THE MAN WHO KILLED DON QUIXOTE (2018)

The answer is . . . writer/director Terry Gilliam.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Sad doings here. And after a two-and-a-half decade struggle to get something on screen. Instead, watch the true tragicomic backstory of Gilliam’s initial attempt in LOST IN LA MANCHA/’02. Below, a slightly revised repost:

‘This documentary on writer/director Terry Gilliam’s aborted Don Quixote pic proves that you really do make your own luck. For insurance purposes, a fiercely destructive hail storm and a star too ill to work ended things, but this show was never more than half a step ahead of disaster. Lack of funds, lack of planning, lack of technical expertise, lack of production coordination. The only thing not lacking: facile ideas from the ever fecund Mr. Gilliam. He’s loaded with ‘em; all bad. What little we see and hear is awful, particularly the proudly referenced central idea of having modern day Johnny Depp dropped back in time as a slim Sancho Panza to Jean Rochefort’s tottering Don Quixote. Even at his best, Gilliam always had trouble separating the wheat from the chaff, and this one's all chaff.’

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Critically & commercially, casualty rates on directors' Passion Projects as dire as The Battle of the Somme. Now pushing 80, will Gilliam ever direct again?

THE CROWD ROARS (1932)

Minor, but still valuable Howard Hawks, first of two with James Cagney (CEILING ZERO/’36 the other) had more than its share of late changes as a father/son race car story switched to dueling brothers (Cagney & a miscast Eric Linden) and leading gal pals Joan Blondell & Ann Dvorak (one sweet/one neurotic) swapped parts.* (This left top-billed Cagney & Blondell coupled with lower-billed Dvorak & Linden; Hollywood protocol be damned!) Cagney’s the cocky racing ace who takes kid brother Linden under his wing, making his taken-for-granted mistress (Dvorak) a jealous afterthought. She gets back by tossing Blondell at Linden to cause a wedge, but the new pair wind up a love match. Instead, it’s Cagney’s engineer, Frank McHugh, who lands in the middle, dying in a fiery crash that sends Cagney into a downward spiral. The script feels cut to the bone, missing pieces here & there. And while there’s some great (and terrifying) racing footage, the process work used to get our stars into the action is inconsistent at best, even for the period. Cagney pulls it all together anyway, his breakdown after returning to Dvorak a great moment. Plus, a great tag end as a pair of ambulances start an impromptu race to the hospital. It’s just that you want the film to be great . . . and it ain’t.

DOUBLE-BILL: *Hawks based this on THE BARKER, a father/son story with many similarities in a carny setting. Filmed very effectively by George Fitzmaurice in 1928 as a part-Talkie, with the Cagney/Linden/Dvorak/Blondell roles superbly handled by Milton Sills/Douglas Fairbanks Jr./Dorothy Mackaill/Betty Compson. Beautifully restored by UCLA, but good luck finding it!

THE LAST MILE (1959)

Static & easy to produce, this one-set ‘Death House’ prison-break drama was a star-making vehicle for Spencer Tracy on B’way and for Clark Gable on the road. (Preston Foster did the forgettable 1932 B-pic.) Three decades on and moldier than ever, it gets a second B-pic iteration, now with a snarling Mickey Rooney as ‘Killer’ Mears, the cell block tough guy who grabs opportunity by the neck (a prison guard’s neck) to escape the inevitable. Made quick & cheap by Howard W. Koch, the first two acts stick close to the play & to the warehouse cell setting, with what might as well be a Community Theater production. The cast, each with a little showpiece to play in their individual cell, go into overdrive as if trying to impress some imaginary Hollywood agent sitting out front. Slightly bizarre. The last act, which is the prison break (threats, squawk box communication, gun waving, cold-blooded murder, heavy breathing) turns far more conventional, with the play opened up for scenes happening outside the confines of the Death House. It’s ‘better’ filmmaking (think Quentin Tarantino ‘guilty pleasure’), but not nearly as interesting as the oddly abstracted earlier parts. Like we changed channels on the old Zenith television set during the commercial and landed on a climax of THE UNTOUCHABLES. Not such a bad idea. Some of those episodes were pretty good!

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Supposedly, toilets made a 1960 film debut in Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO. But here they are, one per cell, the year before.  Kudos to crappers!

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: Stick with the ‘mother’ of all Hollywood prison dramas, THE BIG HOUSE/’30, still strong, still effective, still tough as nails.

