The Arrogance and Cruelty of Youth: "Last Summer" (1969)

Perhaps Frank Perry could have directed a film like "Last Summer" in a year other than 1969, but it seems appropriate, that in that watershed year of films like "Easy Rider" and "Midnight Cowboy", that this little-seen gem about the cruelty of youth was conceived and released.

Barbara Hershey, Richard Thomas, and Bruce Davison play a trio of well-to-do teenagers who are summering on New York's Fire Island, where Hershey's character, Sandy, uses her budding sexuality as a powerful force to retain control over the two boys.

The person to watch in this film, however, is Catherine Burns (who is she?  whatever happened to her?) who earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress as Rhoda, who invites herself into this closed circle, and becomes the ultimate  victim of their cruelty and especially Sandy's hositility towards anyone who threatens her power.  The fact that Burns didn't win the Oscar for this brilliant performance is compounded by the fact that she lost to Goldie Hawn, as a hippy chick in the much less entertaining "Cactus Flower".  She is physically unlike the other three, in that she is a bit on the chubby side, and her intellect (or pretense of intellect) makes her the most mature of the bunch.

It is because of that intellect, that she is perceived as a threat by Sandy, and must therefore ultimately be punished.  Burns has a brilliant scene, basically a monologue, where she describes her mother's death, and it it a chilling thing to watch.  She tells the story as though she has distanced herself from the event, and yet her emotions cannot help but spring through, like leaks in a dam.

Perry's direction is fine, and the cinematography is beautiful, perfectly capturing the haze that hangs over beaches on sunny afternoons.  My only complaint is with the editing in the film's final scenes, but that may have more to do with the censors (the TCM print of "Last Summer" is obviously the one that was edited from the original X rating to an R) but it muddies the scene of Rhoda's humiliation.  It is a stirring film, one that I watched several weeks ago, but have been turning over in my mind for quite a while, because I wasn't sure what I wanted to say about it, or how I wanted to say it.  Essentially, it remains an undiscovered treasure by most people, but it is definitely worth a viewing.

Nothing Much Grows There: "The Chalk Garden" (1964)

In the film adaptation of Enid Bangold's novel and play "The Chalk Garden", the soil is rich but the trees are barren.  Rich soil comes with the territory when Ross Hunter is producing, and if the style of this picture seems more suited to a late-period Lana Turner or overheated Dorothy Malone, it is only because Hunter's style is so omnipresent that it always threatens to override the subject matter.  The picture is gorgeously made though, and it is hard to object to the look of the film, with its beautiful sets and appealing costumes, straight from a mid 1950's studio soap, even though it was filmed in the mid 1960's and seems almost a throwback to that earlier decade of filmmaking, which again, is probably just a side effect of it being a Ross Hunter production.  Hunter's fingerprints are much more evident on the film than that of director Ronald Neame, who made more cinematic work of a novel and play with "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" in 1969 and even the spectacle of epic disaster with 1972's "The Poseidon Adventure".  The direction is competent and doesn't interfere with the story, but does seem lacking a certain imagination that would fit the story of a young girl who is a habitual liar and troublemaker.

This holy terror of a teenage girl, Laurel, is spoiled by her indulgent grandmother, discarded by her mother in favor of a new husband, and the cause of ruin of a queue of nannies and governesses, each of whom have been swiftly dealt with by young Laurel.  One poor applicant is even scared away by Laurel's wildness before she is ever interviewed for the position.  The audience is meant to see Laurel as a misunderstood young girl on the verge of womanhood, swept away by a confusing undercurrent of emotion (symbolized rather heavily by the ocean she loves to sketch drawings of), and yet, she comes off more as a spoiled brat who wants nothing more than a good smack across the rear end.  Hayley Mills is very well-cast in this role, cranking up her comedic prankishness from Disney's "The Parent Trap" into more disturbing behavior.  What is most disturbing about Laurel is not her love of starting fires or unearthing secrets about her caretakers that cause their dismissal, but rather the feeling that the girl can be redeemed by the one thing she doesn't have: love.  That may be a trite assumption, however, and though the acting out may be seen as strictly a response to behavioral problems, we never get a clear enough picture of Laurel to explain her self-hatred.  In a well-performed scene, Laurel is asked where she wants to be and she replies "dead...and in hell", like a more chipper version of the disembodied voice of Mercedes McCambridge that would eminate from the mouth of Linda Blair nearly a decade later in "The Exorcist".

Top-billed Deborah Kerr is in noble, stiff-upper-lip mode as the newly arrived governess, who of course has a  deep, dark secret of her own for Laurel to discover.  Her characterization here is not one of Kerr's strongest, and in fact marks the second disappointing performance of 1964 when considered along with her maudlin Hannah Jelks in John Huston's "The Night of the Iguana", released the same year.  When you take into account that only three years earlier, Kerr had given the performance of her career in Jack Clayton's "The Innocents", it is extremely disappointing that there is no fire in her work in either of these films.  Perhaps the characters themselves were not interesting enough to invite said fireworks.  Certainly the unstable Miss Giddens from "The Innocents" (which I've written about before) is an extremely rich character , one which Kerr fills in and shades with every color in her actor's palette.  But in "The Chalk Garden", even in Kerr's big  reveal near the end, her confessional scene, lacks any real emotional investment.  She's still going through the motions of her nanny duties, like Mary Poppins but without the twinkle in her eye and the dancing chimney sweeps behind her.  Kerr is simply too good an actress to be wasted on such an impassive role.  She may be the glue that holds the picture together, but hers is not the performance we remember fondly afterwards.  Perhaps because she was nearing the end of her reign as one of the foremost leading ladies of the era, Kerr decided to take it easy and leave the heavy acting to young Mills and the film's other veteran performers.

