Black and White: Cinema and Chocolate

A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929)

2011-12-21T01:05:00.004Z

A prisoner escapes from Dartmoor prison. The guards look for him. They go to a cottage near by, where they believe he is headed to. Then, in one of the great transitions to a flashback, using intertitles as both a cut and spoken words, we are told what has happened. And what we are told is one of the swansongs of (British) silent cinema, one that keeps you hooked, and certainly one of my favourites.

Director Anthony Asquith's reputation has been defined by his sound films, seen too often as film versions of well-made plays, in particular those of Terence Rattigan. This is unfair for two reasons: the first is that the films themselves are sometimes quite good ("Pygmalion", "The Importance of Being Earnest", "The Browning Version"); and the second is that it neglects his four silent features. Recently, both "A Cottage on Dartmoor" and "Underground" have been restored by the BFI, made available on DVD (or will soon) and reassessed for the wonderful works that they are. Of course, “A Cottage on Dartmoor” is a dreadful title, which probably hasn't helped – suggesting too much an idyllic England and very little going on the screen. And what goes on the screen feels, to modern audiences anyway, more like Hitchcock than theatre. Asquith's use of effects, camera angles and photography, borrowing a bit from German expressionism, is both confident and original.

The film is full of wonderful little moments - the suggestion to see a talkie (oh, the irony...); the sequence at the cinema; the lost card that was supposed to come with the flowers; and above all the reality and regrets of relationships, in one of cinema's most honest moments - for once, we get to see what really goes on after the "happily ever after". Asquith's direction is certain but it also benefits from a great script and an astonishing trio of leads (one Swede, one British, one German), in particular Uno Henning (as the barber). I definitely think I'll try to see more of his work.

To finish, I should mention something about the actual screening (well, actually two things). One is that I saw this a few months ago, and the post is based on notes I did at the time: reality has been biting and time to blog has not been much. So if I don't make full justice to the film, is because I saw it over three months ago. The second thing, is that, like most silent film screenings, this one had a live piano accompaniment, this one by Stephen Horne, who provided one of the best accompaniments of a silent film I have had the chance to listen to and certainly enhanced my experience of the film.

Man's Castle (1933)

2011-12-17T20:40:00.008Z

Frank Borzage's "Man's Castle" is, like a few of his other films, the story of two misfits (in this case, Spencer Tracy and Loretta Young) whose love brings a hitherto unknown depth to their lives. Yes, this sounds incredibly pretentious, but the films are usually better than they sound. And "Man's Castle" really has a lot of fans out there, some who consider it one of the director's best film, if not the best. Borzage is a director that can as easily engage me as well as leave completely cold. In the first category are the Margaret Sullavan MGMs, "Mannequin", "Desire" and the first 70 minutes of "7th Heaven"; in the second, the rest of "7th Heaven", "The Spanish Main" and "Strange Cargo" (which I really, really, really hated, but that's another story). "Man's Castle" lies somewhere in the middle. With so much praise going around, I really wanted to like it. Alas, its gender politics and misplaced over-romantism really got on my nerves.

Borzage had a tendency to idealise the world in his films, his characters inhabiting something slightly nobler than the world that surrounds them. But in "7th Heaven" he pulls it off, creating a self-contained world, where two almost magical beings live (Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell, both possessing an ethereal quality, also shared by Margaret Sullavan in the MGM films) and a medium (silent film) that help it all work. "Man's Castle" on the other hand, belongs to the hard world of the Depression: poverty, shanty towns, unemployment, hunger, alcoholism, crime, are all here. Not a place where for ethereal characters, clearly not helped by the casting of Spencer Tracy, one of the most earth-bound actors ever. But it was Loretta Young's character "look at me, I'm making a home now" that lost me entirely. She spends most of the film washing, cooking or taking care of the house for a man that is hardly ever there and when he is, is not exactly the most engaging of partners, wishing clearly he was somewhere else. This idea that all a woman wants is a man that might leave her at any moment and a stove is something that sent several shivers down my spine - when she said she'd give up her baby if that would make him happy, I cringed.

There are some positives as well - the opening sequences are quite good (perhaps Young is too clean and composed for someone with nowhere to live, but I put that down to 1930s Hollywood) and got my attention. Spencer Tracy and Loretta Young do a wonderful job of what is, in my opinion, a very flawed script, Tracy in particular. The supporting cast, lead by Glenda Farrell and Walter Connolly are excellent, although Arthur Hohl overdoes the sliminess from time to time. Finally, as a Pre-code title, there's plenty of sexual innuendo as expected (mostly cortesy of Ms Farrell, while trying to seduce Tracy) and an out-of-wedlock baby.

Precious (2009) poster

2011-09-12T00:54:00.004+01:00

Another example of a Saul Bass inspired poster. I am yet to see "Precious", but from what I know of it, the poster gets the main message spot on. I hadn't see the poster before, which I suspect is the US one, but it came up on a search of Saul Bass images.

La Piel que Habito (2011)

2011-08-30T22:54:00.005+01:00

Two years ago, when "Los Abrazos Rotos" came out, I wrote that it could be the beginning of new phase in Almodóvar's career. Having seen his latest film, "La Piel que Habito" I saw nothing that contradicted me. The most obvious, are the absence of his trademark random strange characters (again, no transexuals, no drag queens, although there is a surrogate mother) and the colour palette which has toned down the reds and oranges that intoxicated "La Mala Educación" and "Volver".

I'm still at odds on how much I liked it. In some ways it is an honourable failure, but it kept me interested, even if the first twist was predictable way too soon (partly from the way it's shot and introduced). It is well acted, and the cast, with the exception of the actor playing Vicente and the attemps of Brazilian accents, are very good. The three leads are excellent (I never noticed the leading lady before despite having seen a few films with her). Almodóvar has, I think, admitted the debt he owes to "Les yeux sans visage" ("Eyes without a Face") rather obvious from the iconic mask in the poster but I also picked "Vertigo" (more to that later), the Argentinean film "El Secreto de sus Ojos" (a scene that rhymed with that film's ending), Almodóvar's own "Átame!" and something else that I couldn't identify.

In a house in Toledo, a surgeon (Antonio Banderas) has been testing a new type of artificial skin, one which is strong enough to resist burnings. His guinea pig is a beautiful woman (Elena Anaya) - but who is she and why is he been keeping her prisoner? This is a film which I feel very hard to write about without giving a lot of the plot away - so please consider this a spoiler warning, as I will give most of it away.

While the film's beginning is fairly straightforward, is the second act (the two flashbacks) that make it truly fascinating. The flashbacks are meant to explain to us how and why things have happened. They present a truly dark vision on human nature: whereas the first act could be read partly as a case of Stockholm's Syndrome, the second adds to it a whole new dimension. We now have a rapist being punished by the victim's father (and later raped by the man who started the whole cycle of death and violence) and a much more disturbing case of Pygmalion-like Stockholm's Syndrome. It is also a case of "Vertigo"-like necrophilia, where Banderas's character recreates his dead wife in his prey. And just going a step back, it is interesting how the key moment of the film, the second rape scene, relies heavily on the viewer's perception of the characters involved more than on anything shown. The young man (under the influence of recreational drugs) has no idea that the girl is taking for a walk is incapable of giving consent (or even of understanding sex, as she is just an overgrown child). As the final act starts, we move from sexual politics and a dark thriller, and it crashes down into a convencional ending that reaffirms life and preaches that art can save your soul. I am not so sure if was the ending to expect for such a necrophiliac work - Almodóvar seemed to have lacked Hitchcock's courage.

I like to make two final brief poins: First, the true connection to Brazil isn't explained, but that's just bad editing or writing). Unless the connection is Vera Cruz, the name of Anaya's character - meaning True Cross, it was the original of Brazil. Second, I quite like the unexplored aspect of the bioethics of the film, but sadly that is kept to a small scene where Banderas argues why he should play God.
PS - there are some Spanish posters for the film (like the one just above) which are definitely worth a look.

Gilda (1946)

2011-08-19T21:14:00.003+01:00

How to start talking about “Gilda” without mentioning Rita Hayworth? Is it possible? I considered it for a moment and quickly gave up. Actors and actress that achieve legend status often they get there with a unique part or a unique moment. For Rita Hayworth, it was “Gilda”. Watch the film and try to take your eyes from her, I dare you. She’s mesmerising – even if the part, the script and her own acting ability leave a lot to be desired.

In Buenos Aires, Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford), a gambler, forges a friendship with the owner of a casino (Ballin Mundson, played by George Macready) and becomes his right hand man (and possibly more, but let’s go there in a moment). One day, after a business trip, Macready returns suddenly married (i.e. Hays code for a new mistress) to Gilda (Hayworth), a woman from Johnny’s past.

Up to the moment Hayworth makes her unforgettable entrance (known to most people these days as the old film clip in “The Shawshank Redemption”), the two men’s relationship exudes homoeroticism – their initial encounter is staged as a pick-up with, if memory doesn’t betray me, Ford lighting Macready’s cigarette (it could be the other way around). Later on, Gilda reinforces this by saying that Johnny is pretty (I don't think that's meant as a simple compliment). But after she walks in, the balance of the relationships is changed. Ballin is now obsessed with Gilda. And Gilda, it turns out, is still in love with Johnny despite what happened in the past and is dying to get him into her bed (she claims the marriage was done on rebound from him). Johnny on the other hand keeps obsessing about Ballin, shielding him from the truth about his wife (she seems to be very fond of the opposite sex) and showing an ingrained misogyny which is shown full blast against her. Jealousy does come to mind.

Until the last ten minutes this surreal, convoluted but rather engaging story works thanks mostly to Hayworth and Ford. However, in the last ten minutes the Hays code kicks in. I remembered the general ending from years ago, but I was rather surprised how little it resembles the rest of the film. Suddenly all is resolved (and quickly), as if touched by a magic wand (And spoiler alert now…): Rita has always been pure (yes, really…); Glenn was never really a misogynist and just loved her; the villain is punished and there is a general happy ending, including a return to home (the US). Yeah, it’s really that bad. More interesting is the fact that throughout the film, the voice over (Johnny's), narrating after the fact, does not seem to be aware how the story will end, and shows the desdain he feels for the woman he ends with. I don’t really object to the happy ending per se, but rather how it unfolds. It is rushed, leaving me feeling it was last minute affair to finish something no one really knew how to end. More important, we never know what happened between the two leads, so why are we asked to believe that they will work over it?

Hayworth aside, the film’s other mesmerising features are Rudolph Mate’s unforgettable cinematography, full of shades and contrasts, unique framings and clearly one of the key moments of film noir imagery; and the iconic strip-tease scene when Hayworth sings (dubbed, I think) and dances to the sound of “Put the blame on Mame”.

PS - I don't particularly like the original poster, so I chose these. However, it's worth noting the mistake in the last one - the film is attributed to King Vidor, rather than Charles Vidor... someone needed to pay a bit more attention.

Raúl Ruiz (1941-2011)

2011-08-19T19:22:00.003+01:00

Raúl Ruiz (or Raoul Ruiz if you prefer the French spelling) died today. I only saw two of his films, "Le Temps Retrouvé" (1999) and "Mistérios de Lisboa" (2010, poster above). I liked both without loving them, but since the second is a major adaptation of the work of a Portuguese writer, Camilo Castelo Branco, shot in Portugal and with a Portuguese cast, I realised I could not but pay homage to him. After all, he has managed to make this XIX century novel a small success in XXI century France. Obrigado.

Margaret Tyzack (1931-2011)

2011-06-28T11:27:00.001+01:00

She was amazing as Claudius' mother Antonia in "I, Claudius" and got to see her at least twice on stage - although I missed her in "The Chalk Garden" (for which she won an Olivier), I got to see her in "Phèdre" along Helen Mirren.

I haven't seen that much of her elsewhere (there was also a "Miss Marple" BBC adaptation) but wherever she was, she was a pleasure to watch.

Sleeping Beauty (1959)

2011-05-30T13:25:00.001+01:00

Animation is something I quite enjoy and I probably should have included something here sometime ago. The Disney 50 season that the BFI is showing throughout the year was meant to act as a catalyst and “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” was meant to be the first post back. Unfortunately, time and motivation (and even subject matter) have been lacking in the last few months, often all at the same time and thus the blog has been a bit less active that it should have. So, instead of having the first animated feature film, I decided to have one of my favourites, “Sleeping Beauty”.

I am perfectly aware that this film is dismissed by some as inferior to “Snow White…” and “Cinderella” or simply described as an honourable failure. I have always disagreed and after watching all three in a short period of time, I still prefer it. The gender politics of “Snow White…” are a bit too 1930s for my taste and “Cinderella”, despite a certain amount of sarcasm from the heroine, drags a bit too much at times, particularly in the ball sequence, or those with the king. "Sleeping Beauty" on the other hand has a much better pace, particularly in the second half, from the moment where the fairies and the princess return to the castle - people talk about Bambi's mother, but my biggest childhood Disney-induced trauma was probably Malificent's movement of the robe to reveal the sleeping Aurora. The battle sequences are great cinema and still very effective, even if they used the rotoscope a tad too obviously, and I am also a bit partial to the stylized look of the film, inspired by medieaval art.

Of course, "Sleeping Beauty" doesn't appear out of nowhere in the Disney cannon - the fairies are indeed not so distant relatives to the dwarfs in "Snow White..." and like them work wonderfully as comic reliefs; there are a lot of irritating dancing animals (who ever found these cute?); Aurora is not exactly a feminist role model and although not as bad as Snow White, Cinderella had more personality. And then there's Malificent - that astonishing character that runs away with the film. It is this character that beats both films - she's both deadlier and sharper than the Evil Queen or Lady Tremaine (the same actress voices Malificent). She oozes sarcasm throughout the film - my favourite is the description of what she'll do to Prince Phillip and how she'll release him... eventually...
But it's interesting as well, that while drawing from both these films, it was to "Sleeping Beauty" that the Disney animators paid homage in the late 1980s, early 1990s when of the Disney renaissance: in "The Little Mermaid", the final confrontation between Ursula and Eric and Ariel has some echos of the battle and the final sequence in "Beauty and the Beast" is clearly inspired by the ending of this film.

One more thing that shouldn't happen in a cinema

2011-05-14T00:22:00.002+01:00

Showing a Technicolor cartoon (a Disney Silly Symphony, to be more precise) in a black and white copy. I wonder who made that decision... ("Birds in the Spring" shown before "Sleeping Beauty", last night at the BFI)

Battleship Potemkin (1925)

2011-05-10T23:41:00.000+01:00

While I am mildly curious about propaganda films, I confess I never really went out of my way to watch them – the exceptions being some animations produced during WWII, particularly the “Private Snafu” cartoons and Disney’s superb “Education for Death”. If they are done properly, as the latter is, they become powerful tools, but they can still hold on their own merits. I have shown it to several people, who, slightly expecting something Disney-esque were truly surprised and shocked. On the other hand, if they are badly done, and often they are, they become clunky - independently if you agree or disagree with its politics.

Fortunately for me, Sergei Eisenstein’s “Battleship Potemkin” fell in the first category. And of course, not just for me. It is one of the most influential films of all time – not only the incredible amount of homages and parodies of prams going down long magestic stairs, but also the editing style of the whole sequence of the Odessa steps, the film’s most powerful and celebrated sequence: the faceless soldiers, the horror of the faces, the cuts, the masses, all used incredibly effective to recreate, in the most emotional possible way, the panic and oppression of tsarist Russia. And by the way, that is a fictional event, although I have no doubt inspired by many other real ones.

The film recalls the events of the mutiny of the crew of the Potemkin, ignited by the poor conditions on board and the brutality of the officers, while stationed nearby the port of Odessa. At only 70 minutes, the film commands your attention from the start. There aren’t many superfluous moments – it’s not just because of the Odessa steps sequence this is considered one of the great examples of the art of film editing. The build-up to the ending is a good example too – especially if, as I, you have (had) absolutely no knowledge how the whole episode ended.

Contrary to what I was expecting, the cast isn’t full of demonic looking actors to play the antagonists. Most officers look either the same or more human than some of the sailors – or the people in the steps, for that matter. This makes them harder to hate them at first, but then the hate becomes almost rational – you can justify it: it’s purely their actions that condemn them. (There is one exception, the ship’s priest, who clearly looks insanely evil). Thus, whether you believe in communism or not, you side with the sailors, as our empathy will automatic go to those unfairly oppressed and in the most communist element of the whole film – while you don’t care for a particular character, as they are very much anonymous (with one or two exceptions), you do care for them as whole.

Pearls before Swine for film buffs

2011-03-30T20:51:00.002+01:00

I am not like this, but I still have fun spotting Hitch in his films, even when I know where he is.

Jezebel (1938)

2011-03-25T21:39:00.006Z

“Jezebel” is undoubtedly the most important film in Bette Davis’ career. I don’t think it’s her best and it’s not my favourite of hers (although is probably in my top ten), and is so much an attempt to cash on “Gone with the Wind” that it is very hard to judge it without reference Scarlett O’Hara. But it is one of her best performances and one that would make her one of the great bitches ever to grace the screen. Up to this, Davis had raised from a starlet into a promising young actress. The previous year (1937), WB placed her in four films that showed she was becoming a valuable commodity. Yet, it was only in the hands of William Wyler, the first director who really got her to show us, the audience, her full potential, that she learned to control herself for better effect. It won her a second Oscar and the rest is history.

Co-written by John Huston, the film boasts a crew selected among the best of WB’s technicians – cinematographer Ernest Haller, composer Max Steiner and costume designer Orry-Kelly, just to name a few. This was a major production, one that represented a change of direction in the WB output – up to “Jezebel” this had been a studio dominated by men like Cagney, Robinson and Flynn, where the women were as hard as any of them (Davis, Blondell, Stanwyck, Dvorak, Kay Francis) or decorative objects. The only exception, somewhere in the middle, was Olivia de Havilland’s pairings with Flynn. The films were tough and quickly, often cheaply made. Over the next few years, however, prestige productions gained momentum including a string aimed at women, most often led by Bette herself (de Havilland got a couple towards the end of the war).

The remaining cast is also worth looking at: Henry Fonda (before his own stardom with the John Ford films); George Brent; Donald Crisp; Margaret Lindsay; Spring Byington and especially Fay Baiter who, defeated by Davis at the Oscars as best actress, deservedly took home the best supporting actress one.

The film tells the story of a spoiled southern belle, Julie, who, to spite Preston, her fiancée (Henry Fonda) and since she thinks herself above all rules (“This is 1852 dumplin', 1852, not the Dark Ages.”), she decides to wear a red dress to a ball – when she was meant to wear white, the colour of choice of unmarried girls. As a result he teaches her lesson, humiliating her in public, showing that actions have consequences and breaks off the engagement, departing to Boston. A year later he comes back, married and to what turns out to be an outbreak of yellow fever. Unfortunately for every one involved, Julie still hasn’t fully learned her lesson.

This is a film full of wonderful moments – the subjective shots of the cane (ok, there’s a technical name but I am too lazy to look for it); at the ball, when we get the full extent of what’s happening (accompanied by a wonderful “twist” in Steiner’s waltz); Davis’ whole facial range in the sequence where she meets Fonda after his return (Fay Bainter’s expressions in the porch just before, while I am at it); Bainter’s defeated exit in the background; Julie as a Madonna and Preston as Christ in the end. There is also strong hints that Fay Bainter’s character was somehow like Julie in her youth and that she’s now paying the price (spinsterhood), and that maybe, the man she lost (or wasn’t allowed to get) was Donald Crisp’s idealistic doctor.

Part of course is Wyler, part is the wonderful Ernest Haller, but this being WB, I was wondering if there isn’t a bit of Curtiz’s influence in last act of the film, when things turn darker. Of course, there are some silly moments as well, like the mosquito scene at the plantation, which hits you with an off key note at the piano.

I like the ending, but somehow I am less convinced by the appearance of self-sacrifice than I am meant to. (Note: some spoilers coming…) Throughout the whole film, Julie behaved like a spoiled brat (actually, a bitch) but she now offers herself to follow Pres to the island to nurse him back to health (or more likely to die with him). Her reason, she states, is to clean herself from her sins (in particular, orchestrating the duel that ended with Brent’s Buck Cantrell’s death). Despite the pietà imagery of the last shot, all she wants is to be with him at last – and if she can’t have him in life, she’ll have him in death. Of course, this is a much darker interpretation, and one the Hays Office might not have been terribly happy with.

The film has of course, one major aspect of controversy for modern audiences – the depiction of slavery. None of the black characters in the film have much depth, with perhaps the odd moment of Julie’s butler conversation with Preston. This of course is usual 1930s fare. What really bugs me is that the red dress that causes such offence, is not only the dress of a prostitute, but is also coveted by Julie’s personal maid (a slave, obviously).

At the Oscars, the film got three other nominations: for best film, cinematography and score (not “best original score” though, although I don’t understand the difference). It should have won the last two clearly (Korngold won the “best original score” category). As for best film, considering that “La Grande Illusion” (I know, French, so it would never win) and “The Adventures of Robin Hood” were in the race, I’d rather have either getting it. In the end all three lost to Frank Capra’s mediocre “You Can’t Take it with You”. Wyler, the script and the art direction weren’t even nominated and costume design wasn’t yet a category.

Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011)

2011-03-23T22:37:00.005Z

She was never a personal favourite and after “Cleopatra” she developed a style of acting that consisted mostly of shouting around (“Boom” being a case in point). She denied Shirley MacLaine a much deserved Oscar for “The Apartment”, although she fully deserved her humanitarian award for raising awareness for AIDS before it was fashionable.

Yet, for “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, “Suddenly, Last Summer” and “Cleopatra” she has a place in my affections.

And in “A Place in the Sun” and pretty much every film she made in the 1950s she was one of the most beautiful women ever to grace the silver screen.

John Barry (1933 - 2011)

2011-01-31T11:05:00.002Z

One of the truly greats of film music has died. His legacy will for ever be Bond, but personally, I will forever remember him for his amazing scores to "Hanover Square"'; "Somewhere in Time" (a terrible thing that does not deserve his exquisite score); "Body Heat"; "Chaplin"; "Enigma" (his last and not very well known score) and his masterpiece, "Out of Africa" for which he deservedly won one of his 5 Oscars (the others being for the scores of "Born Free", "The Lion in the Winter", "Dances with Wolves" and best song for "Born Free").

I know he hadn't done a score since 2001, but now I know he will never do one again. As a film lover, the loss is astonishing.

My Fair Lady (1964)

2011-01-20T21:18:00.003Z

After I watched George Cukor’s “My Fair Lady” on the big screen for the first time I was more than ever convinced that I should watch as many old films at the cinema as possible. It was an amazing experience – for the first time I was noticing details I couldn’t see on TV: minor changes in expressions and details in the costumes and decors, including the wall paper details. This was a film designed to fill screens that were bigger than ones at the average multiplex – and it shows: the film has loads of long and medium shots that showcase these elements. Far from being obsessive fan behaviour, it actually helped me understand in today’s shrinking cinema screens what might have been to experience a film in the grand theatres of the 1930s – I would love to see something half decent at the Radio City Music Hall in NY (which hardly shows films these days) if I ever go there again.