THE LONELINESS OF THE LONG DIStANCE RUNNER (1962)

The late-‘50s/early-‘60s New British Cinema (Angry Young Men; working-class sensibilities; social chip on the shoulder; ‘kitchen-sink’ realism hiding behind fashionable ‘New Wave’ camera idioms) hasn’t aged well. Its once vaunted honesty now looking as phony as the polished studio fare it was designed to blow up. And are they all directed by Tony Richardson? He must have been tiring of them, too; moving on to the fun, games & big time commercial success of TOM JONES/’63. But just before that, he made what now seems the best of the lot, a paradigm of the form, without the self-pitying/pre-deterministic edge of defeat that weighs so heavily elsewhere. With a semi-documentary style butting against occasional New Wave stylistic flair, the non-linear narrative jogs alongside Tom Courtenay’s wayward twenty-something delinquent, drifting thru bad relationships & petty crime after his father’s death and his mum’s fast turnaround with a new boyfriend. His potential as a runner, quickly spotted by Reformatory Head Michael Redgrave at the facility where he’s serving a sentence for robbery, offering a chance to lift himself up. But at what cost to Courtenay’s sense of self? And would a win at a track meet be a victory for him, or the school Head? Strong, thought-provoking stuff here, from Alan Sillitoe’s story & script, well caught in the drab beauty of Walter Lassally’s b&w lensing and in its pitch-perfect cast. Look for Edward & James Fox at the climactic race as ‘Public’ School competitors, and Alec McCowen, hopeful & painfully out-of-touch as a sympathetic counselor.

MURDER IN THE FLEET (1935)

The same producer, director, lenser & comic-relief team from the previous year’s DEATH ON THE DIAMOND with another B-pic murder mystery, now moved from professional baseball to U.S. Navy operations at sea. As directed by Edward Sedgwick, a bit more ambitious, a bit less effective, fumbling the mix of murder, sabotage, romance & comedy. Robert Taylor, just shy of his MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION breakthrough over at Universal, is the handsome young lieutenant tasked with overseeing a rush job on a secret new firing mechanism. Miss the installation deadline and the Navy loses exclusive rights! Anyone could purchase the contraption! But there’s a sniper on board the ship, slowing things down with his deadly aim. Yikes! Who could it be? A civilian visiting the ship? One of that Japanese delegation on an inspection? A disgruntled crew member or mechanical expert? A pretty good set up for suspense, plus gags from various romantic intrigues. (Script by John Ford favorite Frank ‘Spig’ Wead.) But Sedgwick proves all thumbs coordinating the rapid changes in tone or in finding atmosphere on the upper deck of a soundstage ship. He’s happiest overworking the romantic rivalry between his comic trio (Una Merkel, Nat Pendleon, Ted Healy) unaware how weirdly blasé ship’s captain Arthur Byron’s looks. Or is he the guilty party? Nah, my money’s on the great Mischa Auer as a very tall Japanese diplomat with Key Luke as assistant. The film less than the sum of its mismatched parts.

BEST FOOT FORWARD (1943)

Breezy little musical, a B’way transfer from the M-G-M Arthur Freed unit, about movie star Lucille Ball slumming at a Military Prep School Prom with a young cadet as a publicity stunt. Mayhem & mix-ups to follow. Pretty adorable at first (all those young academy boys & their dates, it's WWII HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL!) in spite of a so-so Hugh Martin/ Ralph Blane score* (‘Buckle Down, Winsocki!’ best known), but enthusiastically delivered in spiffy Big Band arrangements (Harry James playing at the prom) & sharply routined by dance director Charles Walters. It runs out of steam before it ends, but there’s good fun spotting fresh, debuting faces, many straight from the B’way run. Like June Allyson, Nancy Walker, most of the leading cadets (look for floppy-haired pal Kenny Bowers), and that ambitious chorus boy Stanley Donen, seen partnering Allyson in her ‘Barrel House’ dance number while behind the scenes, assisting Walters just as he had assisted Gene Kelly staging the dances when he appeared in the B’way show. And still a teenager! Lucy doesn’t get a lot to chew on, and is dubbed in her one song, but what a looker!, towering above the rest of the cast. Best of all, B’way afficionados get a rare shot a seeing classy B’way leading man William Gaxton, go-to star for the likes of Cole Porter, George Gershwin, Irving Berlin & Richard Rodgers over a long stage career, who hardly left a trace on film or records. Playing Ball’s slippery agent, he doesn’t get a song, but this middle-aged movie novice is amazingly expert up there. Too bad Bob Hope & Bing Crosby took all his big B’way roles in the movies.

DOUBLE-BILL: Freed figured out the Rah-Rah college musical three years later when he got debuting scripters Betty Comden & Adolph Green to remake GOOD NEWS as a fond ‘20s period piece.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Next year, Martin & Blane partnered for Freed on MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS. That’s ‘partnered’ since this team didn’t actually collaborate, working on songs separately but publishing as a duo. Sounds odd until you remember that’s also how Lennon/McCartney did it in Beatles’ days.