These two dependable character actors provide exceptional supporting work that definitely make up for some of what the lead role lacks.  Sir John Mills (Hayley's real life father) is the household butler, and presents what I consider to be almost a textbook example of a solid supporting role: he has no direct bearing on the main story arc or plot, but adds texture to the film, which would be less enjoyable without his presence.  Mills hits exactly the right notes as a long-time family servant who has Laurel's number from the get-go, and even goes along with some of her more playful lies, but proves where his loyalties lie by alerting Kerr to Laurel's more devious activities.  There is slightly more than a hint of flirtation between the Mills and Kerr characters, which thankfully goes nowhere, avoiding what could have been a ponderous middle-age romantic subplot.

In a role that earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress, Dame Edith Evans handles the role of Laurel's doting grandmother as one would bite into a juicy steak: she doesn't nibble around the corners of the role daintily, but rather dives right in, slathering up every bite and then drooling happily over the empty plate.  Evans' line readings are, as always, delightful and a joy to listen to, but when it comes down to it, she's played this type of part so very many times before.  The motivation of the grandmother spoiling Laurel is her disappointment with how Laurel's mother (Evans' daughter) turned our, and her determination to keep Laurel with her, now that the mother has reappeared and wants her back.  Evans makes the most out of this role, even as the plot positions her as a type of villainess, albeit a rather benevolent one; she maintains a sense of order, always.  Evans, Kerr, and Miss Mills represent a trinity of Englishwomen: the past, present, and future of the country, as it were.  The only other prominent actress in the cast, whose name escapes me, portrays Laurel's mother and has two brief scenes, but makes so little impact on the picture that we must believe Laurel inherited all her spirit from her late father, or from the grandmother, whose extravagant crotchitiness must have skipped a generation.  It is easy to see why Laurel might be reluctant to be raised by her mother, when compared to the extravagance of her grandmother's character.  But if the actress playing the mother is unobtrusive (which she is) and the role itself is not fleshed out or even very well written (which it isn't), we still must see some reason for the conflict of whether Laurel remain with her grandmother or go with her mother.

The symbolism of the chalk garden of the title is brushed on a bit heavy as well, with Kerr spelling it out in detail to Evans in the manner of her schoolteacher character from "The King and I" (but without the lovely score in support of her efforts), and for the purpose of the plot, it may seem appropriate that Kerr's end of the film decision is to remain with Evans, but to me it seems silly to tend a garden whose flower has already been grown and plucked.

Hollywood's Venomous Valentine: "Sunset Boulevard" (1950)

Oscar nominated Gloria Swanson, totally demented yet totally bewitching in the final scene of Paramount's "Sunset Boulevard" (1950) 

Anything that can be said about Billy Wilder's 1950 masterpiece "Sunset Boulevard" has already been said, and by better writers than myself.  So, why bother to write anything on it at all then?  Because over sixty years after its debut, it remains one of the best films that Hollywood has ever made about itself.

The fractious relationship between silent movie queen Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson, not just giving the performance of her career but rather the performance of a lifetime) and hack screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden, all acrid, snippy remarks) reflects the battle that occurred when sound first came into cinema.  Norma thinks she needs Joe to survive in the world, but in reality she has already cocooned herself into a delusional fantasy, and seeks to reel him into it along with herself.

There are numerous impressive things about this film, most notably, its screenplay.  Wilder, Charles Brackett, and D.M. Marshman create a gothic world of old Hollywood gone to seed, contrasted with the current (or what was current in 1950) state of affairs in the motion picture capital.  Scenes are filled with dynamic dialogue, which still pops and crackles today, showing little if any sense that it was written well over a half-century ago.  Joe's snarky attitude and superior tone makes the viewer instantly distrust him, and our sympathies lie with Norma, who, though teetering on the edge of sanity, is vital, alive and the most interesting character on the screen.

The photography, set design, and costume designs are all black and white wonders.  The film works with light and shadow, the decaying opulence of Norma's mansion, and her bizarre outfits to create a twisted, Grimm's fairy tale of life in Movieland.  In fact, the only inferior sections of the movie are those which take Joe out of Norma's world, and into contact with other 'modern day' characters like would-be love interest Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson, pleasant and fairly attractive, but a total compared to a leading lady like Swanson).

Veteran director Erich von Stroheim has a strong supporting role as Max, the slavishly devoted butler to Norma, but their past is much more complicated than just employer and employee.  Max represents Joe's future if he continues to orbit Planet Norma.  Cameos by other prominent figures like silent-era comedian Buster Keaton, veteran director Cecil B. DeMille, and gossip columnist Hedda Hopper add another strong note of reality to the picture.  But make no mistake, and despite Holden's top billing, this is Gloria Swanson's show all the way.  Norma is utterly mad, but in the most wonderful way possible, and her descent further and further into her self-created world is a wonder to behold.  Modern audiences may be turned off by her overly theatrical acting style, but it rivets me to the screen every time I see the picture.  She commands the camera, practically daring the viewer to take their eyes off her for even a moment.  And that's a dare I don't take, because I know what this crazy bitch is capable of.  And so, finally, does Joe Gillis.