Thanks to the BFI ongoing Audrey Hepburn season I got the chance to see it projected again. It’s interesting to consider the film history in her career – from something tainted from her casting over Julie Andrews (who originated the role on Broadway) to being the most loved of all her films. It’s sadly not a full performance, as the dubbing robs us its full impact of her Eliza, despite Marni Nixon’s very good Audrey inflections. (There are two songs with her audio on the WB DVD, which I think were created from multiple takes but leave me wanting for more. On the other hand I also heard some really weak takes).

Another major criticism generally made is that she’s never a flower girl. I think Audrey the myth works against her – hardly anyone can go there without knowing her in Givenchy, not the dress of choice of cockneys in Victorian London. Personally I think she’s not half as bad as all that. Moreover, I don’t think she’s less convincing than most actresses who would have been considered for the part in 1964. And do people really believe that Julie Andrews’ flower girl be more realistic in what really is a piece of stylization? Andrews’ singing would of course be astonishing, as can be proved by listening to the original Broadway Cast Recording and personally, my favourite Eliza is Wendy Hiller. Of course, as time went on, and Audrey became less of an actress and more of a deity (I like the actress, but I am not willing to idolize her) the whole polemic died down and this became the great opus in her career. However, watching the film again I was mesmerized not by her, but by Rex Harrison who, on each new viewing, has becoming my favourite thing in the film.

I’m not going to bother anyone by telling the film’s storyline – It’s pretty much on public domain. What I am going to do – and this might shock some people – is explain why I actually like the film versions (whether musical or not) far more than I like Shaw’s play. The play is a satire on the British status quo from both ends: on one hand, the upper classes kept the lower classes uneducated for their advantage; and on the other, it highlights the position of women in society, and how the higher up they were the tighter the corset of options was so that in the end they could trade in themselves – or as Somerset Maugham put it, they became “prostitutes who do not deliver the goods”. There is no romance other than a minor hint of infatuation, and in the printed versions Shaw writes the most depressing of epilogues on how he expects Eliza to end. My problem with Shaw is that he seems to write plays only as a vehicle to his politics – which works brilliantly on paper but less so on stage. The worst offender among the four or five plays of his I saw staged were the last twenty minutes of “Major Barbara” where the characters preach endlessly to the audience. “Pygmalion” is not as bad but it still drags immensely at times. The worst example in both this and the musical is Eliza’s father, Alfred P. Doolittle (yes, that name…). Since the first time I saw the film more years ago than I remember, and afterwards read and saw the play, I keep wondering what is the point of the character from a dramatic point of view. Yes, I understand why he is there from Shaw’s perspective – his is another finger being pointed at the audience – but dramatically, well, I can’t stand him.

The films cut all that fat to the minimum but the satire is there (although they keep Doolittle) – in “My Fair Lady”, listen to the words to “Why Can’t the English” (very Shavian) or look for the confrontation between Eliza and Higgins, when she tells him that in Covent Garden she’d sell flowers, not herself. I admit I am a romantic at heart, and I really like the romantic element of the film. I like to think that Eliza and Higgins will, somehow, find a balance in their relationship – maybe not marry, maybe strictly platonic – but still something that allows the two of them to find something in the other.

Along with Hepburn and Harrison, the third key player in the film is not Cukor but rather Cecil Beaton. His work here won him deservedly two of the film’s 8 Oscars (Cukor also got one) for his costumes and decors. Higgins house feels incredibly real, as much as Ascot is made belief. However, he made one huge mistake – and I taking the director’s cue here: Eliza’s dress in the Ascot is way too magnificent for the scene. It should have been an oppressive dress that highlighted the discomfort of her situation. Instead, it’s the best known of her dresses and makes her evening dress look poor by comparison – which should never be!

Finally, a hitherto unnoticed bit of Britishness in the film that made me smile. When Doolittle goes to Higgins house, Stanley Holloway, the actor, makes a rather rude but very English gesture involving two fingers. I am pretty sure that was only allowed because it I suspect most American audiences were not aware of its meaning (I wasn’t until I came to the UK).

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957)

2010-12-25T21:32:00.006Z

I started Frank Tashlin's "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?" hesitantly. I finished it bitterly disappointed. In between, I laughed a lot. So what went wrong? Well, my initial reaction is very easy to explain - Frank Tashlin. As a Looney Tunes' director he was never my favourite and I didn't care much for "The Girl Can't Help It" when I watched it a few years ago, albeit some good cartoony moments. I just never warmed to it. Since it starts the same leading lady (Jayne Mansfield) and a similar leading man (Tony Randall here; Tom Ewell in "The Girl...") I hope you can see where I was standing.
"Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?" was a different kettle of fish. It was funny from the start, smart, mixing effortlessly George Axelrod witticism with Tashlin's visual humour. A satire on television, celebrity and the film and advertising industries that hasn't lost its bite and gelled perfectly with my sense of humour. Of course some of the gags are better if you know the context - the intermission Tony Randall presents is a delight, but becomes extra caustic if you realise in 1957 film was loosing the war to television - plus is Rita Marlowe (Mansfield's character) that much different from the current flavour of the moment? True, some now need strange outfits instead of "oh so kissable lips", but it's the same thing.

The film benefits from the great cast: a perfectly cast Tony Randall (his career was mainly on US TV before I was born and therefore unknown to me); the ever magnificent Joan Blondell, who should have appeared more; Hitchcock's favourite John Williams as the stiff head of the advertising agency and Betsy Drake as the jilted (and jealous) girlfriend. I was less convinced by Jayne Mansfield. True, the part doesn't demand that much of her, but take Marilyn in "The Seven Year Itch" (adapted from another Axelrod play) and see what the part required. Both are blond objects of desire placed at the touch of an average man. But Marilyn had a stupendous comic timing and Mansfield not so. The scenes with Randall when she aims to seduce him are too long and feel like a distraction from the really good bits of the film. Still, she manages not produce any major damage.

The great disappointment is the ending (Grouch Marx's cameo aside) or rather the long ellipse that omits how everyone ended as they did (the actual ending was fine). It thought it lazy and that Tashlin (who wrote the script) had finally ran out of ideas. I felt denied the climax the film had been building to, where all the pairs would be rearranged and the natural order of things would be restored. A real pity, considering how smoothly everything went till then.

Blake Edwards (1922 - 2010)

2010-12-17T00:56:00.004Z

Blake Edwards will forever be the man who directed "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and the Pink Panther films, but my favourites are "The Days of Wine and Roses" with Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick, both superb; and the gorgeous, funny and I think, underrated, "Victor Victoria" (or maybe I just have a soft spot for it) with Julie Andrews. He was also married to the leading lady.

He got an honorary Academy Award a few years ago and got is sole nomination for the screenplay of "Victor, Victoria". As such, the trailer below for your pleasure - and mine too.

When Frank met Barbara IV: The Bitter Tea of General Yen (1933)

2010-12-11T19:02:00.007Z

The final film in this series is, to me, the most interesting and arguably the best. In contemporary China, the fiancée of a missionary finds herself the houseguest of General Yen, a ruthless warlord who is in love with her. Despite herself (and more on this in a moment) she finds she is falling for him. As I mentioned here, this is a film that could not have been made two years later. A mixed race relationship, where one of the elements is a “decent white girl” was far more than the conservative audiences of the 1930s were willing to allow – and it became explicitly forbidden.

Capra directed the film with Oscar success in mind and to ensure recognition of quality by his peers. But it shouldn't have taken him much to realise that the film would not be a hit at the box-office. Despite appearances, the film is (for 1933) on General Yen’s side and quite unsympathetic of white people (Walter Connolly’s Jones, the general’s “financial adviser” comes as particularly unpleasant). The missionaries are presented as prejudiced creatures (not exactly very christian), unwilling to see China beyond their own preconceived ideas. Their lack of interest in the country is openly criticised by Yen, who despite being ruthless, is also a sophisticated character and a lover of fine things. In a sense, he is not quite a Bond villain in the making, like Fu Manchu – While we aren’t given any historical background to the civil unrest (probably audiences would be mildly aware) I strongly suspect that he is not just fighting for power and money; he is also fighting for his own survival - as indeed the film hints at. By the end, our sympathies lay with the character we are told from the start is the enemy.

Of course, not all is perfect – although most of the Chinese characters and extras are played by people of far eastern ancestry, the main part itself is played by Nils Ashter, a Swede. Interestingly, his overpowering presence works in favour of the character and probably made the film acceptable at the time of release (after all, under all the make-up there was a white actor).

Stanwyck’s character, a young American girl called Megan (pronounced Mee-gan, which I found quite strange) starts not terribly far from Alden Pyne in Graham Greene’s “The Quiet American” – dangerously idealist. Of course, she does not have his resources and, unlike him, she gives in. From the moment she sees General Yen, she’s fascinated, but feels rejected (metaphorically quite well represented by a handkerchief). Then despite herself she finds herself more and more attracted to him – although this time she’s the one rejecting his advances – and his handkerchief. In what is the best sequence in the film (and quite explicit too), in her dreams she admits the truth: as she is about to be raped by a Fu Manchu type when at last moment she is saved by a masked hero – however, when he takes off her mask, it’s not her fiancé…

In the end, we are treated to a speculative speech by Walter Connolly – and in Stawyck’s face (she doesn’t say a word, nor does she really need to) we know that his words are really the epilogue. It’s not Capra’s best film, it might not even be one of his most touching – but it is one that is worth looking beyond 1933 and 2010 prejudices.

When Frank met Barbara III: Forbidden (1932)

2010-12-07T19:02:00.001Z

When I saw “Forbidden” for the first time, I think in the London Film Festival a few years ago, I wasn’t particularly impressed. When I saw it there again, it was second time lucky. And probably would have like it better if I hadn’t spent half of the screening trying to remember which film it remind me of – in the end I realise it was Edmund Goulding’s “The Trespasser” (1929) with Gloria Swanson which he remade in 1937 with Bette Davis as “That Certain Woman”, two examples of heavy handed melodramas. Goulding would do much better for instance in “The Old Maid” or that supreme soap-opera that is “The Great Lie”. Capra’s straight storytelling skills and lack of tendency for melodrama actually suited the script well – it tones it down, creating some pathos to the characters that otherwise would have just been sinking in excess.

These same characters, while well handled, that are also the strangest element of the film. This is the story of a librarian (Stanwyck, of course) who spends her savings on a holiday cruise to Havana. On the boat she meets and falls in love with a man (Adolph Menjou), and they start a life long affair – you see, he’s married to an “invalid” (i.e. she wears a cane…) and worst, he has political ambitions. While I have no problem empathising with characters who repress themselves out of duty (e.g. “Brief Encounter”) there is something not quite right with the leading character’s obsessive love with Menjou’s. For him, she gives up everything despite the fact he does not give her anything in return and won’t let her go (she tries a few times). In fact, he goes further, taking things from her. In part this feels like 19th Century romanticism taken to extremes, but really is more like an essay on the effects of a sudden release of sexual and emotional repression exploding in the hands the first person who releases it.

More appealing is Ralph Bellamy’s workaholic news editor with a crush on Stanwyck. His is an ambiguous character that has a personal vendetta for Menjou’s which you aren’t entirely on what is really based on (for all intents Menjou is not a corrupt politician and Stanwyck is his only skeleton in the closet).

Capra’s work throughout is almost unnoticeable, thus showing off his skills to keep the pace and retain our attention, focusing on the key moments of the relationship. It’s the script that ends up being the most unsympathetic to its own characters. After torturing Stanwyck for 80 odd minutes, the film ends in the harshest of ways. I assume the idea was not to leave a dry eye in the house, but it’s too bleak for that – you just end engulfed in the black hole that her character’s emotions have become.

When Frank met Barbara II: The Miracle Woman (1931)

2010-12-03T19:01:00.002Z

After “Ladies of Leisure”, the next Capra/Stanwyck was “The Miracle Woman”, the story of a minister’s daughter who, after her father’s death, becomes an evangelic preacher. With the help of a crook, she swindles her followers until she meets a blind veteran (David Manners) whose life she had unknowingly saved.

Clearly an attack on hypocritical evangelic preachers to whom money is the only religion, the film hasn’t had a very successful story. It’s easy to see why it was a flop at the time of release – for 1931 this is quite an attack on the moral hypocrisy, not only of those preaching, but also those seating in the benches (the opening sequence is quite a good example). However, modern audiences probably agree with me that the film doesn’t go far enough. Capra and the script probably toned down the original material as Stanwyck’s character is actually a profoundly religious person, with a deep faith, only going astray through a general disappointment with Mankind – in the end, she resumes the path of virtue and through fire, all is purified.

The film is also hampered by a weak ending that is in effect a huge ellipse: it’s too clean, avoiding any real answers – I mean, how did they all get out of that mess? Did the police never bothered to investigate anything?

On the plus side, despite some excesses in the opening sequence (and I think it may have been this, and not “Forgiven” I mentioned here) the performances are excellent, especially David Manners’. He’s extremely good as an unsentimentalised blind man: self-sufficient, resourceful and definitely not wallowing in self-pity. His suicidal tendencies are more the frustration of not being able to succeed at something (we are clearly told that money is not a problem). I am not sure what to think of the dummy though. The other highlight is Beryl Mercer, as the motherly landlady.

Overall, of all the four films, this is the one who disappointed me the most. It had enough to be an absolute classic, but instead, Capra’s lack of conviction on his attack deliver us a disappointment with some good moments and performances.

Missing, most wanted

2010-11-30T22:47:00.005Z

Every (most?) classic film fans will, at some stage or another, find themselves wishing they could see a film considered lost. Common ones include Tod Browning's "London After Midnight" starring Lon Chaney or Murnau's "4 Devils", both available reconstructed approximations using stills - most lost films don't even have that. Others like "Sadie Thompson" with Gloria Swanson survive in trucated forms, in this particular case nearly complete, but on the other hand only one reel has been found of "The Divine Woman" with Garbo (there areother instances where only small fragments survive). Occasionally, miracles happen - the Gloria Swanson/Valentino only pairing "Beyond the Rocks" was found in the early 2000s and more recently, the nearly complete director's cut of "Metropolis".

And of course there are versions of films which were never released, like Orson Welles' cut of "The Magnificient Ambersons" which I think would top anyone's most wanted list. Although even in this department miracles do happen, as the 2004 finding of the pre-release cut of "Baby Face" now available on the "Forbidden Hollywood vol 1" DVD set (not holding my breath for "Ambersons" though).

So, which one is mine? Well, it's an infamous WB Pre-code comedy called (yes, you've guessed it...) "Convention City" starring Joan Blondell, Mary Astor, Adolph Menjou and an array of other familiar faces of the studio. This is possibly the last major production of a Hollywood studio to be lost. After the Hays Code was fully enforced it remained mostly in the vaults (although it has been shown somewhere in the US in 1937). It has since gained a reputation of being too daring even within Pre-Code limits (I doubt it can be "worst" than "Baby Face"...). A full background can be found in this thread here. Because it did had a proper release there is hope it one day may resurface, even if it's in a truncated copy. My fingers are crossed. Yet, do I really believe that it will live to my expections? Honestly, no. It was probably as memorable or as forgetable as most of the comedies produced by WB between 1930 and 1934 - but I certainly wish I had the chance to see it.

When Frank met Barbara I: Ladies of Leisure (1930)

2010-11-26T18:59:00.003Z

Once upon a time a young, fast rising director met a young actress from Brooklyn with only the smallest number of films under her belt. Four years, four films and a failed love affair later, they were both established names – Frank Capra and Barbara Stanwyck. The films were: “Ladies of Leisure” (1930), “The Miracle Woman” (1931), “Forbidden” (1932) and “The Bitter Tea of General Yen” (1933). A few years later, in the early 1940s they would collaborate for the final time, in “Meet John Doe”.

The current Frank Capra retrospective at the BFI has given the chance to watch these four films (I am excluding “Meet John Doe”) in a short period of time. I had seen all but “Ladies of Leisure” and own the UK R2 DVDs of both “The Miracle Woman” and “The Bitter Tea of General Yen”. I went through these with a fairly open mind and found myself re-evaluating them for the better (I had discussed some of them here and here). My only regret was not able to see them chronologically – although that’s how I will present them here, starting with the first, “Ladies of Leisure”.

The film tells the story of the relationship between a rich boy who wants to be an artist and party girl (an euphemism for something else) he chooses to be his model for a painting personifying “Hope”. This is clearly the moment in Stanwyck’s career where you can shout “a Star is born!” – have no doubt, it’s her film (aided by the fact that the rest of the cast has largely been forgotten). And it almost didn’t happen – the actress’ first meeting with the director didn’t go very well.

A Pre-code through and through, not much is left to the imagination. Stanwyck’s occupation and that of her flatmate are more than just hinted (actually almost stated), and her character seems at ease with it, at times being quite explicit she has no issues with what she does. It’s also clear that there is some off-screen fun without the blessing of wholly matrimony. Despite this, the film is less sharp around the edges than the output of Warner Bros., where Stanwyck also spent some time during the early 1930s. The focus is more on the romance between the leads and less on the bleakness of life (e.g. “Baby Face” just to stick with another Stanwyck film). Interestingly, the leading man doesn’t seem to mind very much that the object of his affections has a past, something that Columbia would explore from a different angle in “Virtue”. Furthermore, the inevitable scene between the girl and the family doesn’t follow exactly the same template of such scenes where “good” families try to get rid of what they perceive as less “good” heroines (e.g. “Shopworn”).

There are two more moments in the film that I would like to point out. Unfortunately I can’t talk about them without revealing some of the plot. So consider this your spoiler warning. The first is the sequence in the artist’s studio, when she’s forced to spend the night in the couch. At some stage we see the door open. She hears it and knows he’s coming. We see him coming closer. We know she is in love with him, and as such she would like him to be different than the others (i.e. put a little ring around her finger). For a few seconds Capra teases us and makes us wonder what is going to happen. It’s a great sequence extremely well edited and a sort of rehearsal for the final sequence. Extremely well shot and edited, the final minutes of the film have a rhythm and suspense unusual in those very first years of sound. Plus, to be honest I wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to end, which is always a plus.

The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945)

2010-11-20T21:09:00.004Z

After watching Robert Siodmark's "The Strange Afair of Uncle Harry" I looked around online - there seems to be a general consensus that this is a very good film with the most disappointing ending. I am not at all surprised, as I totally agree. However, I think that most people don't realise is that the original ending of the play would not be allowed. It's true that other options could have allowed some of the spirit of the source material, but this way we almost have it. And watching the film, you can certainly spot what has been added (so you can always stop the film a few minutes before the end card).
All that said, the film is definitely worth a look. George Sanders is the emasculated last heir of an old family that has lost all its money in the depression. He has been forced to work to support himself and two sisters, one a widow (played by Angela Lansbury's mother, Moyna MacGill) and the other, the youngest, an "invalid" (Geraldine Fitzgerald). When a NY company representative (Ella Rains) arrives in town he promptly falls for her and asks her to marry him. While one sister is happy, the other manages to undermine their relationship. When she succeeds in breaking the couple up, something Harry snaps.

The story is, until the very moment, exceptionally good, with good character characterization and the ability of draw you to it. And Siodmark (who following this would make "The Spiral Staircase", the exceptional "The Killers" and one my favourite Olivia de Havilland films' "The Dark Mirror") knows exactly how to create tension: the overbearingness of Geraldine Fitzgerald's conservatory; the release that Ella Rains represents; a wonderful shot of a fallen cup followed by a close-up of Fitzgerald's face. And he gets to take the best out of his cast. If we ignore Ella Rains entirely forgettable performance, the actors are astonishing. The three siblings and Sara Allgood as their maid are fantastic. George Sanders manages to go from meak to determined in a very subtle and believable way; and Moyna MacGill's confrontations with Geraldine Fitzgerald are full of sibling rivalry. But this is Fitzgerald's film. She's twisted, double faced, manipulative, hints at incestuous desires and she has fun with it. Her final scene with Sanders she proves him that whatever happened, she won.

I wish the original ending had been kept, or that the film might have been made in the UK where I suspect the censors might just about get things past (or maybe I am being optimistic). However, in the great world of messed-up Hollywood endings, it's neither alone, nor is it the worst one ever.

Turnabout (1940)

2010-11-10T00:25:00.001Z

When I wrote about “Love Me Tonight” I mentioned how much better the film would be if only it had different leads. I now found a companion piece, Hal Roach’s “Turnabout”. This largely forgotten film, released in 1940, was shown as part of the London Film Festival’s “Treasures from the Archives” section. To be entirely honest, I had never heard of the film until I saw the programme. It caught my attention as it had Mary Astor in the cast, and that usually is rewarding (and was, but more of that in a moment).

The film tells a story of a couple (a health-obsessed advertiser and his lady-who-lunches wife) who switch bodies when they agree that they would like to step into each other’s shoes – being the first time they agree on something the wish is granted. Both actors, Carole Landis and John Hubbard, were altogether unknown to me and going through their filmography I hardly recognised any title. And from what I saw, it came as no surprise.

The leads’ main problem is that they are, to put it mildly, extremely irritating. There is clearly no chemistry between them, and they just left me wonder what did each saw in the other. They’re also a source of uncomfortable humour when they switch bodies. Playing on easy laughs, John Hubbard is camper than a drag queen (and far more effeminate than his wife, if that makes sense) although he does imitate some of her facial expressions well – we are certainly miles away from Dustin Hoffman’s superb Tootsie. It also pushes credibility a bit too much: how many women, finding themselves in a man's body would go around carrying a handbag? Carole Landis is a bit better but not much more. Both characters behave as if oblivious to the fact they changed bodies. Script logic holes like this only sem to reinforce the film's sole point - don't try to change your life; be content - and if you're a woman, remember, you're frivolous and of no consequence and your real place is in the home.

On the other hand the film is filled of an amazing cast of supporting actors, all of them excellent. Adolph Menjou (who gets top billing although he’s the third lead) and Mary Astor, as Hubbard's main business partner and his bitchy wife steal the show, as you’d expect from actors of that quality. But you also have Donald Meek, Marjorie Main, Franklin Pangborn and a few others familiar faces who manage to salvage as much as possible of the film.

I was impressed with the ending of the film, which is a bit risqué (apparently it and some other scenes were controversial with the censors) and with the mention, during the film’s introduction, of a scene not in the film but in the novel – the rape of the husband in the wife’s body by the wife in the husband’s body. Wonder if they would touch that scene today…

Still the biggest laughs came, not from the film itself, but from something else. While restoring the film the archivists found the original introduction, interval and closing to film’s first TV presentation. Because these were shot on film, they decided to incorporate them into this screening, as it was shown in 1951 on American TV, sponsored by Schlitz, “the beer that made Milwaukee famous”. And since 1950s TV adverts have not aged very well, they are hilarious.

