CRY HAVOC (1943)

THE WOMEN meets the 300 in this stagebound film adaptation of Allan Kenward’s flop B’way play about army & volunteer nurses stuck in WWII Philippines as the Japanese close in. Trying for throat-lumping sacrifice & patriotism, it overloads on dramatic incident . . . when not making like BABES OF BATAAN. (See poster.) Scripter Paul Osborn holds his nose on all the crises and largely sticks with the play’s all-gal gimmick (though look fast for Robert Mitchum dying on a stretcher), but the ensuing artificial texture in script & production places this far off the comfort zone of director Richard Thorpe, slowly moving up from B-pics. If it all proves too mechanical in feeling & structure to give off much emotional charge, there’s some pleasure in watching all those featured female players working away together; stalwarts like Margaret Sullavan & Fay Bainter as well as undersung good-time gals like Joan Blondell & Ann Southern.

DOUBLE-BILL: Paramount had SO PROUDLY WE HAIL/’43, their own Philippine nurse drama, out a couple of months before this M-G-M release. It’s not exactly better, but with a starrier cast and a more consistent/confident tone, it does feel more comfortable with itself.

THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF (1962)

With hundreds of writing & directing credits under various names, the maddeningly prolific Jesús Franco (aka Jess Frank; David Khume; Lulu Laverne!, et al.) got his first international attention on this cheap, but effective horror pic. The main storyline is lifted out of Georges Franju’s poetic horror classic EYES WITHOUT A FACE/’60*, apt for a story that ‘lifts’ victim’s faces for grafting on a surgeon’s facially disfigured daughter. But unlike Franju’s sui generis chic dread & haunted atmosphere, Franco is something of a bargain-basement magpie stylist, bopping on classic Universal ‘30s horror, John Brahm’s 1940s Goth, the roving POV of Hammer Films and just about whatever else caught his fancy. And ‘catching his fancy’ is exactly what the mad, bad doctor is trying to do, especially when he spots a perfect match for his injured girl. Too bad this target’s beau just happens to be the lead detective on the case! Hmm. Considering all the silliness, the film boasts some striking location work, along with more box-office boosting nudity than was usual for the time. Bosoms aside, the best thing in here is the strange, blinded assistant who does Orlof’s bidding just for the pleasure of human contact as he carries his curvy quarry back to the castle’s spooky operating room. The second best thing, at least in the recent KINO-Redemption Series DVD, is the sharp, obsessively knowledgeable expert burbling away on the Commentary Track. This guy needs a life! Someone might also let him know that the biggest gag on the opera poster is listing Meyerbeer instead of Gounod as the composer of FAUST.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Dr. Orlof is played by the hard working Howard Vernon, a regular in Franco pics, who, at times, shows a striking resemblance to Jonathan Frid of DARK SHADOWS fame.

DOUBLE-BILL: *Franju’s output was a fraction of Franco’s. Really a fraction of anyone’s. But no one should miss LES YEUX SANS VISAGE.

THE ILLUSIONIST (2010)

Sylvain Chomet’s much-delayed follow up to THE TRIPLETS OF BELLEVILLE/’03 is an odd duck, even for an uncategorizable animated film aimed at grown ups. Taken from a never-produced 40-yr-old script by Jacques Tati, France’s wry, anti-modernistic comic filmmaker, it’s a gloss on Chaplin’s LIMELIGHT/’52 (happily without the speechifying since Tati hardly speaks at all), that follows the declining career of a traveling Music Hall magician and the sweet-but-selfish young naïf who briefly latches on to him for affection and to escape her dead-end job. Moving from France to London, and then up thru Scotland, the film is a treat just to look at, with a few dazzling vistas opening up the largely intimate, slightly frustrating storyline. But it’s hard to mind the film’s limits, which honor Tati’s spirit & longueurs, as does the leading character, a kindly animated version of the great man that includes his practiced hesitations and heavy-treaded lurch thru portals of every manner. The film is a connoisseur’s piece, and a charmer.

DOUBLE-BILL: Just as Chaplin’s LIMELIGHT gains from knowing his earlier work, this film gets a leg up with a dose of Tati: 101. Chomet covertly suggests MON ONCLE/’58 with a glimpse of it in a movie theater. Good choice. Use it as prep.