Despite nominations for the entire main cast (Swanson, Holden, Von Stroheim, and Olson) as well as for Picture and Direction, the only Oscars won by "Sunset Boulevard" (all extremely well deserved) were for Screenplay, Original Music Score, and Art Direction/Set Decoration.

Dreary in its Realism: "Room at the Top" (1959)

Jack Clayton's 1959 drama "Room at the Top" is a British drama concerning the love triangle between an ambitious young man (Laurence Harvey), the daughter of a rich industrialist (Heather Sears), and an unhappily married older woman (Simone Signoret, who won the 1959 Oscar for Best Actress for this part).

The Academy went hog-wild over this film, also giving it the Adapted Screenplay Oscar, as well as nominations for Best Picture, Director, Actor (for Harvey), and Supporting Actress (for Hermione Baddeley, who appears in only three scenes, for a grand total of about four minutes).

The tone of the film is harsh, which matches the performance by Harvey as the young government clerk who has his eyes set on landing a girl with money, to help him overcome his own anger about his working-class upbringing.  Despite the fact that the object of his attentions (Sears, who is blandly pretty yet also a little annoying) has a boyfriend and a set of disapproving parents, Harvey pursues her.  When she appears to have no interest in him, he falls into an affair with Alice (Signoret), whom he meets at a local dramatics society.

Signoret's performance is touching, but a little on the dull side.  There's none of the excitement that was so evident in her work in the 1955 thriller "Les Diaboliques".  But of the three leads, she has the most complex character and does come off best of the three main performers.  Her Alice is sympathetic, even without the inclusion of her caricatured bastard of a husband, and it is refreshing to see an "older" actress given a romantic leading role, rare at the time but even rarer in the youth obsessed film industry of today.

"Room at the Top" was daring in its day for its realistic depiction of sexual situations between adults, and still has a strong sense of realism in the drama.  But too much of the film just feels dreary, and unpleasant.  I really don't understand the frenzy of Oscar love for this movie, and even feel that Signoret's win was undeserved when compared with Audrey Hepburn's work in "The Nun's Story".

Depp Does Drac: "Dark Shadows" (2012)

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have proven to be such a winning combination, cinematically, that it doesn't seem at all surprising that they teamed up to bring the campy, cult 60's soap opera "Dark Shadows" back into theaters.

Depp seems perfectly at home in the undead skin of Barnabas Collins, a cursed vampire who is awakened after 200 years of bondage into a world of McDonalds restaurants and Scooby-Doo cartoons.  He is a lovable outsider (like other Depp characters before) who just happens to crave the taste of human blood.  His Barnabas is charmingly out of touch with life in 1972, but Depp gives in to the fun and creates a complex, comical character.

The film is extremely well cast, with Michelle Pfeiffer, Jonny Lee Miller, Chloe Grace Moretz, and Gulliver McGrath as the other members of the Collins family, Bella Heathcoate as new governess Victoria Winters (who just happens to be the spitting image of Barnabas' true love Josette), Eva Green, deliciously nasty as the immortal witch Angelique, and in a howling hoot of an over-the-top performance, Helena Bonham Carter as the family's live-in psychiatrist, Dr. Julia Hoffman.

The film's costume designer and production designer get major props for the look of the film: the family estate, Collinwood, is in a state of gloriously opulent decay, and the clothing is a mix of early 70's kitsch and styles more reminiscent of Barnabas' time (the late 1700s).

As far as Burton films go, this one is definitely more "Beetlejuice" than "Batman", meaning it tempers its darkness with humor, although much of the humor will definitely be lost on audience members who weren't around in the early 70's.

"Dark Shadows" succeeds as a campy, fun picture, with just enough bite (you knew I'd have to make that pun eventually) to keep you entertained.

This Movie is Brought to You by The Vatican: "The Cardinal" (1963)

To say that Otto Preminger's 1963 religious drama "The Cardinal" is a three hour commercial for Catholicism might be oversimplifying things, but at times that seems to be exactly what he's made.  Following the career of a young priest from the days prior to World War I up to the stirrings of World War II, and also charting his rise in the church, Preminger certainly has a flair for inserting the realities of the times into the personal story of Father Stephen Fermoyle (played by Tom Tryon; more on him later).

Although he earned an Academy nomination for Best Director for this film, Preminger's direction seems ponderous at times, and the film is definitely too long.  There's a sequence in the middle of the film where a romantic subplot appears which becomes a major point late in the film, which could have been handled better.  In fact, if you're going to include a romantic subplot, at least go to the trouble of making sure there are some kind of sparks going on between the characters, which doesn't happen at all here.  In addition, a detour into the southern US where Fermoyle becomes involved in a racial issue which also seems redundant when compared to other films that had focused on similar problems; the only difference here is that Preminger focuses on the church's part in segregation.  This whole segment of the picture, resulting in the Father being whipped by a gang of hooded Klansmen, is meant to establish him as a Christlike symbol.  But due to the less than stellar work done by lead actor Tyron, it just comes off as melodramatic and heavy-handed.