It Happened One Night (1934)

2010-11-05T00:26:00.002Z

When I was much younger and getting into classic films I often fell in love with the Frank Capra’s films I had a chance to see, i.e. those from the mid-1930s to the mid-1940s (roughly from “Lady for a Day” to “It’s a Wonderful Life”). As I grew older, and more cynical, I found that my taste changed, and I grew further apart from his films (I have changed my mind again on one or two). There were, however, some exceptions: “Mr Smith Goes to Washington”; “Arsenic and Old Lace” which has to be the less-Capraesque of all his films and, of course, “It Happened One Night”.

Like “Arsenic and Old Lace”, “It Happened One Night” seems to be far from his bolder social statements. Yes, there is some criticism of the upper classes, but nothing that is too distracting. Instead the focus is really in the war of the sexes love story between a spoiled heiress (Claudette Colbert) and a fast talking and recently unemployed reported (Clark Gable) while travelling from Miami to New York.

While this indeed one of the great romantic comedies ever made, after watching it I was able to put it in context in a way I hadn’t before. For the past few years I became more and more familiar with silent and Pre-code films, as this blog attests. So while before my film knowledge really started at around 1934, now it goes much further back. And this allowed me to see the film in an altogether different light.

Suddenly I fully understand why this is a cornerstone film. Perhaps its key achievement is how subtly different in construction is from its contemporary comedies. Unlike many other comedies from the early 1930s, for instance, the WB comedies with the likes of Joan Blondell or James Cagney or Lubitsch’s films at Paramount, this is a milder affair – both sexually and verbally. Yes, there are clear innuendos and dialogue flies, but comparing that with Howard Hawks’ “Twentieth Century” (along which is credited as the first important screwball comedy) it’s tame. But this apparent loss is actually to the film’s gain. The story is told in less fragmented manner, more coherently. This approach allowed the characters to develop, instead of being one or two dimensional creatures and would be the template on how Hollywood treated comedy until the end of WWII. And yes, for the following few years, spoiled heiresses would keep falling in love with wisecracks and witty dialogue would attempt to reveal the sexual tension that could not be properly shown, thus creating what is known as “screwball comedy”.

In case you haven’t seen the film, I think I should mention that Colbert and Gable are excellent, both giving career high performances and both, like Capra, collecting Oscars – making this the first of only three films to win the five main awards: film, director, actor, actress and screenplay. Gable’s performance is probably the most relaxed I have ever seen him on screen. Oh yes, and that end scene that brought the house down with laughter...

The Match King (1932)

2010-10-31T15:11:00.005Z

"The Match King" is possibly one of the best examples of WB's "torn from the headlines" film making policy and factory style production. It was based on the life of Ivan Kreuger, a Swedish industrialist who at some stage controlled most of the world's match production. Kreuger killed himself on 12 March 1932 after his financial empire collapsed. On 31 December 1932, the film opened. Just over 9 months - I was left wondering if it was a record...

In the film, Kreuger becomes Paul Kroll, a very unscrupulous business man and a swindler. Warren William is possibly the only actor in the 1930s who could do oily and charming at the same time, and here, like in earlier "Skyscrapers' Souls" and later "Employees' Entrance" (my favourite of the three, I should add), he excels. In fact, the three films seem to almost form a trilogy of Pre-code Great Business critique that resonates oh so well today. The film is very much centred around his leading man. William has most of the on-screen time and it is really his performance that carries the film through. These three films should have been released long ago as part of the "Forbidden Hollywood" DVD series which WB seems to have either killed or put on hold for the foreseable future (which is a pity since I absolutely loved it).

The women in Kroll's life are many but the actresses are not household names, and to be honest I didn't recognised any of their faces. Most of them weren't memorable or lasted particularly long onscreen. There were two exceptions. One was Glenda Farrell, in her bit part days, who I obviously recognised from her later films. The second was Lili Damita, a French actress who finished her film career by 1937, who managed to be the great love of the Match King. However, the performance was dull and uninspired, and I suspect I won't remember her face for long. The only other main cast members I recognised were Hardie Albright, who played the lemon faced boyfriend of Claudette Colbert in "Three-Cornered Moon" and Harold Huber, as Scarlatti, who appeared towards the end of the film. On a blink-and-you'll-miss-them note, Alan Hale appears in one scene.

The film's pace is fast, as you'd come to expect from a Pre-code WB film. This is a bit uneven, as the story unravels too quickly at times and too slow at others (the love story), focusing too much at some stage in the romantic aspect rather than the main story line. Of course, at speed these films were made, the scripts were seldom polished and here it clearly shows, which is a pity.

I was lucky enough to see the film in beautiful new print taken from the original negative by the Library of Congress during the London Film Festival. I sincerely hope more people get that chance soon.

Stanwyck in noir III: Double Indemnity (1944)

2010-10-10T21:06:00.005+01:00

"Double Indemnity" was Billy Wilder's third American film and perhaps his most ambitious project of the 1940s. It's among his best and has endured critical and public acclaim since its release. It was adapted by Wilder himself and Raymond Chandler (rather than Wilder's usual collaborator Charles Brackett who decided he didn't like the subject matter) from James M. Cain's novella of the same title. It is also one of key film noir titles, from before the term was coined.

It tells the tale of Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) insurance salesman, who involved sexually (more than romantically) with Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck), is manipulated by her into murdering her husband so she claim an accident insurance on his death. Interestingly, I don't consider this a spoiler, as less than five minutes into the film we know that Neff has "killed a man for money - and a woman - and [he] didn't get the money and [he] didn't get the woman." The suspense comes from the "how did he end there", not from the ending itself. From the opening shot when you realise something is not quite right with Neff, to a car that doesn't start at a key point, all tension is very Hitchcockian - although I am not sure how much of an influence Hitchcock himself was, as this is still ahead of his great American films of the mid-1940s and 1950s. On the other hand, the film's voice over is decidedly not Hitchcockian and links very well to Wilder's own "Sunset Blvd." and anticipates a trademark feature of film noir.

The film is full of Wilder's touch - witty, quick dialogue; very close male relationships; and one of my favourites, pulling one on the censors. The film contains one of most obvious post-coital scenes produced under the Hays Code (MacMurray smoking, Stanwyck composing her lipstick). I have wondered how it passed, and the only thing I can think of is that the voice over reassures us that all they did was embrace (yeah, right...)

As Phyllis, Barbara Stanwyck gives the screen one of the most poisonous characters it has ever seen. She's absolutely ruthless and manipulative, using sex to get what she wants (Neff, and later on I suspect another character was also seduced). Stanwyck's ability to pull it off is uncanny - she's a cheap and yet desirable black widow who hardly ever shows any emotion. Look at her eyes. The moment MacMurray turns away they harden. It's one of two true emotions we ever get from her - contempt. The other is the almost smile during the amazing murder scene (happening off stage) when Wilder has his camera stuck on her stony face.

Fred MacMurray was an interesting casting decision. A seriously underrated actor, as he occasionally showed us, up to that point he had only been a leading ladies' leading man, supporting the likes of Carole Lombard, Claudette Colbert, Marlene Dietrich or even Stanwyck herself as required. Here Wilder gave him a character with few redeeming features that still charms the hell out of you. It's also one of MacMurray's best performances, along with "There's Always Tomorrow" (again with Stanwyck) and "The Apartment" (again with Wilder). He shines through the film - from his original lust (their first scene together is amazing), through the planning, till the final confrontation. Interestingly, Wilder would do a similar casting against type with Ray Milland, Paramount's other leading ladies' leading man, the following year which got him an Oscar.

The third character in this dark triangle is Edward G. Robinson's Keyes as Neff's office mentor and father figure who ends being the reason of their downfall. Robinson was undoubtably one of the most versatile actors at WB in the 1930s, a full leading man who was more of a character actor. Like MacMurray and Stanwyck he seems so at ease in his (almost supporting) part that you forget he's acting.

The film got seven Oscar nominations: best film, best director, best screenplay, best actress, best sound, best soundtrack (Miklós Rózsa) and John F. Seitz's highly influential cinematography (I think it's in Cameron Crowe's interview book with Wilder where he describes how Seitz would spread something to give that dust through venetian blinds look). It lost them all. Ingrid Bergman beat Stanwyck and Seitz lost to Joseph LaShelle's exquisite work in "Laura" ( who later became Wilder's collaborator). In one of those mysteries the Academy is so good at, "Going My Way" got all the important ones. And to add insult to injury, MacMurray, Robinson and the excellent art direction were completely ignored.

The Palm Beach Story (1942)

2010-09-13T20:28:00.002+01:00

Much has been said on Preston Sturges’ amazing run of films at Paramount during the early 1940s. While I could not finish “Christmas in July” and “The Great Moment” is an awkward thing that was reassembled by the studio, the other six are astonishing satires (I am still in awe that “The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek” ever passed the censors), although I confess that I never have completely fallen for “Sullivan’s Travels”’.

“The Palm Beach Story” is the fifth in the run, and my second favourite after “The Lady Eve”. It stars Claudette Colbert and Joel McCrea as a married couple. The film starts with their wedding over the opening credits and then forwards five years – by now they are flooded by debts. When by chance they clear them, Colbert decides to get a divorce to give her husband a chance in life and to find a millionaire than can take care of her. Of course, he doesn’t really agree with his plan, so she goes to Palm Beach meeting millionaire Rudy Vallee and his sister Mary Astor.

Colbert is a tour de force and it’s a pity that Sturges didn’t use her again. She was so at ease in the sophisticated romantic comedy Paramount made into an art form that she doesn’t get enough credit for it. What I hadn’t fully noticed before was Mary Astor’s exquisite performance as the man eater Princess Centimillia. Obsessed with men, and finding Joel McCrea ideally suitable to be her next husband, she desperately tries to get rid of her current “entertainment” who insists he should stick around. While McCrea and Vallee are good, they really can't compete.

An interesting aspect of the film is that Colbert and McCrea clearly have a healthy sex life. Since they are married and never actually divorce, Sturges got away with far more than he otherwise would. Although apparently he had to tone down Mary Astor’s character lust, reducing the number of her marriages from eight to three, plus two annulments. As if that would make that much difference.

The very end is a bit frustrating and feels a bit of an easy solution out – the opening sequence that helps explain is, probably purposely, not very clear. If had to point out a fault in the film, that would be my choice.

Stamboul Quest (1934)

2010-09-09T20:45:00.000+01:00

For the first 20 minutes or so, “Stamboul Train” is quite a promising film. Myrna Loy is the Fräulein Doktor, the most important female spy working for Germany during World War I. And then George Brent appears – in fairness to him, it’s not (entirely) his fault; it’s his character and what he stands for. Falling in love at first sight with Loy, he proceeds to follow her across Europe to Istanbul and interfering with her mission simply because he’s “in love with her”. I really hate this ill-conceived idea that a man is all that is necessary for a woman to fulfil herself, even if that means putting her own country at risk – and recently several films I have seen emphasise this premise (“Lady in the Dark”, “More than a Secretary” also with Brent and “They All Kissed the Bride”). For contrast, having finished a short 19th Century Portuguese novel where the main character fulfils herself through work, refusing to get married, was somewhat refreshing.

But back to the film and what it is its main problem: the script. This looks the most routine of routine jobs – I’d go as far as wonder if this wasn’t conceived as a B picture and got changed as it developed. Or maybe it didn't change at all - this was release only a couple of months after "The Thin Man" and "Manhattan Melodrama". It’s not just Brent’s character that is a cardboard cutout, there’s also a badly explained ending, tying in with the first scene (the film is a shown to us in flashback, without no apparent reason). So what started so well, goes on, and on, constantly finding a new low until it hits rock bottom at the very end.

The film has an interesting connection with Mata Hari – and more the Garbo film than the actual story. It winks at the audience referring to the plot of the early film. The two films (both produced by MGM) would overlap in the “real” timescale. This, and Loy’s performance before Brent follows her to Istanbul, are two of the main interest points of the film. A third aspect of interest is the openness about Loy’s sexual behaviour which is surprisingly not toned down: if IMDb is correct the film was released two weeks after the enforcement of the Hays Code.

Metropolis (1927)

2010-09-02T19:33:00.001+01:00

Where should I start on this one? Perhaps with my personal history with the film – I saw it around 2002 or 2003 in Bristol, at the Arnolfini. If you ever sat there before refurbishment (never went there afterwards) you’d probably remember how uncomfortable the seats were. Add to the mix that I wasn’t very versed in silent cinema and have an intense dislike of parables. So, despite its reputation, “Metropolis” then had little chances of engaging me. I think I saw the 2001 restoration, with photos and intertitles explaining the missing footage. This was the best approximation to Lang’s cut available then. Nevertheless, I was very excited when the news of the original cut being found reached me. Proof that miracles do happen.

So I went to UK premiere at the BFI – which is far less glamorous than it sounds, as it was just an ordinary screening at the NFT1. And if at first the cuts were minimal (they are easy to spot), suddenly whole sequences appeared out of nowhere, developing characters further and giving the film a rhythm that it I thought it lacked before. While the storyline is the same as the version I saw, the fact that I had images rather than text meant that the action made more sense. It also meant that the religiousness of it all become more diluted, which in turn highlighted the social aspect of it. The missing sequences also increase the story’s tension as the Thin Man, previously no more than a bit player, is now a menacing character pursuing Joh and Josaphat (another character who now appears much more developed). Josaphat also became an intriguing character, and some people might pick up on this as the cut becomes better known and studied, in that he seems to be infatuated by the hero (who seems to be oblivious). It still isn’t a complete print. There was too much damage in one or two sections which could not be restored, but I can live with it – I better do, miracles do not tend to strike the same place twice.

As for the film itself, my highlight is Brigitte Helm in her incarnation as the robot. Her body language, the way she moves, the way she almost winks at Fredersen, so different from her other character as the heroine. Plus her dancing routine as the the new Babylon is so weird and funny (and the faces of the men watching it) that is priceless.

So now I like “Metropolis”. I still cringe at moments – the banality of the philosophy in it and some of the silent film style of overacting – but I don’t think it matters. Even if I hated it, a near complete print of a film that is loved by millions and has influenced countless artists since, has been recovered to our common heritage. This is one the happiest endings in cinema history.

Lady in the Dark (1944)

2010-08-29T20:53:00.003+01:00

The first word that comes to mind to describe "Lady in the Dark" is odd. So odd, that by the end of it I can't say if it's good, bad or more likely, something in between. It's the story of Liza Elliott (Ginger Rogers), a magazine editor, that suddenly feels so overwhelmed by everything that she is persuaded to see a psychologist. It's adapted from a Broadway musical by Kurt Weill and Ira Gershwin, but it the adaptation reduces the musical numbers to three key dream sequences, playing much as a straight drama with musical moments. The film actually handles the psychology bit in a surprising modern way - and the whole process is far more believable than in "Spellbound" for instance - with the psychologist emphasing it's a slow process and showing some ethics, although there is still a lot of pop psychology (the "motive" behind all of Rogers' problems is a bit unintentionally funny).

I got the film in an Italian 6 film boxset dedicated to director Mitchell Leisen. While the other 5 were good black and white transfers, including "Remember the Night", this is an altogether different matter. It is presented in a faded Technicolor print with burnt in Italian subtitles - skin colours are a bit too greenish and several shades of dull brown and duller orange replace everything from red to yellow, including Ginger Rogers' blond hair. The reason for this, as far as I could tell from the cover, is that the film is in public domain in Italy (not sure how that works, as it's under copyright everywhere else). It's a pity as the film got an Oscar nomination for its colour cinematography.
The film's oddness comes from the fact that something (which I can't quite put my finger on) and some things don't quite work. One is the character and the casting of the leading man, in this case Ray Milland. Milland plays an advertising executive working for Rogers so unpleasantly and with such gusto that by the end I really couldn't stand him. Misogynists remarks about Rogers being a man (or eventually a lesbian, which amounts to same in 1940s cinema, but can be "cured"). It's a tough part which would need someone like Cary Grant, who could be unpleasant and appealing at the same time (e.g. "Notorious"). Of course, as much as I like him, Leisen was no Hitchcock. Ginger Rogers is ok, as is most of the cast (which includes Warner Baxter), but not memorable. Her best moment is when she realises she's not interested in the second banana. Hers is the face of someone to whom the obvious just became, well, obvious.

Another thing that didn't quite work for me were the musical numbers. They aren't bad, but they seem out-of-place and, and this may be entirely the copy I saw, they look cheap. Actually most of the sets suffered a similar fate.

Finally, this belongs to a line of films that I don't particularly like: the woman executive that all she really wants is a big strong man to take care of her and the soon she realises that the better for everyone (a particular bad example is "June Bride"). Rosalind Russell made career in the 1940s out of this, including in Leisen's own "Take a Letter, Darling". To a lesser extent, Leisen's "No Time for Love" with Claudette Colbert belongs to same strain, and perhaps its no coincidence that these were the two films preceding "Lady ..." - which to be honest is the weakest of the three. However, and this is where the "odd" comes in, the ending is not (at least to my eyes) as straightforward as it appears. (And now spoiler alert!) A few moments before the final shot, Milland's character seems to be taken control of everything much to the delight of his boss. This is even made clear as he sits on her chair and she falls into the floor. But then, he stands up (while talking) and they seem to be ending in collaboration, rather than competition, and both standing, suggesting that they both recognise each other's strengths while admitting they need the other. While for Milland's character this completely out of the blue, it still made it (for me, at least) a rewarding ending.

Despite all its shortfalls, the film held my attention, so it's obviously not all bad. Rogers's character is still a strong woman, who by the end has decided (in my eyes, anyway) she doesn't need to give up anything to have her man. And as an curious aside, it has one of the most obvious gay characters in 1940s who makes no apology for who he is. Leisen (himself gay) probably got away with this because a) it is set in a women's magazine and b) the character is a photographer.

!!!... Pierrot by Carlos Bonvalot (1916)

2010-08-28T03:19:00.000+01:00

I stumbled into this painting recently and loved it. I think I may actually have seen it (it's part of the collection of the Museu do Chiado in Lisbon) but as often in life, timing is all. More interestingly, was the fact that I never heard of the painter, Carlos Bonvalot.

Image taken from here.

The Big Parade (1925)

2010-08-24T00:07:00.003+01:00

I think it's near impossible to imagine the reaction of contemporary audiences to King Vidor's 1925 film "The Big Parade". WWI finished in 1918 and seven years later the events were very much alive in the memories of those who fought or lost loved ones. In the countries that were in the war, nearly everyone was affected one way or another. And here, at least in the war sequences, was a film that was as realistic as film could be on the subject. The camaraderie, the trenches, the fights for just a few metres of land. And young men who enlisted not realising what they were getting themselves into. From the moment the big parade starts (the parade of trucks taking soldiers to the front) till about ten minutes or so before the ending, including the famous walk though the woods sequence, this is one of the great silent films ever made. It was also one of the most sucessful.

The film follows three young men from different backgrounds from New York to the frontline. The spoiled rich kid is played by John Gilbert; the bartender by Tom O'Brien; and the construction worker by Karl Dane. The latter provides the film with one of his best moments during the trenches' sequences. Gilbert uses too much make-up, is overbearing when tries to moralise (oh, yes, there is one of those speeches) but while I didn't care for his character, or him for that matter, the change from brat to man is very well done.

However, the film has 70 minutes before the battle sequences and 10 minutes or so afterwards. The former are ok - we have been there before. Romantic war, the American soldier and the French peasant girl (played by Renée Adorée, and by the way, who thought of that name?), etc., etc., funny at times, and worth for character development. Note that a French peasant girl in 1917 is literate enough to use an English-French-English dictionary. Not quite at the level of Disney's Pocahontas magically being able to speak English but slightly amusing nevertheless. Depending on them, the film would be nice, but not memorable. On the other hand, the last 10 minutes - well most of them, and I will explain that in the moment - if cut would make this a much a better film.

So, spoiler alert! After the battle scenes, John Gilbert wakes in hospital and learns that the village where Renée Adorée lived was now a battlefield. And here the nonsense begins: he runs away from hospital, wounded in a leg, and goes to find her. The film's main selling point had been veracity - so why throw it out of the window for the sake of cheap melodrama? Of course he can't find her, is sent back to hospital and then home. At this stage, the film improves again - when we see him he has lost his leg. Not that my sympathy is with him, since he lost it because of the previous bout of nonsense. His family's awkward reaction is great cinema, and his mother's excellent. And a few minutes later, we are back to cheap melodrama, running with a wooden leg to the arms of the French love of his life. It really made me wonder if these had been later additions... After reading so much about it for so long, I really wanted this to be a better film than it is. But at least, for 40 minutes or so, it's really as good as it gets.

La Doppia Ora (2009) French poster

2010-08-22T03:15:00.001+01:00

Below is the French poster for an Italian film called La Doppia Ora. Is it just me, or does this remind you of Saul Bass?

The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932)

2010-08-17T19:11:00.003+01:00

I will start by stating the obvious, so there can be no mistake. “The Mask of Fu Manchu” is an incredibly racist film. It’s not just the imperialist mind set that European civilization is both the apex and the protector of the rest of mankind – although there is plenty of that. It’s not just the yellow menace frame, with an enemy that is menacing because he is highly intelligent, without scruples of any kind and avid for power, but most of all because he aims to destruct that same civilization that allowed him to improve himself by getting three PhDs – although, yes, there is a lot of this. The moment where penny drops on realising how racist this really is, is when you realise that evil and sexual predators as they are, Fu Manchu and his daughter are far from being the bottom of the race hierarchy. For that there are plenty of black men that will happily serve as set decoration until they almost willing become human guinea pigs for Dr Fu Manchu’s experiments. Interestingly, I think it is one of the most interesting points of situation of 1930s American society.

The film further suffers from a silly script and an uninspired cast: Lewis Stone personifies the worst of the stiff upper lip British colonialism, which made me dislike him more than root for him; Jean Hersholt is an actor that I am growing to dislike more and more; and the romantic leads are dull (he seemed to be chosen solely on how hunky he looked). There are some good thrills I concede – when the heroine’s father reappears. There are two sole redeeming things. Boris Karloff as Fu Manchu and Myrna Loy as Fah Lo See, his daughter, who turn this as into a camp romp – which I believe is the reason of the film’s continued popularity. When they are onscreen the film lightens and you can’t resist their charms.

Karloff, post-“Frankenstein”, being established as a horror king. I had the feeling at some points that he is here as a replacement to Lon Chaney – the make-up, the tone of terror, etc. – and since MGM could no longer have the late actor, they got the best next thing. Even better is Myrna Loy as his nymphomaniac, sadist daughter – she has the best moments of the film, among them a sexually charged torture scene. It is one of the pinnacles of Pre-Code cinema and it has to be seen to be believed. I only regret that they don’t appear enough.

Finally an interesting game you can play if you watch it on the WB R1 DVD. The film was cut at some stage to tone down the racism and the sexuality. The restored version has these scene reinstated (as they should) but the quality is considerably inferior – so you can amuse yourself trying to spot them.

She Done Him Wrong (1933)

2010-08-13T22:10:00.002+01:00

“She Done Him Wrong” is arguably the best of Mae West’s vehicles – and I don’t think the word was ever better used. Have no doubt: from the poster (below) to the final shot, it’s all about Mae. It is also one of only two of films where she was the star to be released before the full enforcement of the Hays Code: in her first film “Night After Night” she had only a supporting role despite effortlessly stealing every scene from rather bland leads, including George Raft.

