchant for micro-managed jump-cuts grows wearisome (the jangle-factor soon dissipates). And must his cast delivery so much dialogue while eating? Hard enough to decipher what’s being said between mumbles & local accents. File this one under less than meets the eye.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Add your own neat comic spin to the proceedings by noting how much the lead couple look like Kelly Ripa & (from certain angles) Ricky Gervais. Pointless, but amusing.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: While the films aren’t strictly comparable, Neil Maskell’s stressed out, explosive Dad, brought Terry O’Quinn’s great creepy work in THE STEPFATHER/’87 to mind.  (Along with late Kubrick.  Yikes!)

ST. IVES (1976)

Less a movie than a ‘deal memo’ that slipped into production, this limp Charles Bronson pic tries for a ‘MALTESE FALCON’ vibe with John Houseman making like ‘fat-man’ Sydney Greenstreet, Jacqueline Bisset in the Mary Astor spot as a lying femme fatale and even Elisha Cook, Jr. (from the original) in a small role. Maximilian Schell has what should be the Peter Lorre role, but you’d hardly know it. What a shame they didn’t also borrow the storyline. Instead, we get Bronson as a tough crime writer with gambling debts who’s hired by Houseman & Co. as go-between to help recover some stolen papers. Something or other to do with an international crime syndicate. Don’t ask. It’s dreary stuff, with megger J. Lee Thompson, scorer Lalo Schifrin & and even lenser Lucien Ballard all phoning it in. A quick shot of a young, slack-jawed Jeff Goldblum is fun to spot, but Bronson soon takes him out of action and the film goes right back to sleep.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Bronson was at his best the previous year, co-starring with James Coburn in Walter Hill’s fine debut pic, HARD TIMES/’75, finally out in its original WideScreen format.

LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN (1925)

Oscar Wilde’s epigrammatic drawing room ‘dramedy’ (‘dramedy’ of manners?) made for an unlikely early Hollywood masterpiece from Ernst Lubitsch. And he managed to do it without resorting to a dull series of ‘witty’ title cards. Instead, locating psychological insight, finessing licit & illicit affairs, painting the rigid British class system and larding his tale with ‘Lubitsch Touches,’ his unique visual aperçu, a combination of framing & staging strategies that called on space, character placement & shifting scale to covertly develop gags & drama out of opposing social forces. And, Lubitsch being Lubitsch, that would include furniture, doorbell buzzers & a mislaid fan. The story follows two main scandals: in one, an insecure young wife flirts with a dashing, if caddish, gentleman (Mary McAlvoy; Ronald Colman), unaware that her husband is being gently blackmailed by an adventuress hoping to regain a foothold on respectability and even marry rich old Lord Lorton (Bert Lytell; Irene Rich; Edward Martindel). Her leverage is that she’s the long lost, secret mother of Lady Windermere. But once Lord Windermere’s assistance starts looking like a love affair, only sacrificial mother-love can come to the rescue of reckless behavior. There are any number of lousy Public Domain editions to avoid, but the transfer on MORE TREASURES From American Film Archives - Program 3 is quite good, and comes with a bunch of spiffy extras, including a heartbreaking look at a few Movie Trailers for lost silent features. There’s one for a 1926 GREAT GATSBY with Warner Baxter; a spectacular looking BEAU SABREUR/’28 with a spectacular looking Gary Cooper; THE AMERICAN VENUS/’26 with Louise Brooks; and, from Lubitsch, THE PATRIOT//’28, a huge production that was his final collaboration with Emil Jannings. Only these tantalizing glimpses remain.

DOUBLE-BILL: Two sound versions (not seen here), THE FAN/’49 and A GOOD WOMAN/’04, have poor reps, but keep an eye out for Alexander Korda’s strikingly fine adaptation of Wilde’s greatest play, AN IDEAL HUSBAND/’47. It’s Korda’s best work as director, with an unmatchable cast in roles not unlike the dramatis personæ of WINDERMERE. With a fine DVD available in the U.K., it can’t be long before it shows up Stateside. Till then, skip the archly handled 1999 film which pointlessly ‘opens up’ Wilde’s perfectly crafted play and has Minnie Driver (Minnie Driver!) speaking his dialogue.

WHERE LOVE HAS GONE (1964)

Director Edward Dmytryk, producer Joseph E. Levine & scripter John Michael Hayes made so much money for Paramount adapting Harold Robbins’ THE CARPETBAGGERS/’64, his roman-à-clef on the young Howard Hughes, they quickly regrouped for a second helping of Robbins schlock. But whereas the first film came out good trashy fun, this one was just trashy. This time our distinguished author plays off the sensational real life murder of Lana Turner’s gangster/boyfriend by her daughter, with Susan Hayward in for Lana, now a promiscuous sculptress, though she barely seems wanton enough for all the to do. Certainly not from her new hubby (a hopelessly flat Mike Connors), who quickly loses his architectural mojo when he lets his rich new mother-in-law (Bette Davis, e-nun-ci-at-ing every syllable) run his life & drive him to drink. Years after the inevitable divorce, Connors is reformed, but his poor daughter (a screechy Joey Heatherton) is a mess . . . a mess with raging hormones & a deadly awl. (Sculptor’s tool, natch.) It really shouldn’t be as terrible as it is, but even the tech elements look lousy, as if Hollywood standards had fallen off a cliff sometime between these two 1964 adaptations. Maybe they did.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Check out the hilarious camera placement when Hayward slashes away at a garish portrait of Mom. It’s from behind the painting. Presumably the P.O.V. of one of the film’s many color-coordinated walls. And watch for a 20-yr flashback with everyone looking exactly the same.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: As mentioned, THE CARPETBAGGERS shows how this sort of thing can be both well-crafted & fun, while the Henry Hathaway prequel to that film, NEVADA SMITH/’66, is even better.