Tryon is the center of the film, but unfortunately, he just can't hold the weight of the thing up above the ordinary.  The film needed a more dynamic leading man, one capable of pulling off more than a single facial expression.  When Tryon is supposed to be concerned or conflicted about an issue, he ends up just looking constipated.  Also, Romy Schneider is never quite a threat as the woman who might make a priest question his vows; she's just not tempting enough.  The best performance in the film is given by John Huston (who did earn a Golden Globe and Oscar nomination for the part) as crusty Father Glennon.  Already famous and award-winning as a director and writer, Huston made his "official" acting debut here, and his presence adds a good bit of the spark that Tryon lacks.  There are also quite good, smaller bits by Burgess Meredith, Ossie Davis, and Cecil Kellaway (once again, doing his patented 'twinkly old Irishman' role).

The motive for the film is an honest one, and I applaud what Preminger attempted, but the subject matter is just too heavy for the lead actor, and that's a big flaw that the picture simply can't overcome.

What I Watched Today: "The Hindenburg" (1975) and "The Sterile Cuckoo" (1969)

When you make a film about a true-life event, for example, the explosion of the German airship The Hindenburg, you can approach the material one of two ways: either you can base your story on evidence and fact, or you can create an entire fictional world that just features the event as a plot point.  Director Robert Wise evidently did a lot of research into the disaster, and that shows in the impressive details of art direction and visual effects that are presented in the film.  However, the complete lack of character development robs the audience of any emotional impact that was so important to the disaster movies of the 1970's.  Also, knowing how the story eventually ends (as is also the case with Titanic movies) makes it even harder to maintain suspense, as everybody already knows the outcome.

George C. Scott gives his usual intense performance as Col. Franz Ritter, who is aboard the ship as a special security agent in response to the threats that have been made prior to the voyage.  Anne Bancroft co-stars as a German countess fleeing the country because of her distaste for the Nazis, but until the end of the movie she appears bored and thinking of how much money she must've been paid for this horribly underwritten role.  There are a lot of familiar character actors present as well: Charles Durning as the Captain, Richard Dysart as the designer, Burgess Meredith as an elderly gambler, and other faces (if not the names themselves) that you may recognize from other film and television roles.

The best part of the picture is, of course, the ship's fiery finale as it attempted to dock at Lakehurst, New Jersey.  At this point, the cinematography changes from Technicolor to black and white, and director Wise mixes in actual newsreel footage of the disaster with his own shots.  The change in color is impressive, and gives the scenes of destruction and hysteria a realism that other parts of the film are seriously lacking in.  And despite the historical details and chilling final scenes, I consider it one of the lesser entries in the 70's disaster film era.

Liza Minnelli earned a Best Actress Oscar nomination in 1969 as 'Pookie' Adams in the film "The Sterile Cuckoo", and the nomination was deserved just by the amount of acting that she does in the movie.  The girl acts up a storm the whole way through.

Pookie is meant to be a loveable oddball; somewhat of a misfit, with quirky behavior who pushes her way into an affair with a nice, well-meaning young man (Wendell Burton) she meets on the bus as the pair of them are on their way to their first year at neighboring colleges.  The problem is that Pookie's quirkiness grows old very quickly, and becomes exhausting.  I grew tired of her character long before Burton's did, and some of her behavior would be considered more erratic and worthy of examination rather than charming and lighthearted.

Liza has herself always been known for having a rather "outsize" personality, and perhaps she identified with Pookie for that reason, but I do wish director Alan J. Pakula had toned down some of that 'personality' and given us more of a character than a caricature.

Now, on the other hand, knowing that we often reject traits in others that we don't like in ourselves, I freely admit that I identified with Pookie's feelings of being something of an outcast, and entirely too needy and clingy.  Maybe this movie (and especially the character) hits too close to the bone for me to be able to look at it objectively.  Watching how desperately this girl longs to be part of something, to have someone love her, can be quite painful, and Minnelli has a few moments where she is genuinely moving, but then the very next scene she's right back to over the top and annoying.

The cinematography and title song "Come Saturday Morning", are both, however, quite beautiful.

What I Watched Today: "Adaptation" (2002) and "The L-Shaped Room" (1963)

"Adaptation", directed by Spike Jonze and starring Nicolas Cage, Meryl Streep, and Chris Cooper (all three were Oscar nominated, with Cooper winning as Best Supporting Actor).  Cage plays screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (and his brother Donald) who is charged with adapting the book "The Orchid Thief" by Susan Orlean (Streep), about the title character, played by Cooper.

The good: It was quirky and fun, and I loved the idea of a screenwriter driving himself crazy during the whole creative writing process.  Cage's performance in the dual roles of Charlie and Donald was impressive, as they were among the most 'normal' performances that Cage has ever done on film.  Cooper creates such an interesting, original character that he was definitely the highlight of the film, performancewise.

The bad: It was a little too quirky for its own good, and Streep comes off the weakest of the three central performers.  I didn't care for the film's ending that much either, and the whole subplot dealing with a pompous screenwriting expert played by Brian Cox was just annoying.

"The L-Shaped Room" was directed by Bryan Forbes, and starred Leslie Caron as Jane, a young Frenchwoman living in England who finds herself with "technical difficulty" (a 60's era euphemism for an unmarried pregnant girl).  She won the Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination for Best Actress.