I truly enjoy this film and make no apologies for it. West is a pleasure to watch, dropping sex-filled innuendos and one-liners that have still the power to surprise a friend watching it for the first time, while being pursued (and managing) a whole army of men intent on enjoying her company (*). Among them, the very famous “Why don’t you come up some time and see me?”. Worth mentioning that among the many men that lust after her is a very young Cary Grant, still more his leading ladies’ crumpet than a leading man.

Adapted from West’s own play “Diamond Lil” the film had to fit the leading lady to a T. I suspect that although the film itself is a pre-Code it is a rather toned down adaptation of source material. West was notoriously daring for her time, spending a few days in jail for one her earlier plays, aptly named “Sex”. It is worth pointing out other than a strategically covered naked painting (and even that is briefly), you never see more than her shoulders and her low necklines. Proof, if necessary, that suggestion can be far more interesting that bearing it all. Interestingly enough, while the overt sexuality of the dialogue is the most obvious and preeminent of the film, something else caught my attention – and spoiler alert here – our leading lady literally gets away with murder.

Equally interesting, is placing West’s comedies in the context of Paramount’s output. Paramount clearly catered to a sophisticated audience – the Lubitsch/Hopkins comedies and the von Sternberg/Dietrich films are among the most remembered; and West fits in that. Moreover, she blends Dietrich’s carnal sexuality with Hopkins’ comedic one into something unique – even if she had invented herself on stage before either of those two.

(*) – Basically the same routine she kept doing until her last film, the infamous “Sextette”.

The Yearling (1946)

2010-07-29T19:13:00.001+01:00

As part of the Nitrate Screenings season at the BFI I recently watched "The Yearling". From the season's point of view, it was great. It was a beautiful print (the person who introduced it said it was one of the best in the archives). From the quality of the film itself... well... how much sugar can you hold? Shamelessly stealing from the friend I went to see it with, this is not recommended for diabetics.

"The Yearling" is one of MGM's key titles of the 1940s, when Mayer was sole master of the studio, between Thalberg (and others like Selznick and Mankiewicz) and his own downfall. It's a coming of age story of a boy living with his parents in an isolated farm in post-Civil War Florida. It stars Gregory Peck and Jane Wyman as his parents, Claude Jarman Jr as the boy, and in a very small supporting role, Margaret Wycherly, who a few years later had the part of a lifetime as James Cagney's mother in the masterpiece which is "White Heat".

Jane Wyman is not an actress for whom I have warm feelings. She's amazing in "All That Heaven Allows" but usually I'm pretty indifferent to her performances. They're not bad, but don't click with me. Yet, here she is pretty good, and I enjoyed her turn as woman who has learned how to repress love for a son she's only too afraid to loose, as she lost all the others. Her happy fury at a piece of black alpaca her husband brings her is extremely well played.

On the other hand, Peck was not particularly interesting, being too understanding and too sweet for a farmer in such conditions. I suspect the book had be a subjective, idealised view of the character which wasn't properly translated into the objective medium which is film. And for those who may wonder if that can ever be properly done, Peck's performance in "To Kill a Mockingbird" is a perfect example. The leading boy was even worst - irritatingly pretty as only film kids are, looking like no thought has ever entered his head. He was also a bit too old to make the character believable in his naivety. I own up to the fact that the character irritated beyond reason and my judgement may be a bit cloudy, but I was left wondering what someone like Mickey Rooney would have done with it just a few years before.

Finally, the script deserves serious criticisms. It's too long for a start. 45min could easily chopped without losing any integrity. But more importantly it takes over an hour to start the real story, the unhealthy obsession the lonely boy develops with the fawn. Why does it take so long is beyond me. As I said the film is pure sugar, and perhaps that's my main criticism. And while I like to eat sweet things (the blog's name is a give away), I rather prefer my films more savoury.

Skyscraper Souls (1932)

2010-07-25T12:46:00.003+01:00

The first thing that came to mind while I was watching MGM's 1932 "Skyscraper Souls" was how much like a WB film it felt. From the choice of leading man (Warren William) to the main theme of ruthless capitalism, it brought memories of Roy del Ruth's 1933 "Employees Entrance". It is clearly a social message film more in tune what was being produced in Burbank than in Culver City. The criticism of manipulating and/or playing the stock market for easy gain must have been too raw for Depression audiences, but one that hasn't lost its relevance. However, I didn't enjoy it half as much as I did the later film. Not that this is a bad film - it just takes forever to get interesting.

The plot concerns the life of the owner, creditors and employees of the Dwight Building (might be Dwight Tower or something similar), the only true love of business man Dave Dwight (Williams). Among them are the young secretary (Maureen O'Sullivan) of his long term assistant and mistress; a jeweller (Jean Hersholt) in love with a call girl; a married investor looking for a new business opportunity and some fun away from his wife; a man (Wallace Ford) in love with a married woman and a few others.

On the positives, Warren William scores really high. He was arguably the king of Pre-code. He had a charming ruthlessness that made him perfect for this sort of parts. The party scene where he tries to seduce Maureen O'Sullivan by getting her drunk is often unconfortable to watch, not because it's bad, but because it's so well done. And yet, his final scenes show him being not entirely a monster, truly behaving like a gentleman. I also quite liked O'Sullivan's poor beau, in particular in a scene where he seems unable to forget or forgive what he so desperately wants to forget and forgive.

On the other hand, one of its problems is that wastes too much time with secondary plots that could have been easily cut (one assumes that MGM was trying to emulate star-filled films like "Dinner at Eight" and "Grand Hotel") and distract from the core: Warren William's unscrupulous businessman. The Jean Hersholt sub-plot serves no purpose: we are even denied an on-screen conclusion, merely being told what happened. Slightly more relevant but nevertheless taking too much space is the love affair between Wallace Ford's character (curiously enough, William's main antagonist in "Employees Entrance") and the married woman that seems to be in perpetual need of money.

Towards the end it also suffers from being a MGM film. While WB occasionally had the guts to put some really realistically uncomfortable endings in its Pre-code films (and go no further than "Employees Entrance"), here we have a complete cop-out, moralising ending, which in the last scene particularly made me cringe. And yet again things aren't necessarily that simple. O'Sullivan's change from the beginning of the scene (the look of contempt and envy when she sees William's wife) to the happiest of endings clearly allows for the possibility of that rather than repenting, she's resigning herself and that deep down she has been forever tainted.

Caravaggio, 400 years of his death

2010-07-18T00:33:00.008+01:00

Caravaggio is my favourite painter and today marks the 400th anniversary of his death. I have had the chance to see many of his paintings in the last year or so, after completely falling in love with his work during a few days in Rome, where the best of his work is shown. Sadly timing was not on my side and this didn't happened him in time to go to the 2005 exhibition here in London, and went to Rome a year early so missed this year's exhibition there.

St John the Baptist

Death of the Virgin

The Entombment of Christ

The Conversion of St Paul (Cerasi Chapel)

Thirteen Women (1932)

2010-07-11T23:44:00.006+01:00

"Thirteen Women" is one of those films that should be better known. It's not brilliant, I am the first to acknowledge that. However, it has aspects that hold your attention, it's short, moves at good pace and for the first half has a really interesting story. It has also, and I feel a bit ashamed to say this, a camp side that makes it hard to resist, very much in the same vein of "The Mask of Fu Manchu" (which is much further over the top). As in that film, Myrna Loy plays a Machiavellian exotic type, in this case intent in revenge against her old schoolmates, the thirteen women of the title lead by Irene Dunne. She does this by sending them fake horoscopes that the poor silly things turn into self-fulfilling prophecies. I confess little empathy with people that stupid. But it is an original modus operandi for a killer.

There is a minor point as there aren't really 13 women, as we only see 6 plus Loy and in the yearbook she uses to mark her successes only appear 11 (plus a photo on top which could be a teacher). Maths apart, the concept of the film, that someone can suggest to others that they will do something against themselves without actually doing it is grasping. I know little of Law, but I wonder if this can be considered a crime. Sadly, the second half of the film turns into more traditional methods of eliminating people, and as a result the films suffers as it loses its originality. This is clearly one of those cases where a longer film, with an even longer build-up (i.e. more deaths) would benefit it tremendously. The film also suffers from the card that appears before the end, closing what would be an amazing open ending.

Myrna Loy's character is probably the most interesting of the film. She oozes sex, she's intelligent and mixed-race. Of course she has to be evil. But in the confrontation scene between the two leading ladies, she suddenly reveals her motives and there are far deeper than we thought - and apologies, spoilers coming. When she thought she's leaving her past behind (there's a not so subtle hint of having been rape by sailors) and hopes to be treated as white woman would, she's bullied by this women into leaving the school she sees as her sole opportunity. The sharp commentary of how whites treated others in the late 1910s/early 1920s (when I assume they would be in school) is unexpected. It's even more interesting as this is not that far removed from 1932, and therefore audiences knew the film would be talking about contemporary treatment of foreigners and non-whites. To be honest, I found it hard not to sympathise with her.

Irene Dunne, as our brave heroine, and Ricardo Cortez, as the heroic police officer held no interest to me.

Finally there's a fantastic Hitchcockesque sequence in the film involving Irene Dunne's kid that definitely is worth a look.

PS - The DVD is the French release by Montparnasse. It's much better than I thought, but not exactly brilliant.

Downstairs (1932)

2010-06-27T23:36:00.004+01:00

Much has been said about John Gilbert's fall from grace in the early 1930s. His voice is often blamed, but anyone who has watched his most famous talkie, "Queen Christina", will know that there wasn't anything wrong per se. We know now that L. B. Mayer's own personal vendetta against him had something to do with it - as it did to another of MGM's late silent male stars, William Haines. However, after watching "Downstairs" I wonder how much of Gilbert's own career choices might have weighted in his demise.

"Downstairs" was a pet project of the actor and he is credited with the story. However, rather than playing the romantic hero, he plays the cad. The story itself is very good. The new chauffeur of noble household in post-WWI Austria blackmails the mistress, seduces an old cook for her savings and the new wife of the butler for sport. The character has no redeeming features and Gilbert doesn't quite achieve the level of charm to carry it through. I was left wondering what was the effect of that in Depression audiences.

But it's not just Gilbert that doesn't deliver the goods. His soon to be real-life wife, Virginia Bruce, plays the young bride. With a very limited range and a expressionless face she is a bore to watch, despite one good scene (more on that later) and a very good part. I can only remember her in "Kongo" where she was equally dull. Paul Lukas, as the butler, and Olga Baclanova ("Freaks"), as the baroness, are harmed severely by their accents, at times exceedingly hard to follow. The best element in the cast is the actress playing the cook, Bodil Rosing.

Despite the casting faults, the film has a few moments of pre-code glory. The honesty about sex is really refreshing in the film, in particular the issue of female satisfaction - the baroness has a lover because she's married to an older buffoon; the old (and ugly, we are told) cook is seduced by the first man who says a few nice things to her - and she knows it; and the young wife is carried away by desire, rather than duty. In the scene I mentioned above, she lashes out to her husband that his own distant manner is in part the reason she has given in to the passionate chauffer, who we are left in no wonder from his first appearance, has made a career out warming up his mistresses in cold rides in the country.

L'Arnacoeur, or a tale of two trailers

2010-06-19T23:39:00.003+01:00

L'Arnacoeur, is soon opening in the UK. I saw the British trailer and thought it stupid, idiotic and had no wish to see the film whatsoever. You can see why, surely.

Then yesterday, speaking to a French friend, she mentioned she was really keen to watch the film, so out of curiosity I looked for the French trailer and now I am quite curious to see it, as it sounds really clever. (Sorry, no subtitles)

So, my question - why dumb down the trailer to the point of idiocity?

José Saramago (1922-2010)

2010-06-18T23:10:00.006+01:00

José Saramago, the only Portuguese Literature Nobel prize and indeed the only Portuguese-speaking Literature Nobel prize winner, died today. I still remember the joy of finding out he had won.

Controversial, praised, hated, communist, all these describe him, but ultimately he will remembered or not because of his work. I personally loved "Memorial do Convento" ("Balthasar and Blimunda" in English) which I read for school when I was 18. I read 2 more of his books which i liked much less and left a fourth unfinished, and have to admit that his personal style defeats me more than engages me - I can only read him in special moments. Still, I am curious about two of his later novels which I might pick at some stage.

The cover's design, recently replaced for something brighter, was one of the things I always admired in the edition of his books (well, the Portuguese ones, anyway). They were elegant and gave nothing away.

Nitrate screenings in London, July 2010

2010-06-13T12:01:00.005+01:00

To celebrate its 75th anniversary, the BFI is going to screen here in London through July and August some of their nitrate prints. For those who don't know, nitrate prints are dangerous, are rarely projected these days but look differently to what we are used to see thanks to their silver content. This is probably the reason why the "silver screen" was named as such. I am not aware of ever seen a projection of a nitrated print for a full lenght feature, but from the combustion of a cartoon in Lisbon a few years ago (mentioned as #1 here) I assume I have seen at least a short.

My only (very minor issue) is with the selection of films - I would love to get a chance to see some of the B&W work of people like Ernest Haller, Gregg Toland or Joseph LaShelle in nitrate, but the emphasis is on British films. Makes sense, I know...

The selection of films for July can be found here, and you'll be able to see the August selection whenever they announce it.

Further discussion on this can be found here.

The Shopworn Angel (1938)

2010-05-29T10:26:00.004+01:00

Margaret Sullavan, James Stewart, MGM in the late 1930s, produced by Joe Mankiewicz – you could be forgiven if you were to think that “The Shopworn Angel”’s director was Frank Borzage. It even has his themes of sacrifice and redemption through a spiritual love. Only it isn’t. The name on the credits is that of H.C. Potter, better known for “Mr Blandings builds his Dream House”.

At the beginning the film looks like it’s going to unfold like a very simple love triangle from the 1930s. Sullavan and Walter Pidgeon are romantically attached until she meets a young naïve soldier (Stewart). Trying desperately to impress his friends he tells them she is his girlfriend and out of sympathy she plays the game. What unfolds is a truly unusually love triangle – something that reminded me of “The Wings of Dove” (the film, as I never read the book).

I was pleasantly surprised by the film’s ending, and in retrospect I think it far more realistic than I would expect for the period. Frankly, I think had Borzage directed it he wouldn’t have made it the same. Another happy surprise was Walter Pidgeon’s performance. I am used to see him as either the flat second banana (e.g. “Too Hot to Handle”) or as Greer Garson’s husband in whatever thing MGM thought would sell tickets (“Mrs Miniver”, “Madame Curie”, etc., etc., etc.) and this happily falls in neither category. Margaret Sullavan and Hattie McDaniel (as her maid, as you might have guessed) are very good, although I prefer Sullavan in Borzage's hands, and James Stewart looks as naïve as only he can.

Despite all this the film doesn’t quite make it. I can’t exactly put my finger into it, but it lacks something – if I had to guess I’d say is Stewart’s saccharine naivety that doesn’t quite do it for me, it never did.

PS - I am left wondering if the artist who made the poster had ever seen a clear photo of Margaret Sullavan.

PPS - added a second and much better poster.

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951)

2010-05-23T09:51:00.004+01:00

A while back I mentioned an example of a comedy that tried too hard to be funny. This time I will be talking about a film that tries to hard to be profound and have meaning. Needless to say, it fails. The film is opus 4 (of 6) in Albert Lewin's career as a director and is an updated/reinterpretation of the story of the Flying Dutchman, where the captain of the ship condemned to wonder alone through the seas unless he finds a woman to break his curse. It stars Ava Gardner and James Mason.

The film is highly regarded by some, in particular for Jack Cardiff's cinematography. This is indeed the most interesting point of the film, as Cardiff makes it look unlike any other Technicolor film - a talent I like, but sadly in this case from a purely intellectual point of view, as I didn't like the colour palette which looked too much like watercolour over a black and white image. There is a sequence towards the end, in James Mason's room that I quite liked, with the game of light and shadows. I also didn't entirely dislike James Mason's performance, although finding it amusing that he (as a Dutch character) has a flawless, perfect, posh English accent, which is Mason's own. By the way, I would like to know if it was just me, but does he get dubbed over his narration? I'd swear that at some point, the voice-over changes.

But here finish the points of interest... and at 2h what remains is a very long, over baked, flavourless film. The problems start with cast. James Mason aside, it was a bore to watch. Ava Gardner seldom could act and she didn't here, failing to give the character the heart she conquers by the end of the film. Also her voice got on my nerves, silky sexy but so hollow. The rest of the cast is as forgetful as is dull, but I got the impression that Lewin wanted to cast George Sanders as the archaeologist and failing to do so got a look-a-like. Also, Spain seems to be full of gypsies rather than Spaniards. Is this to add to the mystic element? Several key moments have Spanish only dialogue (the reading the cards scene in particular), not subtitled, which I could understand enough to follow, but is frustrating if you can't at least follow some of it. Also, I was left wondering which language were the fishermen speaking in the first scene, as it didn't sound like Spanish to me. Galician? My guess, as the pronunciation of words was very similar to Portuguese.

Worst of all is the dialogue - it's so stylised and artificial it pained me. Full of quotes and self-references, aided by visual metaphors (Ava Garner's almost sexual reaction after the car is thrown off the cliff), in case you missed the point, it hasn't dated very well. The whole story is moved forward by characters who have forebodings, predictions, read cards, quote ancient Greeks and live in a world of perpetual coincidences (or fate aligning, whichever you prefer). That was the intention, but the result is that it becomes unintentionally funny. You would have to be a genius to pull it off. Watching it at the BFI, several people were giggling or laughing in the silliest moments (and they all looked like respectable film fans by the way) and so did I.

The Bride Wore Boots (1946)

2010-05-16T23:19:00.003+01:00

In Barbara Stanwyck's filmography, "The Bride Wore Boots" stands as the last comedy in the career of an actress whose comic talent brought us among others "The Mad Miss Manton", "The Lady Eve" and "Ball of Fire". While uneven and competent for most of is duration, it ends being no more than a footnote. It also suffers from a good ten year delay; in 1937 was called "The Awful Truth" and in 1940 "My Favorite Wife" and in both occasions starred Cary Grant and Irene Dunne. So you've guessed - a married couple gets divorced and... you know the rest.

The film isn't bad, it's just not good either. Barbara Stanwyck's energy and Robert Cummings' charm manage to keep it afloat most of the time. But even they fail occasionally. She is too clumsy in the scenes where she's ruthless towards her husband, often being too aggressive and exploding quite quickly. Patrick Knowles as the second banana is limited by the script to a caricature. However, the biggest disappoint with the film was Diana Lynn. When I saw the opening credits I was quite excited with her third billing. The know-it-all sister in Wilder's "The Major and the Minor" and in Sturges' "The Miracle of Morgan Creek", it's evident here that she was being groomed by Paramount for something bigger - the second female lead. The problem is that her part failed her and she comes up so unsympathetic and irritating that makes Gail Patrick in "My Favourite Wife" someone you want as your best friend.

On the plus side, I quite like the way they showed the children being manipulated by Stanwyck's character to make her ex-husband's life pure hell. The opening sequence is brilliant telling you all you needed to know about all those involved. The whole subplot with the horse is quite well done, albeit a bit saccharine. And best of all, Peggy Wood as Stanwyck's mother, one of those know-it-all characters that dished sarcasm so well (reminding me of Lynn's work in the aforementioned films).

All in all, there's no genius in this. It'll make you laugh and occasionally cringe. Oh, and keep an eye for a very young Natalie Wood as the little girl.

Lucky Night (1939)

2010-05-13T01:31:00.004+01:00

If you ever want to put someone off classic films forever, just show them "Lucky Night". It is a strong contender to one of the worst A-pictures of the 1930s - other than Robert Taylor's astonishing good looks (he is one of the prettiest men ever captured on film, if not the the prettiest) nothing works. In fact the film is so bad, it should be used as an example of how not to do.

Let's start with the main problem - the script, and look away cause there will be spoilers. It looks like it has been glued together, and badly, from separate stories, something typical of the early talkies (as I mentioned here, for example). A rich heiress (Myrna Loy) is bored so decides to go and find a job and the meaning of life. She fails and that night, on a park bench, she meets a fellow unemployed (Taylor) and they embark on a night of drink and gambling where nothing goes wrong. They wake up married and because her father disapproves, they decide to take a go at it. It doesn't go very well. He wants fun and she wants a home (this is after all an MGM film) so they part ways. Then there's a happy ending which is parachuted two minutes before the ending.

I assume the intention was to show the compromises that make up relationships. Instead, we have the opposite. Magic will solve everything. At the end, neither has surrendered and consequentially all is bound to happen again. The characters are also so sketchy that one doesn't really empathise with them, or even side with them. They're both idiotically naïve and Taylor's character in particular has very peculiar notions of how to survive. Loy's father describes him as "a poet who doesn't write", which pretty much summarises him. All this is exacerbated by a director (Norman Taurog) who fails to direct, guide or even try to savage the film.

The cast is not much better. Douglas Fowley as George, the friend who supports them through the mad night is the only good thing in that department. Robert Taylor and Myrna Loy suffer from the bad script but they are also to blame. In the pre-war dramas she made at MGM she looks too noble and suffering and looks stale and uninteresting as a consequence - she doesn't appear to be the same woman who did "The Thin Man", "Libeled Lady" or "Third Finger, Left Hand". Maybe she was only at ease in comedies, or may those were just better scripts, better directed. Robert Taylor on the other hand was never a great actor and that shows. Good looking, yes, charming, yes, but of limited talent. But funnily enough, he survives the crash better that Loy.

Lena Horne (1917-2010)

2010-05-10T22:39:00.005+01:00

Lena Horne had probably one of the most frustrating careers in Hollywood - just because she wasn't white. She talked quite candidly about this in "That's Entertainment III". She was a singer whose numbers could be easily taken out of the film, especially in the South of the USA. Yet, among those numbers are one of the best renditions of "Stormy Weather" ever (although I prefer Judy Garland's). One of the few starring roles was in Vincente Minnelli's "Cabin in the Sky", an all-black musical, but even there one of her numbers ("Ain't it the Truth") was cut because she sang it while in the bath, i.e. too sexy (and it is...). MGM released it later in one of their shorts and you can see it as an extra on DVD. Go, watch it, do it, pay homage to a great singer who never got the chances she deserved as an actress.