MUD (2012)

A contemporary Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn find a new man-on-the-run in this belles-lettres thriller, the sophomore effort from writer/director Jeff Nichols. As in TAKE SHELTER/’11, the screenplay smells of college desk-drawers & short-story competitions, but he’s dropped the supernatural for this coming-of-age tale. In its place, Matthew McConaughey hides out on some deep-south islet, trying to lower an abandoned boat down from a tree (!) with the help of a couple of independent middle-school boys already coping with serious parental issues. Nichols is just loaded with filmmaking talents (great perfs, a daringly measured riverside pace, naturally dramatic use of spatial relationships), but he weighs himself down with symbols, surrogates & foreshadowing, as if producing Cliff Notes to go with his own story. When the climaxes show up, we’re so over-primed for snake bites, military sharp-shooters & home demolition, nothing makes an effect. Maybe he hoped to camouflage all the elements lifted straight out of SHANE/’53.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: After this and THE TREE OF LIFE/'11, young Tye Sheridan is in danger of becoming the go-to boy for tough sensitivity. But his scruffy pal, Jacob Lofland, displaying a dose of young River Phoenix in the Huck Finn part, leaves us with a bit of character mystery.

DOUBLE-BILL: Andrey Zvyagintsev’s astounding THE RETURN/’03 is a Russian film that takes no prisoners as it goes on the road with two boys and their non-surrogate father.

NANNERL, LA SOEUR DE MOZART / MOZART'S SISTER (2010)

For about half its length, this fictional account of the Mozart family’s Grand Journey thru the major European cities (around the time Wolfie was 10 and sis Nannerl 15) paints a believable and touching portrait of the mixture of pride & profit Papa Leopold got for his efforts. Of course, the real value lay in exposing his unfathomably gifted boy to the cultural & musical influences of the day. But as the film goes along, the temptation to stuff modern sensitivities/sensibilities on the action, with poor Nannerl fighting class & sexual battles two centuries before the fact, prove irresistible and drag everything down with it. The main non-family action involves a suggested romance between Nannerl & Le Dauphin of France, father of Louis XVI. Is there any factual basis in the idea? The birth/death dates alone make it seem unlikely. While any notion of Nannerl having a hand in Mozart’s early work is both silly & irrelevant since no important Mozart composition was penned when she was around. And if it never reaches the libelous (not to say ludicrous) intentions of Peter Shaffer’s AMADEUS/’84, the dramatic demands of political correctness make all the handsome period recreations more or less useless. (Just as the ‘natural’ candlelight photography makes too many interiors non-visible.) Not even the music, mostly non-Mozartean, comes to the rescue. Certainly not the schlurpy romantic harmonies they try to pass off as Nannerl’s gift to Le Dauphin.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT; READ ALL ABOUT IT; SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Some of Mozart’s most delightfully scatological letters were for Nannerl back in Salzburg, written as he toured Italy (with Papa) & France (with Mama) after she had ‘retired’ from their co-prodigy act. (Mozart’s mother died suddenly in Paris when he was about 16, and his tact and psychological insight in presenting the news to his father in two letters are as stunning as they are heartbreaking. See letters 106, 107 & 108 in the link.) http://www.gutenberg.org/files/5307/5307-h/5307-h.htm#link2H_4_0004 The fall off in the siblings once close relationship stems from Wolfgang's move of independence to Vienna and his subsequent marriage to Constanza Weber. A reaction in line with Papa Leopold’s general disapproval. If anywhere, that's where a workable, worthwhile story of Nannerl lies. There are many editions/translations of the letters; or go for Maynard Solomon’s excellent general bio MOZART: A LIFE. And there’s also Andre Previn’s 5-part video presentation: MOZART ON TOUR/’91. Much better handled than usual with these things.

THE ICE HARVEST (2007)

The smell of defeat is in the air (and on all the faces) right from the start of this non-starter, a late work from the more typically effervescent Harold Ramis.  A would-be Elmore Leonard tale of ineffectual swindlers, John Cusack’s the low-level mob lawyer who partners with Billy Bob Thornton’s strip club operator to skim a couple of million bucks from a shady client. What could go wrong? The first clue is in the credits. With script credit going to Richard Russo & Robert Benton, you have to assume that the writing/directing team of the superb uncategorizable NOBODY’S FOOL/’94, and its middling noirish follow-up TWILIGHT/’98, had their own plans for this, but couldn’t get it off the ground. Enter Ramis. It’s too self-conscious to take flight, though some grisly doings in the middle have a bit of remembered flair from early Joel & Ethan Coen. If only there was a fresh idea in the mix. As it stands, every time the lighting goes sultry for femme fatale Connie Nielsen, you wonder what audience demographic this could possibly play to.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: As Sidney Lumet showed in his swan song, BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU’RE DEAD/’07, there’s still life in this sort of thing. Or, you could see how the Coen’s breakthrough pic, BLOOD SIMPLE/’84 is holding up.