Jane moves into a less than grand boardinghouse, where she befriends struggling writer Toby (Tom Bell), immigrant musician Johnny (Brock Peters), and elderly music hall veteran Mavis (Cicely Courtneidge) as she makes her decisions regarding her life and her pregnancy.

The good: Atmospheric direction by Forbes perfectly fits these stories of lives lived on the fringes of happiness, and Caron gives a strong, complex performance as Jane, who must take responsibility for her life and choices on a daily basis.  The nicest surprise for me in the film was the character Mavis, who acts in a motherly way towards Jane but has a surprise or two of her own to reveal during the course of the picture.  The story itself is intelligent and adult, without becoming too explicit or keeping a safe distance from the characters.

The bad: The subject matter promises that this won't exactly be an uplifting, feel-good kind of movie, and one wishes that some gentle humor or perhaps a lighter tone was used in certain spots.  Also, there's the over-the-top playing of supporting actress Avis Bunnage as the boardinghouse landlady; like with her role in "The Whisperers" (1967), a little of Bunnage goes a long, long way.

Epic in Scope, Boring in Presentation: "Anthony Adverse" (1936)

In the 1930's, Warner Brothers studios was more known for their gritty gangster movies (i.e. "Angels with Dirty Faces") and noble biographical films (i.e. The Life of Emile Zola) than grand historical spectacles, which were pretty much the province of M-G-M, which spared little expense in bringing opulent, epic spectacles to life (i.e. "Marie Antoinette").  However, in 1936 Warners went all out with the production of the picture "Anthony Adverse", and although there are star-crossed lovers, sneering villains, and swordfights in the first twenty minutes alone, it must be said that overdressed sets, detailed period costumes and a bombastic music score do not necessarily a masterpiece make.

Leading players Fredric March (Anthony) and Olivia De Havilland (Angela) are not introduced until nearly 45 minutes into the picture, after which we have been treated to the details surrounding the unfortunate Anthony's conception, birth, abandonment, and youth as a foundling raised in a convent.  For much of the picture, March (an actor that I greatly admire) is not used to his best advantage.  As the rising young gentleman with no identity other than the one created for him by the nuns in the convent, he is handsome and debonair (and could easily have been played by Tyrone Power or another more lightweight actor).  It is only later on in the film, as Anthony becomes dissolute and aggressive, that March's intensity is allowed to shine.  De Havilland has the unfortunate task of being the female lead in a picture where the female lead is given very little to do, and she has little of the spark here that she so famously showed in her pictures with Errol Flynn.

Capable supporting performances are submitted by Claude Rains (as an unctuous Spanish man of importance), and Edmund Gwenn as Bonnyfeather, who becomes young Anthony's benefactor and protector.  Of historical note, is the fact that Gale Sondergaard (as the scheming Faith, who goes from housekeeper to grand lady of wealth during the course of the picture) won the very first Academy Award presented for Best Supporting Actress for this performance.  My problem with Sondergaard's performance is that she employs a single facial expression (a cross between a smirk and a sneer) throughout the film, has very limited screen time, and many of her wicked machinations are discussed but not shown onscreen which limits her character's importance in the film as a whole.  It is, in essence, a one-note performance that doesn't really compare to the more textured work done by fellow nominee Beulah Bondi in "The Gorgeous Hussy".

The film is overlong and gets so bogged down in Anthony's journey from Italy to Havana to Africa to France in order to discover his identity and create his own life that we grow ready for the end credits long before they actually appear.  Props to Warner Brothers for attempting the M-G-M level of epic filmmaking, but the picture doesn't hold up very well today, at least not to this guy.

That Sinking Feeling: "Titanic" (1953)

To compare 20th Century Fox's 1953 production of "Titanic" to James Cameron's 1997 spectacle is a bit like comparing the Cliff Notes edition of "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" to the real thing; in fact, one could probably watch the simple, black and white 50's version twice in the time it would take you to sail through (pun intended) the 90's edition once.  But despite the lack of all those CGI created special effects and that oh-so-inspirational Celine Dion theme song, the original is not all that bad a film in and of itself.  In fact, there are one or two very distinct links between the two films, other than the fact that there is a cameo appearance by an iceberg and things don't end well for a great many passengers.

I am not one of those so beloved of Cameron's film as to believe it is a cinematic masterpiece, although I freely admit is a masterful piece of filmmaking, with great detail (and great money) spent on recreating the look of the ship; something that clearly was not done with the 1953 edition.  Still, the earlier film was nominated for its impressive art direction, and actually won an Oscar for its story and screenplay (a category that Cameron's film was famously not even nominated in).  Director Jean Negulesco does a competent job splitting his energies between the personal passenger stories and the details of the ship's voyage and destruction, and it is this even-handedness that makes the film interesting.

Julia Sturges (Barbara Stanwyck) has chosen to take her children back to America from Europe so that they may be raised like ordinary people, without bothering to tell her uppity husband Richard (Clifton Webb), which forces him to bribe a steerage passenger out of a ticket so that he may join them on the ship.  Daughter Annette (Audrey Dalton) is a snobbish brat, definitely her father's daughter, but finds herself being charmed by the pleasant company of young college student Giff Rogers (Robert Wagner).  Also featured are Brian Aherne as stoic Captain Smith, Richard Basehart as a disgraced priest, going back to face his family in the States, and a rough-and-tumble heiress named Maude Young (the divine Thelma Ritter), who is obviously based on the real-life Molly Brown.