Black Narcissus (1947)

2010-05-08T22:41:00.005+01:00

Along with "Brief Encounter" and "Kind Heart and Coronets", "Black Narcissus" is my favourite British classic film. Like those two it's uniquely British in feel and subject matter (emotional repression, like "Brief Encounter"). It also has that magnificent cold Technicolor palette so characteristic of this side of the Atlantic which I never could account for (probably the natural light, so different from the Californian sun). A Powell and Pressburger collaboration, beautifully shot by Jack Cardiff and starring Deborah Kerr and Kathleen Byron, it follows a group of nuns settling a convent in a Himalayan hill top, in what used to a harem. The atmosphere of the building, the pure air and the constant wind tear down the nuns' defences and leave them prey of their own desires.
This is a film about repressed desires and dreams and what happens when your present is faced again with past desires. Several times through the film one or the other of nuns mention that they have been thinking of something they had forgotten. In the case of Deborah Kerr's Sister Clodagh we even see that past in flashbacks. She's the young mother superior of the group, the youngest ever. When she is assigned the task of leading this group of nuns at the beginning of the film her face betrays her pride, a rare crack in her perfect façade. Among the nuns under her supervision is Kathleen Byron's Sister Ruth (the de facto second lead despite her 6th or 7th billing). As the film starts she's described as "ill". The two women are the two sides of the same coin - one so repressed that she's almost not human, the other equally repressed but about to explode. The two women actually resemble each other when they are in their habits, and I couldn't left wondering if that was just a coincidence.

Sister Ruth finally explodes when the only white man in sight appears. Clearly treated as a sex-object (he wears shorts that almost look like hot pants and gratuitously exhibits his bare chest to the nuns) he is the catalyst of Sister Ruth's rebellion - giving in to her desires. At this stage we realise that her "illness" has been sexual frustration and now she's ready to give in. And her most daring weapon is lipstick, in one of the best sequences of the film. They reminded of Gene Tierney's red lips in "Leave Her to Heaven".
Key in showing all this is Jack Cardiff's cinematography. With light and colour he manages to show the beauty and remoteness of the hill top and most important the emotions of nuns. In particular, he transfigures Kathleen Byron's face to reveal the beast that possesses her - a quasi-madness in the first great confrontation with Kerr; the black and white contrast in the second and that amazing final sequence. He won a well deserved Oscar, as did Alfred Junge for the amazing art direction. The film was mostly shot at Pinewood but you'd never know, and it's through the work of those two men, along that of matte painter Walter Percy Day, that it doesn't occur to you that you never left the studio set.

To all the recent and expecting parents I know...

2010-05-04T09:52:00.005+01:00

I thought you might sympathise with this...

Richard Brooks’ Tennessee Williams II: Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)

2010-04-23T00:36:00.002+01:00

Richard Brooks’ second adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ work was “Sweet Bird of Youth”. This story of loss youth and shattered dreams was and still is more criticised than “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” for giving in to censors and making a travesty of the play. While I have not read the play or seen a production, I know what the main differences are. And purists will forgive me, but I really like the film, differences or not, for reasons I will give below.

Like “Cat…” this was an MGM production. Several cast members, including Geraldine Page and Paul Newman made the transition from the Broadway production. By 1962 Newman was already a star, so I am sure they didn’t hesitate much on that. Page on the other hand didn’t had much of film career (and despite 8 nominations, including one for this, and 1 Oscar she’s not remembered for her films) and I am quite happy they kept her as she is my favourite thing in the film. She’s Alexandra del Lago, an aging star persuaded to make a comeback. When she sees herself on the screen, she panics and flees. In her escape she meets with Paul Newman’s Chance Wayne, a wannabe film star and reluctant gigolo aging fast. Del Lago describes herself as a monster, but the interesting thing about her is that while she is one, she is very conscious of it. She has seen it all before and knows what to expect. So she drowns her sorrows in vodka, pills, hashish and young men. She becomes more and more dependent on these and apparently vulnerable until the point you forget who she really is. As the third act starts, she changes – and what a fantastic scene that is. Suddenly she’s the full on monster she had so often stated, yet one who still holds your sympathy.

Newman’s extremely good looks are used and abused by the director, often treating him almost as a piece of meat. Which he sort of is, as that is how he survives, going from woman to woman (there was a mention of eccentrics which I was left wondering if there hadn’t been some men as well in his past…) and yet he is the most fragile of all characters, the most innocent, realising only towards the end the reality of his situation, but then facing it full on. And this is where most criticisms come from. The ending of the play is extremely violent and bleak. I doubt also that a transposition of that ending would result very well onscreen even if it was handled carefully – you’d still have to show far more than you do on stage, which would then alienate audiences. Richard Brooks’ original choice of ending was equally bleak but “less” violent – Newman’s character would be killed, which funnily enough might have worked really well. However MGM wouldn’t be persuaded and the ending as it stands differs completely of its source material.

So why do I like it, and think it holds well? Brooks rewrote the play adding and cutting – and I think he developed the character of Heavenly, Chance’s love interest and the daughter of a corrupt Southern baron in quite a different way from Williams. In the film, while she has been beaten by life and circumstances and mostly her father, she has not been defeated. Shirley Knight’s performance show us an assurance and an inner force that is barely contained and if triggered will explode. And she does – and this is why the ending makes sense. Because the character is consistent. Because what she does in the end is in character. True, maybe it’s not Williams’ character, but it’s the film’s. To me this is the may difference between the two adaptations. In “Cat…” as I said here, the changes transform Brick from one character into another in a sudden jump.

Ed Begley as Heavenly's monstrous father won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Page and Knight got nominated for Leading and Supporting Actress respectively, but lost to Ann Bancroft and Patty Duke both in “The Miracle Worker”. The other losers in the main category were Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn and Lee Remick (for “Days of Wine and Roses”) and Angela Lansbury was robbed of the Best Supporting Oscar for “The Manchurian Candidate”.

Psycho (1960)

2010-04-21T01:16:00.006+01:00

I hope you'll forgive me, but I will discuss plot aspects on this one... If you have never seen "Psycho" and know nothing about it, please go away. You are one of the few who is in for a treat whenever you'll get the chance to watch it.
It's really hard to a modern audience to assess the impact "Psycho" might have had when it was first released. Since its premiere 50 years ago it has become a popular culture icon, its most famous scene copied or parodied (my favourite parody is in "The Simpsons" when Maggie hits Homer with a hammer) and the plotline is in the public domain. I went to a screening recently and unsurprising there was little reaction from the audience when we got to the shower scene. How can it be otherwise? EVERYONE knows that Marion Crane is going to get slashed.

But "Psycho" is much more than someone being murdered while taking a shower. To be fair I always thought the scene the let down of the film, but having seen it on the big screen (well, NFT1, which is about as big as it gets nowadays) I changed my mind. What's noticible on a small screen (some of the technical tricks behind it) suddenly disappeared from sight - I never noticed that the knife never actually touches Janet Leigh. Like the shower scene, another aspect of "Psycho" that has been turned into a cliché is Bernard Herrmann's string-only score. I love it and even Hitch himself admited that 33% of the success of the film was due to the music. But from homages ("Halloween") to pastiches, it's hard to see how original and brilliant that score really is. Someone who studied Herrmann's scores once told me that there is even a little off note when John Gavin disappoints Janet Leigh by something he says. Herrmann was a genius and that shows here.

Going back to the audience at my screening, there was a reaction to the second murder - although a great scene in its own right, it's not known unless you have scene it. It's not famous and because of that is unexpected, and unexpectedly scored - Bernard Herrmann's score almost made me jump. As such, it takes you out of your comfort zone which was Hitchcock's idea in the first place. That is the closest we can now hope to be where the director wanted us. And the same thing applies to the scene in the cellar towards the end. Again is not that well known. I remember jumping first time I ever saw the film. Totally caught me unaware.

From the opening scene Hitchcock manipulates his audience, drawing attention to the fact of the financial situation of the main characters (Janet Leigh and John Gavin) is the only obstacle to their happiness. Not your typical Hitchcock blonde, Janet Leigh's Marion Crane - not aloof, not out to get her man, not unreachable - she's also a very real character (and a very good performance). When faced with temptation she gives in. The camera keeps focusing on the money, emphasising its importance. However, poor Marion didn't think things through and she suddenly fully realises of the consequences of her action and decides to undo them. But then we get to where Hitch wanted us. Suddenly, we are revealled that the money and Marion herself, have been nothing but pure McGuffin. Norman, his mother and their motel (and what happens there) is all he had ever been interested in. And Norman is Anthony Perkins, in what became a curse of a role of which he could never release himself. He is excellent - hurt, shy, soft-spoken, a bit of a geek, an all-around nice guy with a possessive mother. The dinner scene with Janet Leigh at the motel is amazing, and don't think I ever had noticed it until now.

There are of course, some problems with the film - the most obvious being the final explanation, almost in Agatha Christie style. It is such an obvious cut from what happened before that it feels clunky - less the actual content but the manner which is presented, almost as an after-thought. John Gavin and Vera Miles don't really do much - he seems to only be there as The Hunk, and she is there to scream.

Something that I believe may surprise people is how overtly sexual it is. The film starts with Janet Leigh and John Gavin in a hotel room, just after having had sex. Behind Norman Bates' behaviour, we later find out, was his repressed desire. Sex again.

Psycho (1960) trailer

2010-04-20T00:23:00.002+01:00

Hitchcock's trailer for "Psycho" (and for a post about the film). This is the best of his trailers, he is incredibly funny to watch as he describes the sets and events.

Love the way how the music switches back and fro between "The Trouble with Harry" and "Psycho"'s own score.

Richard Brooks' Tennessee Williams I: Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)

2010-04-17T12:57:00.004+01:00

Richard Brooks’ two adaptations of Tennessee Williams’ plays are often vilified because of their cop-out endings that distorted the playwright’s work. This needs to be put slightly in context. Williams’ work was created for the stage which had (and still has) far more freedom than film or even TV. His plays treat uncomfortable themes and are populated with characters on the verge of the precipice. His themes (mental illness, homosexuality, sexual freedom, the South) were unlikely to pass any film adaptation untouched.

“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” was the first of the two, the second being "Sweet Bird of Youth". Originally performed in 1955 on Broadway with Barbara Bel Gueddes and Ben Gazzara, it was transformed by MGM into a vehicle to one of their brightest stars, Elizabeth Taylor. Her co-star was a rising Paul Newman. Burl Ives reprised his role as Big Daddy and Judith Anderson, Jack Carson and Madeleine Sherwood (also from the stage version) rounded the cast. All of them the standard to which I compare any cast whenever I have seen the play (which I have twice). Taylor oozes sexuality and her desire to resume sexual relations with her husband is present in her every look – it probably didn't hurt that Paul Newman was quite good looking. She also has the cattiness that the role requires, that need to fight her corner to the last breath which is the essence of her character. Paul Newman’s stillness and indifference in the first two acts of the film is pretty much how I see the character, which of course, is a very personal matter. Both were nominated for Oscars but lost to David Niven and Susan Hayward (who also beat Deborah Kerr, Shirley MacLaine and Rosalind Russell).

Judith Anderson proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was an excellent actress the moment I saw her scaring Joan Fontaine in “Rebecca”, and here, in the final scenes in the library and before, when she hears Burl Ives telling her how much he can’t stand her, she shows it again and again. You might not notice it’s Mrs Danvers (or Judith Anderson if you prefer), but I dare you to forget her. As you won’t Madeleine Sherwood, a viper personified, the ever-pregnant wife of Jack Carson. Carson made a career out of sleazy types and this is probably one of his best after his amazing performance in “A Star is Born”. Sherwood is an actress that has always fascinated me because of this film. She is so malicious and yet she manages to keep it real, which is quite hard – the balance is incredibly delicate. The other only film where I am aware of having seen her is “Sweet Bird of Youth”. But the great tour-de-force is Burl Ives. He’s perfect. Unforgettable. His disdain for his grandchildren made clear with one look; his passion for life written all over his face. He is the character and perhaps the greatest merit of the film is that he has a lot more screen time than in some of the versions of the play text.

The there were two obvious points of contention when adapting it. One was Maggie’s adultery. Saint Liz couldn’t be an adulteress and get away with it: not only that was not allowed by the Hays Code, but the audience wouldn’t forgive it. Probably for the same reason Taylor toned down in her performance her thirst for money, not so much by cutting words but by subduing them. So that was relatively easy to sort – and in fact its impact in the narrative might have been minor if not for the second issue: the references to homosexuality (both Skippy’s and Brick’s). Throughout the first and second act of the film (which coincide with the play’s and end with Brick’s conversation in the rain with Big Daddy) the film is as faithful to the play as possible – Brick is a hopeless drunk haunted by the death of his best friend. For a modern audience watching the film, there are clear hints that Skippy was in love with Brick, the clearest one comes from Maggie herself when she describes the moment when she almost seduced Skippy to get her husband back. She says something like Skippy had the same thought, i.e. if he sleeps with Maggie he can present her to Brick as adulteress have and conquer him back. This has the additional “advantage” of presenting the absent gay character as an opportunistic monster determined to taint the heroine. But the guilt ridden Brick has been cleansed. He really wants his wife, only he has yet to forgive her, and when he locks himself in the bathroom after an argument he caresses her nightgown. Still, it’s hard to swallow his description of great bond with his dead friend as just friendship. Brick is closeted, and will stay so as he is unable to deal with his feelings. So far, so Williams. But then the twist comes. The third act of the play is problematic and there are at least two versions of it. The film retains some of the key issues and dialogue (Gooper and Mae’s confrontation with Big Mama in the library), however, Brick’s character suddenly changes personality, no longer guilt ridden, no longer an alcoholic, he makes peace with his family and guide us to the most frustrating of endings. And this is not because it’s not the play’s ending but because it’s no longer the same character. The rain has operated a miracle, or maybe Liz’s curves did it. Either way, watching the film again, a couple of months after seeing it on stage, made me like it less than I did before. And sadly, I don’t think I will ever like it as much.

PS – I saw it at the BFI in the most disappointing of prints… surely they can afford to get a new one for such a popular title. The colours were off; the image was often not in focus, a bit of a mess really. For that I might as well stay at home and watch the DVD.

Penelope (1966)

2010-04-15T01:44:00.002+01:00

Some films for which you have nostalgic feelings and were last seen too long ago are probably better not seen again. They might not survive the shock. A few years ago, watching “Around the World in 80 days” again shattered childhood memories revealing itself as a dreadful bore. “Sex and the Single Girl” with Natalie Wood and Tony Curtis survived better although it rode high on the nostalgia wave but “Penelope” another Natalie Wood vehicle was less successful.

I stumbled into it around 10 years ago and remembered that I laughed and laughed. Watching it again now, it revealed itself as nice piece of fluff with some inspiring moments but mostly as the grounds to showcase the leading lady in Edith Head’s costumes with Sydney Guillaroff’s wigs or with as little clothes as possible. The latter is in one of the most tasteless sequences in films I have seen, where sexual harassment and possible attempted rape are presented as light entertainment. The feminists must have cringed.

The film starts with a darling old lady robbing a bank. A few moments latter she is now a blonde young woman in a yellow Givenchy suit and not long after is Natalie Wood, all brunette, in a black dress arriving to her psychiatrist’s office. This is the best moment in the film, and one can only regret that Arthur Hiller didn’t direct the rest of the film with same grace and inspiration. A few minutes into her conversation with her psychiatrist we are set: the bank she just robbed is her husband’s because he’s not paying her enough attention. To be frank, if I was him I would divorce her, and vice-versa, but that’s the cynical in me.

The film clearly started with an interesting premise and a fun first act but it seems that the screenwriters had no idea where to take this and the second, but especially the third act seem contrived and rushed. There is a recurrent gag (and funny, while I’m at it) where Natalie Wood forgets her shoes everywhere but it seems completely gratuitous and is left unexplained.

Sadly for her, especially since this is her vehicle, Natalie Wood has hardly anything to hold on to. Her job is clearly to look pretty and smile and keep her fingers crossed that everything will turn out alright. The actor playing her husband is negligible. Peter Falk as the police detective has a bit more fun parodying himself and Dick Shawn as her psychiatrist almost runs away with film. The only reason he doesn’t is because Lila Kedrova and Lou Jacobi, as a pair of crooks, are by far the best thing onscreen and one can only regret that they aren’t there long enough.

American Madness (1932)

2010-04-12T23:32:00.002+01:00

Frank Capra’s “American Madness” is one of the lesser known films of the director, lost among titles like “It Happened One Night”, “Mr Smith Goes to Washington” or “It’s a Wonderful Life”. It is, I think, the first of his socially conscious films that still make his reputation. Having now seen all his feature films released between 1931 (after “Forbidden”) and 1948 (“State of the Union”) (*), the period he was at the height of his powers, I also think it’s one of his best.

For 1932 audiences, the film, which tackles the depression and money rushes head on, must have felt too close to home. It is set in a bank ran by a man who strongly believes character is the biggest security any one can offer for a loan. In the aftermath of a robbery, a rumour starts to spread that the bank is insolvent and there’s a money rush.

Personally I find Capra’s politics a bit too utopian and the cynical in me gets frustrated with them. I don’t know enough of economics to argue against the romantic ideas he defends here, nor will I try. But in his best work, or if you prefer, those films of his that I enjoy the most, he has some of the best sense of drama ever presented on screen. The climaxes of “Mr Smith…” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” are probably the best examples.

Walter Huston is great as the bank president, showing once more why he is considered one of the great American film actors. He has his Capra moment at the beginning when he delivers his speech about the depression, but he shines through in the scenes towards the end, during the money rush. The surprise however, comes from Pat O’Brien. I don’t like him very much but here I think he gives the performance of his career.

Edwin Maxwell as one of Huston’s antagonists in the board of directors is a proto-character of what Edward Arnold would come to symbolise in Capra’s films. Funnily enough his own screen persona seems to have been taken by Arnold later on.

(*) – Although “Broadway Bill” and “Lost Horizon” are very faded memories.

An Education (2009)

2010-03-29T23:56:00.007+01:00

I liked "An Education". It's a well made film with a nice story. It is well constructed. It has a charismatic leading actress that, come out of nowhere, carries nearly the whole weight of the film on her shoulders. It has two great performances by Peter Sarsgaard and Alfred Molina, the latter excellent and underused as the leading lady's father. As a plus it has a cameo from Emma Thompson and Rosamund Pike gets the chance of a light role that sadly doesn't amount to much, although it isn't her fault - but maybe I am still in awe of her after watching her as Hedda Gabler recently.

It's a romantic fantasy in a fairy tale world of girl's schools, chocolate box London and Parisian dreams. But the idea of a father allowing his 16-old daughter to marry a 30 something and to abandon school and the Oxford dreams that he harbours with so much acquiescence bothers me and verges on implausibility. I can not believe that for a minute in 1960s middle class, suburban London. It also proves that films are made in the editing room, not on the set: please watch the deleted scenes on the DVD. Two whole sequences are presented in a fuller, alternative form. Whoever decided to go with the final version deserves a medal. It slightly bothers me that Nick Hornby got praised simply because he's a famous writer. If the two re-edited sequences are representative of his script then he clearly doesn't understand drama or cinema. Of course, this is a bit unfair, as I am using something that did not make to the final cut, but my point is it could have had. True, Carey Mulligan deserves all the praise she got, but overall I felt so underwhelmed by the whole thing.

So, then to my point: how can this truly pass for one of the best films of the year?! It's a lovely soufflé, a delightful bonbon, an indulgent ice-cream cup (ok, you get the idea) but nothing more. You'll enjoy it while it lasts but it will vanish out of your mind at best a few days after watching it, if not earlier. I expect the contenders to best films of the year to move me, to make me laugh, to make me cry, to make me think, to make me hate or fall in love with the characters (as appropriate) and ultimately with the films themselves - or do I really have too high expectations?

Eça de Queirós by Columbano

2010-03-27T12:42:00.005Z

Eça de Queirós (1845- 1900) is arguably Portugal's best novelist and one of my favourite writers. Columbano Bordalo Pinheiro (1857 - 1929) is one of the key painters of late 19th Century, early 20th Century and again, a personal favourite. He his known among other things for a series of paintings of Portuguese intelectuals and key figures of the last quarter of the 19th Century. One of the most celebrated at the time was his portrait of Eça de Queirós. Sadly, a few months before the writer's death the painting was lost, with a few others, in a shipwreck while returning from an exhibition in Paris. And obviously, the sitter's death prevented a new one being made.

Fortunately, as I found out recently, there is a surviving photo (below, taken from here). It makes me even more sorry that I can't see it, but at least I can see what the painting looked like. And I love what he did with the hands.

Mary Stevens, M.D. (1933)

2010-03-21T01:56:00.005Z

"Mary Stevens, M.D." is one of those films that one can hardly imagine being made after the Hays Code had been fully enforced. The title clearly presents the main character as woman in what was then a man's world - medicine. And this is topic is actually tacked in the film: not only is she the only woman doctor, but also because in more than occasion we see patients been prejudiced against her, with some "returning later". The film clearly aims to educate its audience that women doctors are as good as their male counterparts, and I think no feminist would be disappointed with it. In the context of 1933, it's quite progressive. One might object that she decides to be a paediatrician rather than a surgeon, but that's quibbling. After all there are limits to how progressive Hollywood can be.

There some other things that will satisfy even the more demanding of Pre-code fans: an out of wedlock pregnancy and a moment where abortion is alluded to, clear references to corrupted politicians and depression. But keep in mind that the story itself pure soap-opera, revolving around Dr Stevens and her relationship with a colleague who only realises he loves her after getting married to someone else. Well done soap-opera, but ultimately, this is clearly belongs to the "women's picture" genre. Surprisingly enough, while it was based on a story by a female author, both credit scriptwriters are men.

Kay Francis takes full advantage of a meaty part. I confess not having seen many of her films except Lubitsch's "Trouble in Paradise" and not being particularly curious about them (this one being an exception). Strangely, despite liking the film and her performance, can't say I am any more curious than was before, and I have a feeling if I watch another of her films I will probably be drawn to it because of the director or co-star. I can't point out exactly why, but she doesn't interest me very much. Lyle Talboy plays her love interest. Usually cast as a not-very-nice-man, often a gangster or something equally seedy, it's curious to see him do something different for most of the film. Closing the trio of leads is Glenda Farrell as Francis' best friend and the best thing in the film. No-nonsense and always ready with a reply (as she often was in her films), she plays a nurse in Francis' practice. She also has the bitchiest remark to another nurse that we meant to think is ugly because she wears glasses. Finally worth noting Una O'Connor in a small supporting part, sadly miscast: the part is quite dramatic, but every time I hear her speak I find her funny. She had such a natural gift for comedy, and a voice to go with it, that it seems unnatural for her to anything but.
On a little note, I found the tag line (in the poster above) rather irritating. Apart from being slightly misleading is not in tune with the film's tone.

When Ladies Meet: 1933 vs 1941

2010-03-14T22:40:00.007Z

The 1941 version of "When Ladies Meet" starring Joan Crawford and Greer Garson along with Robert Taylor and Herbert Marshall, is a key film in MGM's history. This is not because of its artistic merits, but rather as a reflection of internal politics. Long were the days of Thalberg and Louis B. Mayer's wholesome vision was now the sole motor at the studio. More important, it's also a reflection of the studio's renewal of the top layer of female stars: Norma Shearer and Garbo retired in 1942 and 1941 respectively, Myrna Loy halted her career during the war never to fully return there (despite two more Thin Man sequels) and Joan Crawford would soon leave MGM in 1943. In their place a whole new generation would appear, lead by Judy Garland and Lana Turner and that Mayer-esque wholesomeness, Greer Garson - who in fact belonged to the previous generation, being a year older than Crawford, Garbo and Loy. So while Cukor's "The Women" had been a battle between two reigning queens, in 1941, "When Ladies Meet" was a battle of the fittest.