THE SILVER FLEET (1943)

It’s a surprise to find the iconic target logo of The Archers on a film not Written & Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger of RED SHOES/’48 fame. But this rousing whisper of a WWII pic finds them producing for yet another writing/directing team, Vernon Sewell & Gordon Wellesley. Contemporarily set in Nazi Occupied Holland, this emotionally clipped counterfeit traitor story follows shipyard owner/operator Ralph Richardson who plays Quisling for the Germans (taking it on the chin from the locals for doing so) while secretly reviving the spirit of Holland’s legendary national hero Piet Hein with various hidden acts of sabotage. The film gets off to a bumpy start, Sewell & Wellesley seem to be learning how to direct on the job, but they pull themselves together with the help of Archers talent like lenser Erwin Hillier and, especially, designer Alfred Junge. (A big set piece in the third act where a formal dinner party is raided by soldiers is quite imaginatively handled.) In any event, the story turns deeply satisfying while the level of acting goes thru the roof. Googie Withers & young Willem Akkerman are all the more effective for being so restrained as Richardson’s unquestioningly supportive wife & son; quite in opposition to the scenery-chewing Nazi crew led by Esmond Knight’s food slurping villain. But, naturally, the film belongs to Ralph Richardson who moves from strength to strength as silently as a cat, gleaning every bit of warmth, humor & courage off the page and onto the screen without giving his hand away. It’s the work of a master, far too subtle to join the award-worthy throng. (NOTE: The image on VCI’s DVD looks both over-processed & over-exposed, but is the only one out there.)

DOUBLE-BILL: One of the best WWII counterfeit traitor pics is . . . (wait for it) . . . THE COUNTERFEIT TRAITOR/’62 with solid perfs from William Holden & Lilli Palmer and pacey megging from . . . (wait for it) . . . George Seaton.

RENOIR (2012)

With its incessant golden-glow lighting scheme, picnic-worthy countryside settings and soft-soap epiphanies, Gilles Bourdos’s RENOIR feeds directly into the view of Impressionism as art for the comfy bourgeoisie. A (hopefully) discredited idea that ignores the movement’s original revolutionary impulse, blinded by its eventual triumphant popularity.* Precisely the wrong way to go about telling the story of aging master painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir; his WWI wounded son, future film director Jean; and Andrée Heuschling, the impossibly difficult girl they possessed as muse, respectively on canvas and in bed. There’s a natural curiosity in just seeing the Renoir household with its coven of fleshly female servants tending to an old, crippled man who can not stop painting. But every oh-so-authentic fact-based incident goes ‘splat,’ like the faux-Erik Satie soundtrack from Alexandre Desplat that gilds this hothouse lily.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: At one point, Jean projects a clip from Griffith’s INTOLERANCE/’16 (or possibly the revamped reduction, THE MOTHER AND THE LAW) even though it had yet to be shot, let alone released internationally. So, you might watch that. But for a look at what a strange, difficult, unknowable and largely unphotographable person the real Andrée Heuschling (aka Catherine Hessling) must have been, try Renoir’s fascinating silent film of Zola’s NANA/’26. A truly terrible actress, yet with a mesmerizing self-willed screen presence about her. The film is something of an astonishment.

READ ALL ABOUT IT: *Speaking of Zola . . . how lucky to have his L’OEUVRE/THE MASTERPIECE as a vivid reminder of early impressionist struggles as Paul Cézanne, Zola’s old friend who never forgave the great novelist for using him as model, starts the modernist movement.

CHRISTMAS IN JULY (1940)

After breaking the Hollywood barrier that kept writers from directing their own scripts (with THE GREAT McGINTY/’40, his uproarious take-no-prisoners political satire), Preston Sturges went straight on to this more modest charmer.  A chamber-piece compared to McGINTY, it occasionally shows its origins as an unproduced play, but once it gets going . . . look out!  The Sturgean unique wit & wisdom take off in language as intricately witty & specific as G. B. Shaw or Tom Stoppard.  This is a sweetly acerbic fable, with desk jockey Dick Powell hoping to leapfrog his way to success (and marriage to Ellen Drew) by winning a big radio contest.  But when a trio of office mates punk him with a gag telegram, and Powell believes he’s won the 25-thousand Grand Prize for his goofy coffee slogan, things quickly grow out of control.  These farces of misunderstanding can grow pretty darn tiresome pretty darn quick, but Sturges keeps switching gears on you, making decent types out of the usual villains and managing to run his plot without making everyone act as if they’re deaf, dumb & blind.  The expected gang of Sturges zanies are still in chrysalis, but the corporate execs & ethnically-mixed tenement neighbors generate plenty of laughs even in this pupa stage.   A shorter than usual running time helps, too.  No one overstays their welcome.   And Raymond Walburn, a Sturges regular usually confined to backup player, effectively moves front & center playing the Chief Coffee Baron, percolating with one priceless line reading after another.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Switching from McGINTY’s William Mellor to Victor Milner as lenser for this and for three future projects @ Paramount did a lot to increase Sturges’s emotional & romantic range.  But it was the great John Seitz (on SULLIVAN’S TRAVELS/’41; MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK/’44 and HAIL THE CONQUERING HERO/’44) who’d make Sturges-the-director as brilliantly original as Sturges-the-writer.