Though the film has a running time of just under 100 minutes, the characters are developed sufficiently and the story moves briskly through the ship's voyage.  And considering that only a fraction of the time is devoted to the actual sinking when compared to Cameron's film, there is still a strong emotional impact felt.  And though rabid fans of Cameron's film would probably be offended by watching what they might consider a 'low-rent' version of the story, it can be appreciated for its own charms and its success in storytelling.

The Lighter Side of Laughton: "Hobson's Choice" (1954)

Charles Laughton was known for his imperious portrayals of such figures as Captain Bligh in 1935's "Mutiny on the Bounty" and Henry VIII in 1933's "The Private Life of Henry VIII", for which he won a Best Actor Academy Award, but in 1954's "Hobson's Choice", he seems to be channeling his inner W.C. Fields as a tippling, tight-fisted tyrant of a father who is frustrated at every turn by his assertive, efficient eldest daughter.

Directed by David Lean in the years when he was still making smaller, personal films rather than epics like "The Bridge on the River Kwai' and "Lawrence of Arabia", "Hobson's Choice" is a humorous look at family life, and the efforts of one young woman to see to it that her father and younger sisters all get what's best for them (whether they realize it or not).

Laughton plays Henry Hobson, who runs a modestly successful business selling boots, but would rather spend his time with his drinking buddies at the local pub.  Most of the success of his business is due to the brains of his elder daughter Maggie (a sharp, smart performance by Brenda de Banzie) and the talents of boot maker Willie Mossop (John Mills, charming, in a shaggy dog sort of way).  Henry is determined to marry off his younger daughters to get them off his hands, but the problem is the gentlemen the girls have their eyes on are not favored by the father, and he refuses to pay a dowry for either one.  Additionally, Henry considers the 30 year old Maggie past marrying age, but she has a plan of her own, and a spirit that won't take no for an answer.

Strong performances by the always reliable Laughton, and the no-nonsense de Banzie are topped only by Mills' transformation from uneducated cobbler to a prosperous business owner (due in no part to de Banzie's urgings and proddings), and aided by Lean's sensitive direction.  If Laughton's work tends to cross the line into caricature at times, it is fitting for the arc of the picture's story, and makes his eventual comeuppance all the more deserved.  Definitely one of the more pleasant mid-century British films I've seen.

Ew, what a mess!: "The Music Lovers" (1970)

The English director Ken Russell was not one for using much restraint, and most of his films that I've seen ("Women in Love", "Tommy") display the kind of talent usually seen by children who've just gotten their first set of crayons: exuberance, and the desire to use ALL of the colors at their disposal no matter how it ends up looking.  Having just watched his 1970 musical biography of the Russian composer Peter Tchaikovsky, I can add another film to that list of wildly-directed messes.  Russell indeed uses all his crayons at the same time, and what might under another director have been just a standard biographical film, becomes under him, a chaotic whirlwind of classical music, hysteria, and madness.

Richard Chamberlain plays Tchaikovsky, all intense stares and jangling nerves.  Is it because he is haunted by the childhood death of his mother, his barely restrained attraction to his close friend Count Chiluvsky (Christopher Gable, flaming it up with all the jets on his stove at full force), or his ill-conceived marriage to the nympho Nina (Glenda Jackson, who gets all into the part, making the most of her mad scenes, of which she has plenty).  The question is never fully answered, because apparently every relationship in Tchaikovsky's life is fragmented to one degree or another.  Despite his flourishes and directorial excess, Russell does manage some impressive set pieces: Peter's first performance at the conservatory, a lovely performance of "Swan Lake", and Nina's final scenes at the asylum.  Other scenes, such as a fantasy sequence involving people swarming after Peter and cannons lopping off the heads of all of his acquaintances don't come off nearly as well.

Really, the only thing I can recommend this film for is the performance of Glenda Jackson.  She was one of the most critically beloved actresses of the early 1970's, and her Nina is a good example of why: she gives herself totally to the role, abandoning all traces of vanity but not quite going all "actressy".  She's obviously unstable from the start, but the journey she takes is effective in its heaviness as well as its sadness.

Love It or Leave It: "WUSA" (1970)

One of the lesser-known Paul Newman films is the 1970 drama "WUSA", released by Paramount Pictures and co-starring Newman's wife Joanne Woodward, Anthony Perkins, and Laurence Harvey.  It pops up rather frequently on Showtime or The Movie Channel, probably because they can show this picture very cheaply since there's so little to recommend it.

Newman is Reinhardt, an alcoholic drifter, who winds up in New Orleans and finds work as an announcer for the super conservative radio station of the title.  He meets Woodward (as Geraldine) when she is trying to hustle a sailor for dinner in a dingy bar, while Perkins, who plays Rainey, is wandering around the city taking pictures and interviewing locals for a mysterious welfare survey project.