CASANOVA BROWN (1944)

Nunnally Johnson rewrote this thrice-filmed romantic comedy (on B’way in 1929 with co-author/star Thomas Mitchell) as a light vehicle for Gary Cooper, looking for a comic change of pace after dying in two of his last three pics. Each a heavy hitting smash of two-plus hours. Here, Coop juggles three putative brides in 94 minutes when his upcoming wedding to Anita Louise is disrupted by news of a little girl, his little girl, just born to his ‘ex,’ Teresa Wright. (A marriage quickly annulled after he burnt down the family manse. Don’t ask.) Learning the infant is going up for adoption, he dashes to the hospital, kidnaps the child, even proposes to a sympathetic nurse in case he needs a wife to complete the transaction. While a big hit at the time, the laughs, like so many a Hollywood farce, now come off as forced & labored, especially in the first act (that house fire!), with more than its fair share of ‘funny’ miscommunications needed to keep the plot moving. That said, you’d be hard put to find a more charming group of players (Coop’s underplaying a huge relief), while the look of thing, thanks to lighting cameraman John F. Seitz, is quite unlike romantic comedies of the period. Director Sam Wood, a useful technician without much style of his own, depended on designers (like William Cameron Menzies in OUR TOWN/’40 and KINGS ROW/’42) or strong cinematographers (like this film’s John Seitz) for visual interest. And here, Seitz tosses aside expected proscenium-based views for dramatic setups & angles, abetted by a driving pace that lends weight to ridiculous situations. It turns more conventional in the last act, all those plot & character resolutions, but the formal look of the earlier parts is quite striking.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Seitz, who made his bones in silents with director Rex Ingram, was also responsible at this time for transforming the film techniques of writers-turned-directors Preston Sturges & Billy Wilder. (MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK/’43 and DOUBLE INDEMNITY/’44 among the results.)

BLONDIE OF THE FOLLIES (1932)

Infamous as showgirl turned mistress/film star under newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst, and famously misrepresented in CITIZEN KANE as a talent-free lush, the real Marion Davies is now recognized by most critics as a naturally gifted comedian too often forced into ill-suited dramatic roles. Hearst couldn’t bear seeing her take pratfalls and had the cash & clout (for a while) to push her on the public as a great tragedian. At least, that’s current critical consensus. Truth is, she wasn’t much of a comedienne either. Even lighter roles played like a game of charades with Marion pulling face, more good sport/good-time gal than comic actress.* Not so here. Just this once, in a largely dramatic role laced with comic trimmings, she lives up to the role of a lifetime . . . her lifetime. Developed as slum-rags-to-uppercrust-riches by Frances Marion & dialogued in laughs, tears & showbiz camaraderie by Anita Loos, it reflects something of the real Davies as a one time working-class daughter raised to the heights of Prohibition Manhattan Cocktail Society, a blonde follies girl wooed & won by rich playboy Robert Montgomery, coping badly with ‘this thing called love,’ as Cole Porter put it. Running away from a tenement homelife; guided by Billie Dove as the best pal (and maybe a bit more?) who cleared the showbiz path ahead only to find herself overtaken by this blonde upstart; well helmed and strongly cast by Edmund Goulding (check out those one-take family scenes in the tenement apartment). With Davies still looking young & pretty at 35 (she's superbly lit by cameraman George Barnes), balancing jokes, drinks & tragedy without guying the material. Even the artificial moments feel grounded.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *A lot of Davies’ positive critical rehabilitation tied to guilt over the KANE portrayal.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: As Davies’ on-stage dancing partners, that’s the world famous Rocky Twins, famous androgynous beauties from Norway in their one-and-only film appearance.

A LIFE IN THE BALANCE (1955)

Promising, but inadequately worked out B-pic, handsomely shot on nighttime locations in Mexico City (using all Mexican tech below-the-line) for 20th/Fox’s lowball Panorama shingle. Ricardo Montalban (very hunky in a white-T) stars as an unemployed, single dad, a would-be musician, hoping to roust up the cash to buy his 10-yr-old son the guitar he’s promised. But soon after his nosy neighbors overhear him raising cash from an old flame, the woman is murdered by on-the-prowl serial killer Lee Marvin. All this seen by Montalban’s kid who’s up on the apartment roof for tonight’s fireworks. Hearing the neighbors finger his dad to the cops for the crime, he’s around to spot the real murderer, and follows him over a long night in hope of clearing his father. Meanwhile, Dad’s also spending the night out, buying that guitar at a pawn shop and romancing local pickup Anne Bancroft. (Anne Bancroft?) Eventually, police home in on Montalban just as Marvin, elsewhere in the city, spots the kid tailing him and starts up a most unlikely friendship. There’s real dramatic potential in all the crisscross relationships, and suspense as the cops move in. If only director Harry Horner, better known as an Oscar-winning art director, could handle his cast, fix bad lines & straighten out dumb story beats. (That’s all?) Still, worth a look as blueprint for a better film and for its darkly stylish lensing of unusual Mexico City locations.*

DOUBLE-BILL: The most interesting angle in the film is Marvin’s need for friendship with the kid. An idea nicely developed by Clint Eastwood & Kevin Costner in A PERFECT WORLD/’93.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *That darkly stylish lensing is wonderfully lit by . . . whom? There’s no credit for cinematographer, but I’m guessing Gabriel Figueroa, Mexico’s greatest lighting cameraman, perhaps working off-the-books while under contract elsewhere.