The film itself is negligible. It's a duller remake of a dull 1933 version starring a rising Myrna Loy, Robert Montgomery, Frank Morgan and Ann Harding. It's the story of a writer (Loy/Crawford) who falls in love with her married publisher (Morgan/Marshall). Through the scheming of another man who is in love with her (Montgomery/Taylor), she ends up meeting and admiring her lover's wife (Harding/Garson) . The first film is a full-on Pre-code where falling in love also means having sex. The remake is tamed by comparison, with a few more grand speechs and a clear indication of a off-screen happy ending all around. I also thought that its universe was better suited for the 1930s than for the 1940s.

Comparing the two films' casting is interesting. The Loy/Crawford part is the effectively the lead for the first two thirds but then is clearly subservient to the wife. While Myrna Loy isn't particularly memorable in it, Joan Crawford was a grotesque casting error. As a sophisticated author she doesn't convince. I mean, she knits for God's sake! Not exactly what one would expect from a authoress with a deep insight to the modern woman's psyche. Loy fares better but her heart isn't there. She's way too serious. Garson is surprising the better cast of all four women as Ann Harding also left me cold. She's also the only one that showed some humour. The last act of the story (which is based on a play) is built up in such way that makes you root for the wife, and by casting Garson in the better role there was a clear message to Crawford - a message reinforced with her next and last films for the studio ("Reunion in France" and "Above Suspicion").

The men fare a little better, although not much. Robert Montgomery is somewhat charming and redeems himself though that - his character clearly believes all his fair in love and war, and love is a war and that can easily go wrong and gets the balance just right. Robert Taylor on the other had is too heavy handed and misses the point completely. But I would have liked to see him cast as the publisher against Montgomery simply because I can understand anyone falling for him, while I cannot understand why would anyone look twice at either Frank Morgan or Herbert Marshall. I was surprised to find out that as late as 1933 Frank Morgan (the wizard in "The Wizard of Oz") could have been considered as a leading man. But he at least manages to be somewhat slimy as required. Herbert Marshall doesn't even manage that.

Both films are great examples of the studio system as a factory not working. They fail notwithstanding the stars, the modern themes, the classy look and the brilliant technicians (and MGM had no shortage of these). Which leads me to my final point. Cedric Gibbons got art direction Oscar nominations for both films (in either case the only nomination each film had) and he truly deserved it for the 1933 version. I love Loy's appartment and the country house where the last two acts unfold. The sets are clever and work really well. So why change it? They are slightly updated (not even sure if the underlying structures aren't the same) but that seems to be it and yet he still gets a nomination... paraphrasing one of this year's Oscar jokes - ballots are sent out to the members of the Academy and then they mark the ballots, and then, no matter what, they nominate Cedric Gibbons (he won 11 Oscars out of 39 nominations - I think only Walt Disney, Alfred Newman and John Williams have more nominations that he did).

The Patsy (1928)

2010-03-10T22:16:00.006Z

Immediately before "Show People" King Vidor directed Marion Davies in "The Patsy", the story of a not-so-ugly duckling who is in love with her shallow sister's beau. She thinks she lacks "personality", her father disagree. Her mother (played by Marie Dressler) thinks she is a major cause of problems and much prefers her sister.

I saw this film a few months ago, and again tonight at the BFI. Tonight's screening, part of Birds Eye View film festival boasted of a new score by a "multi-talented singer-songwriter" that has "made a name for herself as an innovative composer". Had I read that description before I bought the ticket, I would have stayed away - she made the music all about herself and not about the film. As a result it killed its natural rhythm and a few comic moments. It created noises slightly out-of-sync with the action (e.g. a plate crashing) that distracted too much. Plus it was loud, invasive and not in the tiniest suited for the action. We were even treated to a song...

And yet, despite all this, Marion Davies' performance shone through. I think I prefer her other Vidor film, but she has great moments. One is a sequence of imitations of great starts of the silent era including Lillian Gish and I think Pola Negri. Another is when she tries to get a "personality" and suddenly quotes witticisms unexpectedly. She's hilarious when trying to persuade the man she loves to kiss her (something on the lines of "what's a kiss between friends") and she engages your sympathy when she is being treated as second class by her mother and sister. She also manages to create those little funny moments that help create a good film - making sure her loved one gets the biggest ice-cream bowl. I can only say it's a pity that more her stuff isn't easily available.

Providing great support and nearly stealing the show is Marie Dressler. I think that had the Oscars a Best Supporting Actress from the beginning, she would have been a serious contender. The first act of the film, during a Sunday meal, is proof enough of that. She bosses one daughter and her husband left, right and center. She's delightfully overbearing when she manages to displace her husband from his seat, take the newspaper from him, play the ill and suffering wife and insult him all in a few minutes. You are left in no doubt who's the boss. She wants her daughter to marry a man that is both a good match socially and that both can boss around but at same time betrays her eagerness to rise socially, even ignoring an insult. Despite all this, she has a heart and while you laugh at her and sometimes with her, by the end you love her.

I have absolutely no idea who was the actress playing the vamp-ish sister, but I quite like her, as I did the father in his scenes with Davies. There was believable tenderness between the two.

I want to see more of Vidor's late silents. They are well constructed films, well acted and well directed. Martin Scorcese said he did one for himself, one for the studios. I assume under the first category fall "Greed", "Duel in the Sun" and "The Fountainhead". I struggle to say which one I liked the least. "Duel in the Sun" is just plain awful (Jennifer Jones and Selznick taking a lot of the blame) but the other two try too hard to be relevant. Yet, his studio assignments, star vehicles such as this, "Show People" and "Stella Dallas" seem to me much more interesting. Maybe he just relaxed. Whatever he did, I like it.

Her Sister from Paris (1925)

2010-03-07T21:02:00.006Z

I think it's a good sign when you watch a comedy in the cinema and not only everyone laughs, but you also leave with your cheeks aching. It happened to me after watching "Her Sister from Paris" with Constance Talmadge and a very young Ronald Colman. It's farce where a plain wife pretends she is her sophisticated twin sister to recover her husband's affections. It's not entirely an original version of "Two-Faced Woman" because the twin sister actually exists.

From the opening scene, a fight between the two leads, till the end, there is not a dull moment. The pace is incredibly fast, the supporting cast exceptional. Talmadge in a double role shows impeccable comic timing and gift for comedy that I didn't suspect after seeing her in "Intolerance". The effects to show the twins together are actually very good, and the shots of the double when the two sisters share a scene are clever enough to hide the fact that it is a double and not the actress. Ronald Colman is stripped of all the weight of being an "Actor" that he acquired through the 1930s, and which is plainly in sight in "A Tale of Two Cities". Here he relaxes in front of the camera, and it shows. Great support comes from George K. Arthur as Colman's friend who works for the Embassy and takes care of monocles and the marmalade.

The copy shown at the Barbican was restored by the Library of Congress. Despite most of it being of very good quality, there were moments were the image nearly disappeared. I hope the source of the print is not the sole surviving copy. The film is about to be released on DVD through Kino in the US. It's a double bill with another Colman feature, "Her Night of Romance". I think sooner or later it will make way to my collection. But I hope they managed to mix and match prints to solve those problems.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

2010-03-01T00:09:00.008Z

I'm sure there was a time before I saw Howard Hawks' "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" but to be honest I don't remember. I also have no idea how many times have I seen it, but each time it gets better and better - and I just got the chance to see it where it belongs, on the big screen, in a beautiful print.

The film follows two friends travelling from New York to Paris on a ship and their love lives tangling and untangling at the sound of some great songs and the help of a diamond tiara. One of the friends is Lorelei Lee, a blonde keen to marry for money and the other is Dorothy Shaw, a brunette keen to marry for love. The film stars Marilyn Monroe as Lorelei, Jane Russell as Dorothy and Charles Coburn and the supporting cast includes the delightful Norma Varden as Coburn's wife (the queen of obnoxious women on screen). These latter two are key in helping setting the comedic tone of the film. Norma Varden's obsession with diamonds made me think that she might have been a Lorelei herself in younger days. Coburn gives one of his most memorable performances and certainly the one I remember him for (well, that and the one in "The Lady Eve"). Another cast member that deserves some mention is the young kid, George Wilson. One of those wise beyond his years sort of kid, he's clearly directed to be as innocent and yet as keen on Marilyn as all the others. It's a credit to both him and Hawks that he succeeds.

Watching Jane Russell I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for her. She's very good and she was the main star at the time of filming (doubt me? She's top billed over Marilyn). She's funny and energetic, delivering some of the best lines of the film, as when she turns to the recently engaged Lorelei and tells her she doubts her future father-in-law would let her commit matrimony with her son. She particularly shines when she's imitating Marilyn in the court scene or in the gym number when she's surrounded by many semi-naked men who seem to have no interest whatsoever in her. But does anyone really remembers her here? Marilyn runs away with the film. It's one of her best performances, and I would say the template for the dumb blonde who turns out not to be as dumb as all that. She's funny, sexy and far clever than anyone but her friend gives her credit for. She has some delicious moments, when she predicts exactly to the minute how long she needs with a man to get from him what she wants or how she blackmails the head waiter to seat a particular gentleman on her dinner table. But the best is the excellent "Diamonds are a girl's best friend". She's so at ease, so perfect, and finishes by provoking her former fiancee (poor thing, never really got a chance...). Actually, his reaction before the show made me think that there might be more than meets the eye, and that perhaps this is a coded striptease number, like the one in "Gilda".

The film is now approaching 60 and despite being hardly unknown, it deserves some reassessment. It's pure joy and it feels much younger than its years. Like the men in the film, you can't take your eyes away from the "two little girls from Little Rock".

Stanwyck in noir II: Cry Wolf (1947)

2010-02-21T13:45:00.004Z

When Sandra Marshall (Stanwyck) arrives in Mark Cadwell's estate and claims that she is his recently deceased nephew's widow, he is not very pleased and seems to be hiding something. Perhaps something about the circumstances of her husband's death? Her young sister-in-law on the other hand takes an instant liking to the new arrival whom she sees as friend who might release her from her uncle's oppressive rule.

In theory the above would be a good starting point for any film noir. True, this is not the most imaginative of settings: the stranger who arrives in a house full of secrets is hardly new. And yet the film fails abysmally. While Stanwyck does her best and is convincing as the newcomer exploring the household's secrets, there are three main factors on why the film doesn't hold.

First in the list must be Peter Godfrey, the director. Based on his IMDb credits, I imagine he would be nearly forgotten if it weren't for three films he did with Barbara Stanwyck: "Christmas in Connecticut" in 1945 and "Cry Wolf" and "The Two Mrs Carrolls" in 1947. The last is by far the best, and while I know "Christmas in Connecticut" is a personal favourite of many, it didn't do it for me at all. He seems to have been one of those directors who populated the studio system, doing what they were told to do without any imagination. He simply picks the script and does it by numbers. For a thriller the tension never amounts to much (unlike in "The Two Mrs Carrolls") despite a few attempts in that direction.

The second problem is casting. There are two obvious casting errors. One is Geraldine Brooks who plays the young sister-in-law. She was obviously been groomed by WB for stardom but someone along the way forgot to notice that the girl couldn't act. She is irritating, but in her defence her part is a bit thankless. Then there is Errol Flynn. At this stage you may want to stop reading, as I will discuss some of the plot. His casting is a clear attempt to play him against type. He was getting older, the drinking was clearly leaving traces on his face, and he wanted to prove himself as an actor. Two years later he would do the same in "That Forsyte Woman" (which I haven't seen yet). All that is fine, but it doesn't work; and for two reasons. Flynn's charm on screen depended massively on his ability of not taking himself too serious. But in 1943 he was accused of rape and suddenly saw his life turned upside down. Sadly, despite being cleared, his life and career were never the same again, in particular that infectious presence was gone and with it the ability of engaging with the audience. His range was not very wide and his confidence was probably low and the mix of all this produces a hybrid performance of menacing and dull insecurity. Five years earlier I suspect he would have been menacing because of his spider-like charm. He might have been a deadly villain, had he been allowed him to play one. More important than that, Flynn's casting is an issue because it either highlighted or caused the most serious problem with the film - the script.

Up to this film Flynn had been always the hero. Yet here there is a clear attempt to darken his image and I suspect that someone at WB got cold feet with this. Starting as Stanwyck's antagonist and the film's villain, a twist in the script says otherwise and suddenly there is a forced happy ending with the leading lady. Where Bogart was allowed to go dark, Flynn wasn't. And maybe a better actor would have pulled it off, but as the film stands it's just a curious failure with a good Stanwyck performance.

The Queen of Spades (1949)

2010-02-16T23:18:00.004Z

Adapted from a short story by Alexander Pushkin, "The Queen of Spades" tells a story of obsession with a magic sequence of cards that is unbeatable. On one side, there is a poor army engineer that wants it, on the other an elderly countess that he suspects knows the secret. The engineer is played by Anton Walbrook, who I hardly recognised without a moustache and with a wig, while Edith Evans is the countess, aged beyond the actress' years.

A slightly forgotten film, I had heard much praised about it. After watching it I wasn't entirely convinced it deserved as much as it is showered with. Like the short story that it adapts, the film doesn't come fully to live until the leads face each other. There is a good "flashback" (there is no guarantee they are the actual events as Walbrook reads them from a book) that tells of how the countess may have come in possession of the secret of the cards, but nothing ever sparkles until the confrontation between the two characters in a fantastic scene, incredibly well written, directed and acted - note how Edith Evans never utters a word, how you can't be entirely sure of what she's thing but how you still side with her. Before that she indulges a bit in grand dame-isms but nothing too serious. Anton Walbrook didn't always convinced me, but I can't entirely put my finger in it. Still, his performance is good, and improves as the film progresses.

After the confrontation, three sequences in succession take you into a much darker film, which is really what is all about. So far it was filler. In the first, we are revealed the secret. This is the proof, should you need one, that cinema is also experienced through sound. We never see anything, but we hear plenty. After this, obsession becomes the dominant chord and the ending is inevitable, but oh so good.

La Dama y la Muerte (2009)

2010-02-14T22:14:00.000Z

A hilarious animated short that I hope will get the Oscar. Death and some doctors battle for the life of a dear old lady, but no one has asked her for her opinion.

Official website here where you can see the short itself (direct link here).

Pre-code Norma Shearer: Let Us Be Gay (1930) and Strangers May Kiss (1931)

2010-02-13T19:15:00.006Z

Immediately after the success of "The Divorcee" in April 1930, MGM kept Norma Shearer very busy, releasing four more films before the end of 1931: "Let us be Gay"and "Strangers May Kiss", which I will be talking about, "A Free Soul" (which I briefly discussed here) and "Private Lives". Uniting them is Shearer as a modern woman trying her best to enjoy life and sexual freedom. And she is convincing, refusing to be the little woman waiting for her husband to come home. I like that very much. I think is the reason why I have got so much into Pre-codes over the last few years.

First a disclaimer. I watched "Let us be Gay" a few weeks ago, so if I do get any detail wrong please feel free to correct me. Shearer plays a homely housewife who thinks she is happily married until the day her husband mistress comes and pays her a visit. After that she kicks him out, liberates herself, puts on some sexy gowns and is a hit with men. So much that an old friend (played by Marie Dressler) asks her to come and seduce her granddaughter's latest conquest, an unsuitable match who happens to be Shearer's ex.

The film falls flat. It is clearly an attempt to replicate "The Divorcee", with several similarities in the story department but much less interesting. In addition to which, the film is badly shot. There are sequences which aren't properly framed and I remember at least an instance where the camera focus on an empty room for a few seconds before anyone bothers to come in. It is a bit amateurish for any major Hollywood studio by 1930, but especially MGM. The ending is also a cop-out (again, like "The Divorcee"). There are two interesting things in the film that should be noted, sadly none enough to sustain interest. The first is Norma's look during the first act of the film. She really is an ugly duckling, with no make-up, the sort of thing Bette Davis became famous for a few years later. For a star of her size at that stage it was an interesting and perhaps brave and calculated choice. The second thing worth noting is Marie Dressler as the old lady, slightly deaf, stubborn and very, very funny. It's really a pity that the script doesn't make more of her. She was a wonderful actress and the more films of hers I watch, the more I want to watch.

A bit better but still drawing too much from "The Divorcee" is "Strangers May Kiss". I was particularly keen on this one because of a couple of clips that appeared in Pre-code documentaries. The problem with that is that, out of context anything can sound much better or much worst that what it actually is. Here Shearer is a young successful woman of 21 (if they say so...) who's having a romance with a foreign correspondent with itchy feet. When he is posted in Mexico, she goes with him, but when he gets a new assignment, he decides likes his freedom too much for her to come with him. Heartbroken she turns loose. I was quite disappointed on how it all turned out in the end, but I am not sure if it's not just me.

The film was a bit of a let down from what I expected, but is never less than enjoyable. Shearer provides exactly the same part, same speeches and same poses than before but in a brand new wardrobe. The script is a bit better, which is probably why it works better. Adding to the film's interest is Robert Montgomery's character- He is the loyal, devout, slightly drunk friend who keeps wanting to marry Shearer and keeps being refused. Witty, charming but invisible in the leading lady's eyes, would I be reading too much into assuming that he really is a closeted character? Possibly, but the thought occurred to me several times. There are also a few good lines, one of which compares women to drinks (and which I loved) but that would reveal too much if I quoted it here.

All in all, I really like Norma Shearer's screen persona in the early 1930s, even if I don't always like the films. I think "The Divorcee" and "Private Lives" are gems, but I probably won't rush to see any of the other three again. I would like to see her remaining Pre-codes though.

A personal idiosyncrasy, impulse buying and Lego games

2010-02-12T23:35:00.010Z

I don't care that much for computer games. My parents only got a computer when I was already 18, which was probably way too late to get into them (my brother, who's younger, loves them). I did have two moments of weakness that lasted a few months while I was still at University. Nevertheless, I am not trained and lack the eye-hand coordination required to play them. Getting bored quite easily probably when it doesn't progress at the speed I think is appropriate doesn't help either.

A few days ago I bought 2 Lego games (oh yeah, I am that childish) on promotion to play on my brother's PS3 (which currently lies about 3000km from where I write this and I get to see it and my brother about twice a year, I should add). It was half impulse buy and the other half a mix of several people mentioning they were quite fun and want to own them there and then. Impulse buying and the "there and then" is the reason my DVD and book collections keep growing out of control.

So far, it's bad, but it gets worst. At the same time I saw one of the games I was buying on PC format for a very small amount. Of course I went back today and got it. This is not an isolated problem. At this stage I should mention that I have bought 3 different versions of Disney's "Sleeping Beauty" on DVD - a Pan and Scan (donated to said brother), which was replaced by a French widescreen DVD and then a UK release because the French had the extras dubbed. Thankfully I managed to bypass the 2009 reissue, so I am improving slightly with age. I have on more than occasion got a second copy of a book because I "damaged" the first one a bit too much for my liking. Most people would question why I used the word "damaged" at all. This has also improved, thankfully. But I still managed to buy the same game twice! Which I have now played for an hour. I am not bored but I am frustrated. Partly because I keep getting killed cause I can't move fast enough; partly because the instructions are wrong and partly because I accidentally do things I can't undo. It's all very irritating, but I am hoping I shall pursue it...

It (1927)

2010-01-29T23:55:00.005Z

Whatever "it" really is, I'm afraid "It" lacks it. Oh, I know a lot of people like the film, and I admit there are funny moments, but as a whole the film feels too much like an assembled piece. What's worst, it was! Paramount made this after writer Elinor Glyn said that Clara Bow had "it", a notion arguably best translated as sex-appeal. The studio was clearly trying to cash in on their increasingly popular star. Despite being obvious, in case you missed it not only the first title card reminds you of this, but the writer herself appears later on to explain the audience what "it" is. The problem is that sexiness, sex-appeal, "it" or whatever you prefer to call it, usually depends on the person's unawareness. This is actually mentioned by Glyn. The moment someone becomes conscious of it and try to recreate it, or even keep it, it's lost. Since this is the only film I have seen with Clara Bow, I can't say if she ever had "it", but in my opinion she doesn't have it here. Furthermore, she's not even a terribly good actress - when I look at other major female stars of the late 1920s, such as Gish, Garbo or Marion Davies she pales by comparison. She has a fun twinkle in her eyes and an engaging smile but you need more than that.

Of course it doesn't help that the film has a very thin plot. It's the story of a sales girl going after her boss, while keeping her good name despite appearances. If done five years later and by MGM this would be the typical Joan Crawford vehicle, the sort that almost killed Crawford's career. Because it was built around Bow's persona, the rest of the cast is almost as bland as it can be, just to make sure no one would steal the picture from her. I was expecting much more out of this, but considering the film's popularity then and even now, it might be that this is simply not tailored for my taste.

PS - It's worth keeping an eye open for a very young Gary Cooper as a reporter.

Spring Fever (1927)

2010-01-24T23:53:00.006Z

Until about 20 minutes before it finished, "Spring Fever" was a disappointment and William Haines, the leading man, was really getting on my nerves. He was lacking that something special that made him so engaging in King Vidor's "Show People" the only other film of his I have seen. His character was arrogant and conceited and rather uninteresting really. As far as I found out, this was very much his screen persona. There were also some private jokes (possibly not that private) about his sexuality, including one in the very beginning which surely could not have gone unnoticed (it's mentioned in the IMDb forums for the film, if you're curious). However, I believe a comedy should be funny on its own merits and not because it winks at the audience or its camp value. There was also too much pantomime, not enough acting and certainly not enough wit.

The film is clearly a factory product to sell William Haines. Not a single risk is taken, not a tiny bit of imagination is allowed. It worked before, it will work again, seems to have been MGM's motto for this production. This affected the supporting cast. Lead by a rising Joan Crawford, all give quite good performances but none is on-screen long enough.

So what changed in the last 20 minutes? In fairness, not much. It's still predictable, still formulaic. It has a minor twist which even if it comes as a surprise, it will be a mild one. The difference is that it has charm. Joan Crawford has now a few key scenes and that counteracts Haines' excesses. And they act together. It's a joint effort, not a star-vehicle. Suddenly I stopped seeing the gay guy and his fag-hag (Haines and Crawford were very good friends off-screen) and actually saw a romantic couple. And for those last few scenes the film clicked into place. If you want proof, look at the titles in the hotel room - they're actually funny and witty.

Best Film Poster Ever?

2010-01-17T22:19:00.002Z

Is this the best film poster ever? I just found it online and thought it irresistible.

Boy Meets Girl (1938)

2010-01-17T00:46:00.003Z

A good comedy should look effortless. The dialogue and situations should come out as if such situations occurred daily in every day life, no matter how preposterous they are. That's essential. It's also elusive and bloody hard to achieve. To write good comedy is much harder than to write good drama. Then there is something as trying too hard. Writers and directors with no feel for it try to emulate successful films, often wasting good actors in the process. Of course, in such cases the material doesn't hold up. The dialogue is uninspired and forced; the situations are formulaic; the timing flops. All of these are present in the worst James Cagney film I have seen to date, Lloyd Bacon's "Boy Meets Girl" and serious contender to the worst comedy produced by Hollywood in the 1930s and 40s. I use the word "comedy" loosely...