The plot is very convoluted, and the actors involved do seem to give a decent effort.  Woodward seems to come off best, playing a woman searching for something that life just doesn't seem ready for her to have.  Newman's hard-drinking radio man is all cynicism and attitude, and Perkins plays his role so tightly wound that we are not at all surprised when he snaps, only that it took so long for it to happen.  In fact, he plays his role here only slightly less intense than he appeared as Norman Bates in "Psycho", with the same little nervous ticks amplified so that the presumed ending of the film is telegraphed long before it actually happens.

There is, it seems, a connection between what we would today call the very right wing radio station and Perkins' welfare survey.  Woodward wanders her way through a rather casual affair with Newman, but eventually finds his cynicism to be too much for her.  There is a huge political rally, which seems almost directly lifted from the earlier, much better political paranoia film "The Manchurian Candidate", and as if you needed a hint to recall that earlier film, it's original star Laurence Harvey pops up here for a couple of scenes as a crooked preacher.  The picture works on the premise that our good ol' American values are all corrupt: politics, religion, entertainment, etc.  It's a fine idea for a film, and probably one that could be made today though it would need a more coherent script and better direction than that provided by Stuart Rosenberg.

I give props to Rosenberg  for one truly moving scene, near the film's end, as Newman wanders through a potter's field of graves, set to the forlorn Neil Diamond song "Glory Road" (a tune we've heard earlier in the film when Woodward selects it on a barroom jukebox).  It is the most touching scene in the movie, and, in fact, seems a bit out of place from all the heavy-handed drama that has gone on before it.

Not one of the great cinema achievements for any of the participants, "WUSA" might have more meaning to today's audience than it did in 1970, if only because we've had 40 additional years since then to see just how hand-in-hand politics, religion, and entertainment all are, and how the corruption portrayed in this picture has exploded in the decades since.  Not a great movie, despite the star power and intriguing idea behind it.

Performance of the Month: Michael Shannon in "Take Shelter" (2011)

Michael Shannon gives a criminally neglected performance in the frightening, yet moving "Take Shelter"

Having taken a hiatus from writing for the month of February, what with preparing for the annual Oscar bloodbath and the details of daily life, I've been compelled to post again after watching a little movie called "Take Shelter" last night.

I'd heard of it, in passing, during award season and in the litter of films released last year that featured Jessica Chastain, but it wasn't until the Independent Spirit Awards last weekend that I really became aware of how intriguing the film looked.  And, in fact, while watching the Indie Spirits, every time they showed a clip from "Take Shelter", I found myself saying "I have got to see that movie!"

Written and directed by Jeff Nichols, whom I'd honestly never heard of until now, I don't want to spoil any of the twists of the plot by merely rehashing the details of the story.  Instead, I want to focus on what was one of the truly great film performances given last year (one that, naturally, earned no Academy love), by Michael Shannon as a man named Curtis.  Curtis works in some type of construction or drilling job; I don't know specifically which it was, but it isn't really important.  He's a hard worker, devoted to his wife Samantha (Chastain), and their young hearing-impaired daughter.

Now, Michael Shannon just naturally has an intense look, which would make the most mild-mannered character he plays seem suspect, and he was very memorable as the disturbed neighbor in 2008's "Revolutionary Road" (for which he did earn a Supporting Actor nomination).  But Curtis appears to just barely have a lid on things as the film opens.  We know that these waters may be still for the moment, but they are very deep indeed.  For one thing, Curtis has nightmares.  He dreams of storms: violent, malevolent, disastrous storms.  He also appears to hallucinate being attacked by his own dog, his co-worker, and his wife.  Curtis, being an intelligent man, and knowing that some unpleasant issues are possibly embedded in his DNA, tries to deal with the problem by seeking medical help.  But the help is too little, and his obsession with refinishing an old storm shelter on his property becomes paramount in his mind.

There are so many words one could use to describe Michael Shannon's performance in this film: compelling, frightening, unnerving, and brilliant.  His scenes with Chastain and the young girl who plays their daughter show the unease that exists in the family unit already, a chasm that will grow as Curtis' nightmares and visions continue to get worse.  But as Shannon plays it, in Curtis' mind, he is doing all he can to protect and save his family from what he is sure is coming.  The other family members, friends, and neighbors, who all just assume he's losing his mind bring out a side of Shannon's acting that seems to indicate that he just might believe them himself, if he weren't so sure of his purpose.  A thrilling, dynamic scene at a community fish fry takes on the tone of a tent revival preacher, and this, my friends, is the true key to the success of Shannon's performance and of the movie itself.

I won't reveal any more of the film, which ended perfectly; really, the only way it could have ended, because all I keep thinking about is that intensely sad look of resignation in Curtis' eyes as he accepts his fate.  I can't think of any actor who could've walked the tightrope over the gaping chasm of insanity the way Michael Shannon does in this movie.  More's the pity that he didn't get the recognition he deserved in a year when the supposed 'Best Actor' did little more than arch his eyebrows or mug for the camera for an hour and a half.

Performance of the Month: Ewan McGregor in “Beginners” (2011)

Ewan McGregor (and Cosmo) in a scene from "Beginners" (2011)

From everything I’ve heard and read about the Mike Mills film “Beginners”, I was only familiar with the portion of the film that deals with Christopher Plummer’s character, Hal, an elderly gentleman who comes out of the close after the death of his wife of 40-something years.  As Hal, Christopher Plummer has been picking up awards hand over fist (no pun intended) and is a front runner to win the Oscar as well.  I mean to take nothing away from Plummer, a veteran actor who’s been appearing in films for about half a century (you might remember him as the stiff-backed Baron Von Trapp in “The Sound of Music”), or his performance here, which I consider more an interesting one  than a great one.  Having said that, I feel that the exceptional work by Ewan McGregor in the lead role of Hal’s son Oliver has been grossly overlooked by the entities and groups that award film excellence.