Starring James Cagney and Pat O'Brien as two scheming screenwriters and Ralph Bellamy as their studio producer, this is an aimless film. When the two protagonists find out that a waitress at the studio is about to have a baby (she's a single mum, but there's Hays code justification for the unfortunate situation) they decide to show him growing on screen (reality TV before its time, this is actually one of the good ideas that the film had) in order to save their careers and to undermine that of an actor of westerns they despise. There are a few more twists and turns to the plot, which never slows down, with one chaotic moment after another. There are few films which can sustain this, such as Howard Hawks' "Bringing up Baby" and "His Girl Friday" or Billy Wilder's "One, Two, Three". As you might have figure it out, this one can't. I think this was meant to be a satire on Hollywood but it lacks the bite of "Show People" or "Sunset Blvd." and simply isn't funny. It also meant to be a screwball comedy but it's too chaotic in its own chaos. The screenwriters create havoc just for the fun of it. To be honest, those two characters should have been fired and blacklisted and never allowed to work in the industry again. It really surprised me to find out that the film was written by the same people responsible for "My Favorite Wife"!

Another massive issue I had with the film was the casting and acting. Cagney and O'Brien are the stars and are clearly uninterested (or knew how weak the film was). They either look bored or try too hard, and their usual chemistry falls flat. However, bad as that is there is worst. Ralph Bellamy's character is too stupid (a not too subtle attack on film producers) but he does his best. He fails. The absolute low point is the romantic couple. She is Marie Wilson and her dizzy waitress got on my nerves. He is Bruce Lester and he was even more irritating (although much less screen time) than she was, playing the stiff upper lip Englishman who wants to break into the movies. Both also needed to rethink their careers, as neither could act.

There are two positives to the film. The first is the actor that plays the cowboy. He is actually playing a satire of himself and his screen persona and while his lack of acting ability is painfully obvious, he should get brownie points for fair play. The second is the best thing in the whole film: Ronald Reagan's few scenes as a radio announcer at a film première. He's funny, relaxed and natural. Everything the rest of the cast isn't!

The Simpsons turn 20

2010-01-14T16:37:00.004Z

The little yellow ones are 20 years old today. I still clearly remember when they arrived on Portuguese TV, a year or two later after the US premiere. I guess it's telling of my age - but the scary thought is this: those who were born on the same year as "The Simpsons" premiered, are halfway through their University degrees. Makes you feel old, doesn't it?

The Mad Miss Manton (1938)

2010-01-06T23:12:00.009Z

A few years ago WB released a Barbara Stanwyck collection which included a few unknown and strange choices but did not include perhaps the best of her films in their library - "The Mad Miss Manton", a 1938 RKO comedy. They have since relegate it to their Archives where they charge films at $20 plus tax plus shipping. However, they don't ship outside the US (why?!) nor do they allow download if you're not in US soil (again, why?!) so fat chance of me ever getting it like that. Fortunately, the rights of RKO films have been licensed to a multitude of companies all over the world and, in France, Éditions Montparnasse has released a passable DVD release (to be honest, I wonder how much different it is from the WB Archive) at a much more agreeable €10 each. And it arrived today, providing me with a few good laughs and a smile throughout.

Barbara Stanwyck is Melsa Manton, a socialite who finds a dead body and calls the police, only to find out that said dead body had disappeared. Intent to make a point, she proceeds, along with a flock of socialite friends, to play detective. There is also a newspaper editor (Henry Fonda) that sets himself out to discredit her and proceeds to change his mind, deciding instead that she must marry him. Scripted by one of the Epstein brothers (who co-wrote, among others, "Casablanca") it's full of quick, witty dialogue - I suggest a visit to IMDb's page of memorable quotes at your own peril, as a couple may give away a bit of the plot. The film also works well as mystery, unlike "Footsteps in the Dark", in that you really can't guess who the murderer is until the very end. Not that matters; it's pure McGuffin.

Stanwyck and Fonda have great chemistry together, as anyone who has seen "The Lady Eve" knows. But the dynamic here is quite different, for two reasons. The obvious first is that he pursues her, rather than the opposite. The second is that none of the characters need to fall from their pedestal or let their hard façade drop in order to be happy, as they do in the Sturges' film. The characters' romance is far gentler in tone, perhaps less original than in the latter film, but still brought to life with charm by the leads. Hattie McDaniel delivers one of her best performances as the untamed, hilarious and scene-stealer maid. She has some of the best moments of the film including refusing to serve food to her employer's guests and throwing water on Henry Fonda face and then saying she was only obeying orders. I have always a soft heart for Hattie and it's a pity that she was hardly ever allowed to so something different. I know only of one exception, "In this our Life". Finally, I have to say I love the "character" of the flock of Melsa Manton's friends. There are quite a few of them, eight or so, but they do act as a single character. I didn't recognised any of the faces, but they were perhaps the most original screwball element of the film and for that they deserve some credit.

PS - Doesn't poster (above) have the most unflattering portrait of Barbara Stanwyck ever?

Errol Flynn's comedies II: Footsteps in the Dark (1941)

2010-01-02T21:20:00.009Z

After "Four's a Crowd", Errol Flynn's next comedy was Lloyd Bacon's "Footsteps in the Dark", a comedy-mystery where a gentleman leads a double life as a crime writer. Then someone dies and he is convinced that it was murder. By the time the police agrees with him, he is one of the main suspects and he has to clear his name.
By the early 1940s most comedies had a slight less madcap/screwball edge than they had had in the mid-1930s. Humour relies less on the mad antics of a few characters. Still there are a few scenes of chaos (when Flynn tries to persuade his family of his innocence when seen with another woman) and a police detective that is not too far removed from just a few years earlier, but it doesn't feel the same. Towards the end the film becomes less of a comedy a more of a mystery, but if you pay attention you can find the real culprit - this isn't really in Agatha Christie's league. The film's most obvious flaw is that Flynn's character starts knowing much more than the police. When he believes that dead man has been murdered, he knows of a motive (and so does the audience) that no one else does. Knowledge is power, but it doesn't always make good drama.

Errol Flynn is fun to watch and you wonder if he really took himself seriously at this stage of his life, but that never really gets in the way of his performance. On the contrary, he seems to make that a strength. He knew he could never be Sherlock Holmes, but he certainly did take a hint or two from William Powell's Nick Charles. Brenda Marshall was surprisingly good, much better than in "The Sea Hawk". She can be quite funny, in particular in the scene where she and her mother go to see her "rival" at the theatre. The rest of the film cast is top notch. Lucille Watson is hilarious as Flynn's suspicious mother in law; Alan Hale and Allen Jenkins are Flynn's sidekicks (well, Hale is the chief of police) and Ralph Bellamy does something other than his usual "second banana".

Child of Manhattan (1933)

2009-12-22T23:26:00.005Z

I watched "Child of Manhattan" yesterday. I had never heard of it until I saw the December programme for the Portuguese Cinematheque. Even the fact that it's based on a Preston Sturges' play wasn't enough. Since I am here for the holidays, of course I went to see it. I was pleasantly surprised. The more old films I see the more I am convinced that deep down in the archives lie some hidden gems. This is one of them.

This is a charming pre-code where a millionaire falls in love with a dancer and makes her his lover. When she gets pregnant he decides to secretly marry her. It's all about being a nice person and doing the right thing, and how two rights might almost do a wrong. If I say more I'll spoil it. Although it doesn't feel like a stage play, it has a coherence that sadly too often seems to be lacking in early 1930s films.

Nancy Carroll is the leading lady, playing it with touching sympathy. Until I saw "Hot Saturday" earlier this year I had never heard of her. Now I would like to see more of her films. The leading man was not as inspired, but I can live with that, especially as I could believe the two characters loved each other. Jane Darwell as the girl's mother in a couple of scenes and Jessie Ralph as her friend steal the show and got my biggest laughs.

Two-strip Technicolor and The Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933)

2009-12-21T00:22:00.007Z

On Saturday I watched my first two-strip Technicolor film, Michael Curtiz's "The Mystery of the Wax Museum" (1933), despite owning "Doctor X" on DVD since it came out. The film itself is a mix of pre-code dialogue and early talkie horror/mystery. It works much better on the pre-code side, mainly because of Glenda Farrell who despite third billing is the de facto lead of the film. She's funny, fast and naughty, and doesn't hurt that Frank McHugh is there to support her. As a horror/mystery it left me cold, probably because I knew the twist before I watched the film.

However, what fascinated me the most about the film was the fact that it was in colour (well, sort of...). This was the last major studio production of a two-strip Technicolor film, a process that only registered red and green (the three-strip would add blue). By 1933 Disney had successfully released "Flowers and Trees" and this one had to look bad. Because it actually does look bad. The colours are rather awkward to look at. It almost looks like it has been discoloured by the sun. The flesh tones are pink, but not the right sort; and there's way too much green for New York. Not too far away from colourization of a black and white film. Fair enough, this particular film also had the misfortune of being considered lost once and the copy that resurfaced was not in the best shape. I saw it projected rather than on a TV, in a dark cinema rather than a bright living room. Even that didn't help. Furthermore, the fact that this wasn't shot in black and white also takes out all atmospheric elements that a film like this needs - it just looks way too bright. Maybe in a comedy it would have worked better, but a horror film?! It flopped, I need not add, and I am not surprised.

The Innocents (1961)

2009-12-20T01:03:00.004Z

Don’t be fooled by all the gothic thriller trickery of it, this is a film about sex, although you may not notice it at first. To be more precise, it’s about the consequences of either repressing or following your urges.

Based on Henry James’ “The Turn of the Screw”, the film follows the daughter of a vicar, Miss Giddens (Kerr), who is offered a position as governess of two children in an isolated country house. She takes the job half in love with an employer that she isn’t supposed to see again, someone who has a reputation as a charmer. Once in the house she becomes first disturbed and then obsessed with her predecessor, Miss Jessel, and her lover Quint. Both are now dead, and since they both had such strong influence over the children, she comes to believe that they are possessing them.

Kerr’s character is clearly someone whose prospects of marrying are nil, probably like those of her predecessor. Completely frustrated – and to be sure of that just look at her childish enthusiasm at the interview or at the mention of her employer – she becomes fascinated by the discoveries she makes about the lustful, obsessive and ultimately tragic sexual relation between the former governess and Quint. Here lies the wonderfulness of the film – is she imagining it, or is it actually happening? We are never given a clear answer (thankfully!). Her reactions are excessive, and go against her, but the other character’s reactions are vague enough to give us some reason to believe that it may not be her just imagination.

At the core is the issue of Victorian morals where all sex outside marriage and without the purpose of procreation is wrong. Me has a feeling that Henry James didn’t really agree with that. On the surface, the upright, repressed, virginal Miss Giddens seems to be what the children need as an example, but her actions and reactions to events undermine this, despite the fact that you know her heart is in the right place. On the other hand, while not be the best role models, the lustful, “sinning” Miss Jessel and Quint appear to be more satisfying parental figures, and haven’t harmed the children at all. I go as far as suggest that the evidence even suggests otherwise. Furthermore, Kerr’s need to “do good” to others, whether or not they want it, is also clearly under fire, as the audience perhaps goes with the housekeeper’s view that sometimes is worse to wake up a child from a dream.

Enhancing all this is the joint effect of sound, music, décor editing and cinematography. And this is where you get the more atmospheric elements, where these transgressions take more obvious gothic elements. The light as Deborah Kerr arrives at the house contrasting with the darkness of the final shots; that beautiful house that suddenly turns into a nightmare of secrets and the music that tells as much as the actors’ faces. Most of all I love the fact that is a black and white cinemascope film.

I think it was no accident that Deborah Kerr, an actress who had a gift for repressing (e.g. “Separate Tables”, “Black Narcissus”) or exposing sexual urges (e.g. “Tea and Sympathy” and rather more obviously, “From Here to Eternity”) according to the need of her part. She excels in the role, and I have stated here, this is one of my favourite performances of hers. I really can’t think of any other actress who could carry the film so well.

I don’t think either children were that good, but I think Martin Stephens who plays Miles, the young boy, needs a mention under trivia: he seems to have cornered the polite scary kid really well, since in the previous year he was in “The Village of the Damned”.

Show People (1928)

2009-12-11T00:09:00.006Z

History is written by the victors. In cinema, it’s those who become more successfully, either critically or commercially. Billy Wilder and Preston Sturges demise of Mitchell Leisen meant that until recent he wasn’t held in much consideration. Yet, there is a more famous example. Citizen Kane as everyone knows was partly based on the life of Randolph Hearst; consequently Susan Alexander Kane, the character’s second wife and failed opera singer, must have been based on Marion Davies, Hearst’s mistress. This has lead to the myth that Davies was poor actress.

I have heard many arguments against this opinion, but had no opinion as I had never seen any of her films. Whatever the truth, the shadow of Susan Alexander Kane will forever fall over Davies and if nothing else because her films are quite hard to come by. This week I got a chance to see at the BFI one of her celebrated comedies “Show People” and now I am inclined to agree with those who think that Susan is not a fair portrait of Marion. She was hilarious.

King Vidor’s “Show People” is, after “Sunset Blvd.”, arguably the biggest satire Hollywood ever made of itself. It’s equally sharp, but the bitterness is not yet – sound has yet to come and erase the first generation of demigods. This is the story of an aspiring actress, Peggy Pepper, who becomes a hit in slapstick comedies and metamorphoses herself into Patricia Pepoire, the serious thespian she always wanted to be. It’s not too hard to fast forward twenty years to the late forties and see in Patricia, Norma Desmond. In fact, the film’s story is loosely based on Gloria Swanson’s path to stardom.

The screening I attended was introduced by Kevin Brownlow who pointed out several of the in-jokes that recur into the movie. Some are obvious like the John Gilbert character, some of the faces doing cameos (Chaplin, Gilbert himself, etc.), some not entirely obscure, such as the sets that resemble (or maybe are the same) as Vidor’s hit “The Big Parade”. Many, however, are lost to me, and I imagine to all but a very, very small minority of the audience. This is a tragedy, as it is obvious a contemporary audience would have got the jokes, thus making the film twice as funny. Kevin Brownlow told us he had one of the crew watching the film and telling many of these jokes. I would love to have been there. My favourite moment has to be when aspiring Peggy meets Marion Davies herself. She was not impressed.

Supporting Davies is another forgotten star of the late silent period – William Haines. Haines’ career was partly boycotted by Louis B. Mayer because the (fairly) openly gay actor didn’t want to have a fake marriage preferring to live with his partner. Like Davies he lasted a few years into sound and then bowed out and pursued an alternative career. In this film, despite his leading man status, and the obvious chemistry between the leads, he is really there to support the main star, to the point where nearly disappears for most of the second half of the film. But in his early scenes there is certainly an energy and a presence there that made me curious to see more of him. And I might have too much hindsight, but after his the way he moves onscreen during his first scene, wasn’t anyone suspicious of his bachelorhood?

Virtue (1932)

2009-12-06T00:27:00.005Z

There are a few Pre-code films that really pushed the envelope with either plot or characters, like "Men in White" or "Penthouse", but because of one thing or another are hardly seen or talked about today. "Virtue" is definitely one of them - Carole Lombard is a prostitute (you are left with no doubt about that, believe me) who meets a taxi driver (Pat O'Brien). They marry and on their wedding night he founds out about her past. After the initial shock, he decides to stay. And this only the first half an hour, and later of course he wonders if his wife is not back to her old ways. On top of this, there is great dialogue, particularly in the beginning, and a veiled reference to an abortion ("nervous breakdown") made by one of Lombard's former colleagues.

Lombard is quite good throughout and Mayo Methot as her friend steals the show with her final scene. (On a point of trivia, she was to be the third Mrs Bogart). The first half is well done and well written. But the film has one flaw that was too much for me. The second half's plot line seems to be glued to rather than built from the beginning. In particular, the scene that starts it is so bad that I was in no doubt about what was really happening - something that the audience is told a few minutes later. To be honest, I almost gave up on the film at that moment. It was lazy writing and bad acting. It's a pity, as I think if someone had put a bit more effort into solving both problems, the film would be as talked about as some of Stanwyck's more notorious films.

Mitchell Leisen/Olivia de Havilland on DVD (R2)

2009-11-30T22:47:00.008Z

I was quite pleased when I found out today that the nice people at Universal in Spain are releasing on DVD both collaborations of director Mitchell Leisen and actress Olivia de Havilland: "Hold Back the Dawn" and "To Each His Own".
Yes, it's a R2 release, but if by now you still not multiregion capable, shame on you.
It seems both titles and "Remember the Night" have been released a couple of months ago as exclusives to a very famous chain of department stores there. Fortunately it seems the two I don't own will be on general release as of Thursday. This certainly has put a smile on my face and I shall be buying them soon.

PS - Mine!

Three-Cornered Moon (1933)

2009-11-27T23:18:00.003Z

My copy of the Claudette Colbert DVD collection arrived a few days ago, making me very happy. "Three-Cornered Moon" is earliest film in it, made in 1933 as Claudette Colbert was becoming an established star and is advertised as the first screwball comedy. Looking at the most relevant examples of the genre (such as "Twentieth Century", "My Man Godfrey", "Bringing up Baby") it certainly fits that bill. It has only one little flaw: it isn't funny.

In fairness, the last 20 minutes or so are an improvement, but I think it took me nearly an hour to sketch a smile (the film is around 80 minutes long). As a comparison, when I watched "I Met Him in Paris" a few days before, which is part of the same collection, I laughed beginning to end, despite its predictability. But back to "Moon" - a rich, silly family in NY finds out they're bankrupt and now they must go earn a living. It's the depression, so it isn't easy. Only the daughter (Colbert) seems to have some sense, except in her choice of man. You can fill the rest.

I can't recommend this one to anyone - it might put them off old films forever. But this box also has Lubitsch's "Bluebeard's Eight Wife", Leisen's "No Time for Love" and the above mentioned "I Met Him in Paris" with a wonderful performance from Melvyn Douglas. I haven't seen the other two films ("Maid of Salem" and "The Egg and I") but these three are great fun, with the first two somewhat neglected classics.

7th Heaven (1927)

2009-11-22T01:01:00.012Z

To describe the first 70 minutes of this love story between Diane, a prostitute, and Chico, a sewer cleaner, I truly can only use superlatives. It lives entirely to its reputation as a masterpiece, and probably doesn't do it justice. You can feel (rather than just see) these two beings falling in love with each other, complete with the little things, from absolute despair (they meet when he saves her from an abusing sister and later prevents her from committing suicide) to absolute faith in each other. The story is set just before and during WWI, and the long sequence that ends that first 70 minutes is of such intensity and intimacy even if a hardcore cynic like me was touched by it.

This part of the film is full of little gems: the pace of the story, told with great economy and not stopping at irrelevant moments; the beauty of the sets, in particular the stairs going up to the flat (they very much look like a single set which is amazing); the lighting which makes the film look gorgeous; the sister; Charles Farrell's facial expressions which reminded me of those of a friend and Janet Gaynor's wounded animal performance, something I quite liked in "Sunrise" but is so perfect for her character here - her best two moments being the sequence after Charles Farrell saves her and the sequence after the policeman leaves the flat.

And then the war comes, and while the action scenes aren't bad, they break the pace and change the atmosphere of the film. From a couple of intimate sets - we have spent most of the previous half an hour in the sewer cleaner's apartment - we are now in the open, in fields, in the trenches, in war rooms. Inevitably, the connection between the audience and the characters changes, and in my case the magic was gone, with the final sequence delivering a final blow in my interest. If you have seen the film, it's not the actual ending that I object to. It's the message that it conveys. Up to that point the cornerstone of the film had been a relation based on faith between two human beings, and suddenly God invades what it should never had invaded. Borzage did this later again in the ghastly "Strange Cargo" (which my flatmate loved, so "ghastly" is a very personal opinion). Yet, in his films I liked the most - "Mannequin", "The Mortal Storm", and to a slightly lesser extend "Three Comrades" and "The Shining Hour" (and I am excluding "Desire" since that one is more Lubitsch than Borzage) - he never crosses that barrier which is to me certain death. And I really regret that he crossed it here.

Test Pilot (1938)

2009-11-18T23:50:00.005Z

Clark Gable. Myrna Loy. Spencer Tracy. And below the credits, Lionel Barrymore. Could this be one of the main MGM productions for 1938?! (yeah, I know, sarcasm doesn't translate very well into writing). Pity is that on occasion they went for the cheap solution and had back-projection instead of outdoor scenes. Which makes even less sense when considering that the shots before and after were outdoor ones. Little things like that bug me a lot - I mean, either do everything in a studio, or do it outside. Mix and match is not really the best option.

However, this is not the only problem in this story of a dare-devil pilot and the ones around him that love him. Clark Gable was not a great actor. He was very much a "personality" as they used to say. And in the previous year, in another film with Myrna Loy, his attempt to be serious bombed at the box-office (the film is called "Parnell" and I have yet to see it). So MGM did what MGM did so well and reverted back to type, and in 1938 two Gable films, with Gable parts opened. One was "Too Hot to Handle" and the other "Test Pilot". Both have Myrna Loy as the love interest. Neither excited me particularly. Gable's screen persona was the cad who reformed. On occasion he excelled ("Gone with the wind") but more often than not he was too unpleasant. And this belongs to the latter, to the point where I can't understand why anyone would stick around him.

Myrna Loy doesn't fare much better here. Except in her scenes with Tracy I failed to empathise with her - and you should, as she is supposed to be one of the emotional cores of the film. She looks pretty, oh so pretty, but inconsequential for most of the time. Perhaps is Gable, but with exception of "Manhattan Melodrama", all five pairings out of seven I have seen with the two of them left me cold. The exception is probably because of William Powell, with whom Loy had indeed great chemistry.

Then there's Spencer Tracy, who is the best thing in the whole film. His performance is subtle, discreet and more interestingly to a modern audience, somewhat of an oddity. You see, the film is built in such way that Tracy's character is in love with Gable's. The devotion, the looks, the tears (!). I never imagined Tracy playing gay, but he does it, and in a believable way. And by the way, this is past "male friendship" - just look at his last few lines in the film, his devotion, his jealousy of Myrna Loy, his scene in the fairground, his looks at Gable, and most of all, the way certain scenes are framed, with Tracy next to Loy when she's opening her heart to Gable. He's doing the same, except silently. Pity that Gable's character is so undeserving of the love the other two shower on him. I am wondering if this was Victor Fleming's intention. If it was, then my hat is off to him.

It is hard to tell if the script is at fault, or if it just fell flat in shooting and post-production. It doesn't seem to be any better or any worst than many others of the period. However, classic Hollywood was very similar at times to the modern one. It was a factory of films that believed that if you added all ingredients together you would make a great film. Then, as now, they forgot that a good film is more than the sum of its parts and its stars. And that's why "Test Pilot" fails. It has too many personalities and no personality.

Stanwyck in noir: The Two Mrs Carrolls (1947) and No Man of Her Own (1950)

2009-11-14T22:05:00.007Z

When people think of a femme fatale in film noir, I am sure at least half of them think of Barbara Stanwyck in her dreadful blonde wig and anklet in "Double Indemnity". However, she spent a lot of time in the land of noir, in films like "Sorry, Wrong Number", "The Strange Love of Martha Ivers" and the two that I am about to talk in a bit more detail. Sometimes the deadliest character, more often as the 40s turned into the 50s, she became the victim, like in "The Two Mrs Carrolls", or at least a victim of fate and circumstances, as in "No Man of Her Own". Personally, I like her more when she's a manipulative bitch ("Double Indemnity", "The File on Thelma Jordan").

"The Two Mrs Carrolls" is the only pairing of Bogart and Stanwyck. While on holiday, Geoffrey Carroll (Bogart) meets and falls in love with Sally Morton (Stanwyck). When she finds out he's married to an invalid she leaves him. After the death of the first Mrs Carroll, they marry and she inspires him to do some of his best work. All goes well until neighbour Alexis Smith comes into the scene and suddenly Sally starts suspecting things, but is unsure if it's all her imagination.

I have to admit I was completely drawn into the film. It has a well built element in suspense, which mounts quite well as the film progresses. It's clever enough to keep you wondering for a bit what is fact and what is fantasy. When you're certain - and you'll be before Sally, then it becomes a good cat and mouse game. Because of the second banana (i.e. the second male love interest) being just that, it contributes to absence of certainty about the ending. But it's not hard to see Hitchcock's influence in the film, especially "Rebecca" (the title reminiscent of the two Mrs de Winter) and "Suspicion" (a glass of milk as a key prop here as well). But while a good studio product, this is not in that league. If anything, the director's mark pales to WB 1940's style. Bogart wouldn't be my choice for this, but I was never his greatest fan. Still he pulls it off ok. Stanwyck does a bit more than in the following year's "Sorry, Wrong Number" which is quite pleasing. Alexis Smith is Alexis Smith trying her hardest to be an Hitchcock blonde. It's not a failure, but is not a success either. But my favourite is Ann Carter as the very quiet daughter who knows far more than she thinks - and that's a lot.

Mitchell Leisen's "No Man of Her Own" has elements of noir, but I am not entirely sure if that it can be as easily classified as "The Two Mrs Carrolls". Stanwyck plays a pregnant woman jilted by her lover (he gives her a train ticket and $5). On the train to San Francisco she meets a young woman, also pregnant, whose husband is taking her to meet her in-laws for the first time. Then the train crashes and there is a case of mistaken identity - that is, until the ex-lover returns.

While the film flows really well and I was really into it, I think something failed a bit. Considering how several things are presented in shades of grey throughout the film (I was left wondering how much Mrs Harkness knew), the ending is a tad too clean - Paramount or Leisen didn't seem willing to try to bend the rules a bit and give the audience something more satisfying (the closing voice-over is terrible). This is a pity, especially considering the engaging material. On the positive, I really liked the opening narration, suggesting marital problems but that ends with something slightly unexpected. Stanwyck and the supporting cast are great, especially Lyle Bettger as the ex-lover and Jane Cowl as the old Mrs Harkness. I still don't like John Lund, and considering that three of his most celebrated films (including his début) are by Mitchell Leisen, I'm wondering what were the director's feelings for his star.

In all, both films keep your attention, and both show Stanwyck still at her prime, nearly 20 years after the start of her film career. True, neither part is Phyllis Dietrichson, but then neither film is "Double Indemnity".

To Each His Own (1946)

2009-11-13T23:15:00.005Z

When she did “To Each His Own”, Olivia de Havilland was just under 30. Yet, for the first 15 minutes of the film what we see is a woman that is supposed, at worst, to be in her late 40s. What is interesting is how that make-up resembled Olivia, not aged 50, but aged 60. She beat her make-up artists’ worst predictions.

Of course what was at stake was not realism, but a quick way to let the audience know that this practical, pragmatic woman that spent her New Year’s Eve in a church rooftop during the Blitz, has given up the emotional part of her life. Then we have the start of a long flashback where all is explained to us. This is the story of a mother who gives away her love child after the father’s death in WWI, first forced, then nobly and then goes to the background and suffers in silence.

This is high quality melodrama, with full production values and acting to match. Mitchell Leisen delivers one fine film and more and more I believe he is an underrated director of post-Lubitsch comedies (not in the same league as Wilder or Sturges, but close) and romantic films (both comedies and dramas).

There’s some subtlety in the “villainess”, as you can sympathise with her, moreover, you are left wondering what you would do in her place. There’s also some ambiguity in Olivia’s character, as she becomes desperate to recover the child. Finally, there’s some realistic attitude towards sex, with Olivia knowingly seducing John Lund because he only has three hours before his license ends. Later we are presented with a positive example of women in business. Plus, I loved the ending. Interestingly, the film is scripted and produced by Charles Brackett, in one of his few non-Wilder collaborations of the 1940s. Brackett and Wilder reportedly started producing and directing their own scripts because of Leisen's treatment of their material, so I find it curious that suddenly the two are collaborating again. Its main flaw (only serious flaw?) is the casting of John Lund, who has systematically left me cold.

De Havilland, an actress that I like very much, won the first of her two Oscars for this. Partly, I suspect, it was a reward for her courage to fight the studio system. Partly because she suffers so much on screen, and the Academy loves that. I mean, how can they resist? Except that among the losers was Celia Johnson for “Brief Encounter” and that makes it one of the great injustices of the Oscars.

Thank you, I guess...

2009-11-12T23:00:00.005Z

5 films will be competing for an Oscar for Best Animated Film because of this. I guess there had to be SOME redeeming feature to it. Click on it to see it in a normal size - it doesn't improve though...

Edit: The film was "THE DOLPHIN - Story of a Dreamer".

Sunrise (1927) and how my taste has changed

2009-11-11T23:36:00.010Z

A few years ago Murnau's "Sunrise" got an extended run in one of Lisbon's arty cinemas and I got a chance to see it. To say that it bored the hell out of me is an understatement. I found the story uninteresting and other than the technical side of it I could not understand why people were raving so much about it.

The film is a parable and that's part of the reason I didn't like it. The characters have no name, they are generic, a Man and his Wife and the Woman from the City that tempts him off the path of virtue (he didn't seem to mind that much).

Tonight I saw it again at the BFI. I was pleasantly surprised. Ok, it's unevenly paced, with the beginning and the ending moving much faster that the longer city section that at times seems to take forever. But I quite like the German Expressionism feel of it and the trick shots, especially one where George O'Brien is thinking of his seductress and superimposed images of her seem to kiss him and hug him. Janet Gaynor provoked mixed feelings, but I quite liked how she mimicked a wounded animal after her husband's attempt to kill her. George O'Brien too was great as the big beast that indulges in lustful and murderous thoughts, but the moment he shaves and becomes tamed he looses part of his appeal. Best of all is Margaret Livingston as the Woman from the city. She's so sexy and deadly, and I love her face in the end.

I still don't agree with all the superlatives people use to classify it, but I have mellowed substantially my dislike of the film. Moreover, I quite liked it at times. According to some quick online search, I must have seen the film around 4 years ago. So, have my tastes changed that much? Possibly - In those 4 years I got to see many more silents, including some of the most acclaimed such as "The Crowd", "Greed", "Birth of a Nation", "Intolerance" and "The Wind" among many others - and looking forward to "Show People" in December. So am I now fluent enough in a language I hated (a bit like English, but that's another story) and therefore can appreciate it better? Unlike English, I still don't like it a lot, but I am getting there. But tonight's screening had a side effect: I am now quite keen to watch the Borzage BFI DVDs that I got from Amazon not long ago and that are full of Janet Gaynor. As for "Sunrise" maybe there's hope - maybe third time's lucky.

Dracula (1931)

2009-10-31T22:10:00.005Z

"Dracula" on Halloween - how unimaginative... In my defence I would like to add it was the first time I saw it. I read Bram Stoker's book when I was 13 or 14 and I still recall the excitement the book provoked on me (possibly wouldn't have the same effect today). The film resembles it in little more than the characters' names. And what's worst, it left me bored and thinking I might have watched something else instead. Time has not been kind to it.

I think I could find reasons why I almost hated it in every scene. Here are a few: Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" over the opening credits; the hero, who is a dreadful bore; the gaps in the plot that are not explained (Lucy's death which is mention in passage much later or Van Helsing's staying behind at the end) suggesting a lot was left in the editing room floor; the cheapness of it all - Warner made it look good, Universal... well, not so. And of course, the main reason, Count Dracula himself, Bela Lugosi. The man can't act. The man is not menacing. There is too much silent film pantomime from him, and certainly way too many close-ups of his eyes that no longer produce the desired effect. I know a lot of people still love this film, but I am not one of them.

Tod Browning was actually able to do much better such as "Freaks" or "The Unknown" (I would love to see more of his Lon Chaney stuff, but alas, no DVD edition) so it does seem a wasted opportunity. I've heard the Spanish language version is actually superior, so I'll try to keep an eye for it. The sole redeeming feature, is Dwight Frye's performance of Renfield, an amalgamation of two characters from the book (one being the romantic hero).

Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

2009-10-29T20:25:00.007Z

I need to start this by saying that I like this film very much. I like it because of its amazing Technicolor cinematography, because of its colour palette, because of how dark it gets (especially in a few key scenes) and of course, because of Gene Tierney's beauty. I like it despite Cornel Wilde and Jeanne Crain, despite Gene Tierney's limited acting ability, despite Vincent Price irritating me somewhat in his early Fox years and despite Alfred Newman's quite loud score. I can't define any better why I like it, but I do. Maybe because there are a few close-ups of Gene Tierney in this film which, should you get a chance to see it in the cinema, are worth the price of admission.

The story is intriguing and catches you - a woman so obsessed with her father marries a man who resembles him. Each time that someone gets between them, she doesn't react very well. Plus the ending is a bit rushed. It sounds bad. It isn't. It grabs you. It is also not a horror film. And you never lose your sympathy for this woman who isn't quite all there. On the contrary, you see things from her angle. In fairness, she does have a point. Her husband clearly pays no attention to her, and seems to be quite oblivious to the thought of spending time alone together.

So again, does this explain why I like this film so much? I really don't know, I simply do. There's some magic somewhere, which is interesting as I usually find Stahl uninspired.

Perhaps it's the crossing between melodrama and film noir. At moments you can't tell if it's one, the other, both or neither. I like that mix of genres, it appeals to me. The genre rules are simultaneously obeyed, bent and broken. And then there is the cinematography. While watching the film last night at the BFI I was impressed with how large it looked, especially the close-ups (and I have seen my fair share of classics at that particular screen, more or less in that row). And above all else, the colours. Browns, blues and greens are everywhere. Her white against the green and the blue in the scene at the lake (you'll know which one...) - and her close-up in that scene. The blue slipper in the stairs scene - you'd never thought a shoe other than Cinderella's could be so cinematic. Some colours are natural (the film has plenty of location shots), some not, together in a very engaging and disturbing colour study. And you know that when realise that the only real red in sight is in Gene Tierney's lips. As quoted on the blurb, they are "as red as a witch's apple" - and you better believe it.

M. Poirot's residence

2009-10-27T21:33:00.005Z

Because I absolutely love Agatha Christie and David Suchet's definitive portrait of Poirot, here's one of the main images of the series - the block of flats posing as "Whitehaven Mansions". A few years ago I bumped into it by accident. More of London should be like this, beautifully Art Deco.

A quote by E. M. Forster

2009-10-22T20:42:00.006+01:00

We do not see what we do not seek.
E. M. Forster, What does it matter? A Morality

The above has become a favourite quote of mine purely by accident. About 12 years ago I gave a friend, as Christmas or birthday present, E. M. Forster's posthumous collection of short stories, The Life to Come and other stories. Later he came up with that quote. I searched my copy in vain for it. Nothing.

Now, for some reason just thought of it again, and thanks to Amazon's search I managed to locate it at last. It's part of the short story mentioned above, and can be found on page 166 of Penguin's blue cover classics series.

Bette Davis, 1937

2009-10-14T17:31:00.005+01:00

Bette Davis had four films opening in 1937. They are of unequal quality, contrasting massively with her consistent output over the next few years. In the first of these four, Michael Curtiz’s “Kid Galahad”, she is a fight promoter’s (Edward G. Robinson) girl l that falls for his latest boxing star. Second billed (for one of the last times), she delivers a good girl with a not-so-nice profession in a film that left me fairly indifferent either way. Robinson is the star and it shows - he’s given the grand finale in the tradition of the Warner school of Gangster films.
“Marked Woman” is the second, and her part and the film are slightly more interesting. She plays a club dancer (read prostitute) who rebels against someone who’s basically her pimp (who if I recall correctly has done something slightly naughty like murder). As retaliation he scars her. A prosecutor, played by up and coming Humphrey Bogart, persuades her to tell her tale. I quite like the ending, and Davis put up a fight for her make-up. By refusing to be as glamourised as the studio wanted, she probably made herself noticed to audiences as a brave performer. As much as I love her, and I do, I can’t help the feeling of calculated move. And somehow it makes me love her even more.

The third film is by far the weakest, “That Certain Woman”, a remake of a Gloria Swanson early talkie ("The Trespasser", 1929). Both films were written and directed by Edmund Goulding. I saw the original last year at the London Film Festival, and all I can say is that Goulding should take full responsibility for both. It’s melodramatic tripe of the worst kind. All sentiment and no substance. If I mentioned that the 1937 version also stars Henry Fonda, the full scale of the waste might be better felt. It has however two things I quite liked. One was Donald Crisp’s turn as the evil, remorseless father-in-law. Manipulative, imposing, full of self-importance, not used to lose, his is the sole redeeming performance, probably because is so brief. The second thing was Ernest Haller’s magnificent cinematography – that man did know a few things about his craft (as also seen in “Gone with the Wind”, “Jezebel”, “All this, and Heaven too” or “Mildred Pierce”).

Finally, there’s “It’s Love I’m After”, a screwball comedy with Leslie Howard and Olivia de Havilland, with Davis and Howard playing two over the top actors (Howard clearly taking inspiration from the John Barrymore school of actors). While is not one of the best, it’s a decent second-tier comedy, with a few scenes, in particular the beginning, where the two actors insult each other while performing “Romeo and Juliet”’s death scenes. Davis was not a great comedienne as Irene Dunne or Barbara Stanwyck, but she has a way with sarcastic dialogue that I find really, really funny. And that was perfect for screwball.

What all these four films show best is Davis’ versatility and ambition. She fought Warners for better parts and in the end she got “Jezebel” and the rest is history. However, what I find the most interesting about these films is that they suggest the possibility that without “Jezebel” and Wyler, Bette Davis might have been confined to footnotes in film books or to cult-ish status, like fellow Warner leading ladies of the 1930s Ann Dvorak, Kay Francis or Ruth Chatterton. Or maybe not. Maybe by 1937 her path to screen greatness was already inevitable.

Third Finger, Left Hand (1940)

2009-10-07T12:50:00.006+01:00

If I say that “The Philadelphia Story”, “Double Indemnity”, “Tea and Sympathy” and “Old Acquaintance” have something in common with a slightly forgotten 1940 MGM comedy with Myrna Loy and Melvyn Douglas called “Third Finger, Left Hand” I doubt that anyone would guess – the reason is far too personal. At some stage or another each of them was the film I wanted to see the most. I now need to find a new one…

Margot Sherwood (Loy) is a magazine editor with a nice job and a mysterious husband she left soon after her impulse marriage while holidaying in Brazil. Everyone seems to win with this situation – her boss doesn’t see her as available, her boss’ wife doesn’t see her as threat and she doesn’t see herself as out of a job. Except for the fact that there is no husband and she was never married. And it all works well until she meets Jeff Thompson (Douglas) and he finds out about the charade. He then decides to pass as the long lost hubby, and complications ensue.

Although not perfect, the film is funny, entertaining and perhaps unjustly forgotten, especially considering the calibre of both leads. Douglas was at his best as a comedy leading man, having done “Ninotchka” the previous year, and Loy has here one of her best MGM vehicles without William Powell. In fact, it’s clearly her vehicle through and through and she knows it. But she never runs away with it. It’s a team effort, as usually was with her. But she does fill the screen – just look at her feline eyes after having just persuaded Felix Bressart to continue helping by writing fake love letters. For a few seconds she does look as the cat that got the cream. Or later, when she just called Douglas under a false pretext and he doesn’t get her true intentions. To me there was only one obvious false step: when turning the table on Douglas, Loy pretends to be a tough Brooklyn dame that just got herself a nice husband. Not sure who thought of that, but there is something in that scene that doesn’t quite work out, whether it is the accent, or how much un-Myrna she becomes. I laughed, but only partly with her.

Contrary to most films, I was slightly disappointed with the character actors – even with Felix Bressart, one of Lubitsch’s usual troupe and hilarious as one of the three comrades in the above mentioned “Ninotchka”. In particular, I now know for a fact that I absolutely can’t stand Bonita Granville and that she should have never been allowed to be in a film (she was also dreadful in a key role in “The Mortal Storm”). The rest is usual MGM post-Thalberg – bright lighting, beautiful sets, sofisticated costumes (thankfully not by Adrian), inconspicuous director (Robert Z. Leonard in this case).

Not that any of this diminished the pleasure I had in watching the film – it is a well built, funny comedy; and yes, it is a star vehicle, but one that works for both stars. In fact I was a bit sad that among all the films both of them did for MGM in their heyday, this was their only pairing (they would later work in other projects, including “Mr Blandings builds his dream house”).

The film also has an interesting historical footnote. It has a dignified, albeit small, part for a black actor and I am pretty sure Myrna and/or Douglas had something to do with it: a train porter who has taken a law degree by correspondence and turns out to be the vehicle for the inevitable happy ending.

Heartbreaking - Art theft in Lisbon and surroundings

2009-10-01T19:59:00.004+01:00

I am sorry that this is Portuguese only, but I couldn't help posting it. It's a news piece (14min long) about the theft of Portuguese tiles (azulejos) and other art pieces, some from the middle of the street. Two have a personal significance as I passed by them many, many times as a kid; and one, a church, has been stripped bare from everything is heartbreaking.

Cumpleaños Mafalda!

2009-09-29T15:32:00.005+01:00

Mafalda, the masterful creation of Argentinean humourist Quino and a personal favourite is 45 today - although no new strips have appeared since 1973.

It's fascinating that something so full of references to The Beatles, Brigitte Bardot, U Thant, the Vietnam war, the Soviet Union and the red menace (let alone more local Argentinian politics) can still be so funny and so modern. It shows the true genius of Quino.

To me, without Mafalda there would never had been a Calvin, and all those who followed him, and a part of me would be missing today. So thank you Quino.

(stupid) Swine Flu Panic

2009-09-28T22:29:00.003+01:00

Today, in Lisbon, I had the dubious pleasure of being asked to clean my hands with an disinfectant gel before I could enter a public building (the National Library in Lisbon, should you care).

That, along with similar bottles I had seen and the many, many, many posters telling me how to wash my hands (it seems I might not know how) or how to sneeze to my sleeve (it captures the germs and doesn't allow the virus to rest on your hands - yes, I know... and moreover my mother always told me never to use my sleeves as a tissue) makes me think swine flu panic in Portugal is to stay...

The Corn is Green (1945)

2009-09-23T17:36:00.008+01:00

For a period of eight years, from 1938 till 1946, Bette Davis had hardly any rival in Hollywood as a dramatic actress. Her films of the period showed an unprecedented investment from Warners to a leading actress, which was rewarded with a string of box-office hits, where she often playing ruthless or self-sacrificing women, with one or two in the middle. Among the latter, is “The Corn is Green”. This is the story of a middle-age spinster who upon inheriting a house in a Welsh mining town decides to become a schoolteacher and develops a fondness towards a bright young miner (John Dall) she tries to persuade to go to Oxford.

This isn’t one of Davis’ more familiar efforts, despite one or two scenes regularly appearing on documentaries about the actress. Never shy about dressing up to the part, she betters the principles she applied in “The Old Maid” to make herself look older. In my opinion is one of her best performances – she conveys the self-assurance and self-doubts of the character without her trademark mannerisms (she doesn’t smoke, her hands are generally quiet, even her eyes are controlled far more than usually); her love for the young man, and perhaps the associated regret of being too old, is never more than suggested at, and in reality it may just be maternal love.

John Dall, who got an Oscar nomination for his performance, left me pretty indifferent. In both “Rope” and “Gun Crazy” he gives far more interesting performances – but maybe the parts were also better. The rest of the supporting cast, on the other hand, was fine, with the exception of the maid’s daughter, played too much as caricature to be part of the same world as Davis’ more realistic performance.

I really liked the use of Welsh songs as leitmotiv for the time passing, and the songs then permeate through the film, with Max Steiner picking a few themes to include in his score. Irving Rapper, frequently dismissed as a studio craftsman, surprisingly had an interesting sense of direction. His sudden camera movements towards close-ups seem to be a trademark (something that also can be seen in his “Now, Voyager”) but were a tad too often and started to irritate me, but his camera shots were subtle, advancing our perception of the characters – take the two great confrontations scenes between Davis and Dall. In the first, half way through the film and its most famous scene, she is in command, standing; in the second, when so much has happened, is also his moment – he is the one dominating, and the one now standing, and with camera shots from above.

Warner has promised in a press-release of one of its Bette Davis collections that they were restoring the film, with the obvious assumption that it would come out at some stage. I really hope so – I really enjoyed it.

Front Page Woman (1935)

2009-09-22T11:57:00.003+01:00

One of the best things of start digging into older films that are not part of the classic canon is that you never know exactly what to expect. These are films that very few people have seen them, or talk about, and they can turn into anything. Such is the case for “Front Page Woman”, a 1935 Bette Davis/George Brent comedy directed by Michael Curtiz. Both stars were on the way up, but they weren’t quite there yet – Davis had had a hit with “Of Human Bondage”, but not yet her first Oscar for “Dangerous” and arguably Brent never really got there. So I tossed the dice and it turned out to be good enough.

Two reporters in rival newspapers (Davis and Brent) are perpetually engaged and she will only accept marriage if he admits she’s as good a newspaperman as he is. Then a murder investigation triggers a series of double crossings as each tries to outdo the other – at stake, not their careers but an “I do”.

Fast dialogue, double crossings (mostly on the man’s part), attempts to outdo each other and journalists, and it is hard not to think of “His Girl Friday” which Hawks directed five years down the line. And there are similarities. But “Front Page Woman” holds on its own. Of course, it’s the weaker of the two, but it’s still very funny. I would venture that it has my favourite pre-“Jezebel” Bette Davis performance. And to my surprise, it has a really funny performance from George Brent, who I have mentioned not a few times before in this blog as a very, very limited actor, someone non-threatening enough to be paired with nearly all the leading ladies of the studio system – if the leading man is George Brent (or Herbert Marshall, for that matter) you can be sure the film is all about the leading lady.