In as much as the film is about Hal finding and embracing his true nature late in life, the meat of the story (again, no pun intended) concerns Oliver and his beginnings to form a loving relationship of his own.  We are introduced to Oliver as he is dealing with Hal’s recent death, and the fact that he does not have a significant other in his life, except for his late father’s dog Arthur (played charmingly by a dog named Cosmo, who actually has subtitled dialogue representing his thoughts in the film).  Yes, I know it sounds weird, but it works here.

Oliver is clearly depressed; it shows in his dialogue, his actions, his work, everywhere.  Some friends make an effort to take him to a party, but his attachment to Arthur is so strong he must take the dog with him.  Here, he meets a pretty young actress named Anna (Melanie Laurent, who was so memorable in Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” a few years back) who has laryngitis and can only communicate at the party by writing on a notepad.  In a romantic comedy, this would be a wonderful ‘meet-cute’ device, but in this drama, it is an intriguing introduction for a character that we meet in stages.  Like Oliver, we can appreciate Anna’s beauty (Laurent is indeed a beautiful actress), her smarts and quick wit.  Only later, when she is in full voice, can the audience (and Oliver) truly come to appreciate the whole picture of the character.

McGregor, who positively glowed with energy and life in 2002’s “Moulin Rouge” sinks down inside the clothes and skin of his character here, holding on to the frayed connection with his deceased parents as evidenced by the boxes of their belongings still in his house, and his bonding with Arthur.  Flashing back to the period when Hal came out, Oliver is not really surprised by his father’s announcement, but is taken aback with the excitement and abandon that the older man relishes his newfound freedom as a gay man.  Oliver stands in the background much of the time, watching as Hal makes a new circle of friends, becomes politically and socially active, and gets a significantly younger boyfriend (Goran Visnjic as Andy; the case of a good, usually intense actor playing what is essentially a throwaway role).

So, see “Beginners” and admire the work of Plummer, but be really impressed by the work of McGregor.  And Cosmo, the dog.

The Trouble with Meryl: "The Iron Lady" (2011)

I think that perhaps critics (and audiences as well) hold Meryl Streep to a higher standard than we do other actresses.  When a performer has consistently been at the top of their game for as long as she has (well over 30 years now), we seem to demand more and at the same time be more prone to nit-picking about flaws in a performance that we might rave over if it were offered by a lesser talent.  And there's no denying Streep's talent, as she's just earned her 17th career Oscar nomination for her performance in this film, more than any other actor has ever done.  Even the divine Katharine Hepburn stalled at 12, but unlike double winner Streep, Hepburn managed to win 4 golden Oscar statues during the course of her career.  Some people on message boards harp that Streep is "overdue" for her 3rd Oscar.  To them, I'd ask "Why?".

As Margaret Thatcher in "The Iron Lady", Streep delivers the kind of technically perfect performance that by now she can probably do in her sleep.  It is a brilliant piece of work, yes, but is there something in it human, of flesh and blood, that an audience can really connect with?  Why do some of her more praised performances seem as if they were presented by an 'acting machine' as opposed to a person?  Can it be that we've overdosed on her supreme mastery of accents and dialects?  Are we so used to brilliance in Streep's work that we look for fault?  And why, oh why, can't she get a great role in a film that matches her talent?

I should point out that, as a fan of acting, I am in awe of Meryl Streep's gifts.  However, a great number of her film roles have left me cold and untouched.  Her most universally honored portrayal, in 1982's "Sophie's Choice" is one that I've always found too studied and careful, and yet "A Cry in the Dark" from 1988 is just as meticulously crafted and I consider it the greatest thing she's ever done on film.  Rarer still is the "loose" performance as in 1983's "Silkwood", which I think is underrated in the way it flows and seems organic as opposed to the textbook 'capital-A' acting that she does in 'Sophie' and 'Dark'.  Her brittle comic performance in "The Devil Wears Prada" from 2006 is another example of a great bit of work that doesn't seem overdone, but totally appropriate to the film.  Compare that with her work in 2008's "Doubt", where she was all rigid, controlled righteous anger spilled out in a Boston-ish accent, that threatened to overpower the basic simplicity of the story.

The woman can do anything on film, but the success of her performance ultimately has a lot to do with the film she's in.  Unfortunately, "The Iron Lady" does not hold up to the caliber of Streep's work in it.  As the elderly, failling into dementia Margaret Thatcher, she is amazing.  The paralyzing loss of clarity and yo-yo'ing between the past and present is a great challenge for an actor, and she more than meets it.  There's a real human performance there, and it is as impressive as anything I've seen her do.  But- and this is a big but, in the flashback sections of the film, her work seems mechanical; more of an impersonation than a creation of acting.    In fact, these large sections of the film take away some of the wonder that she portrays in the present day sequences.  Showering her with nominations and awards for this performance seems like honoring her career and her talent rather than for the particular role she's playing.  And perhaps that's always a danger when portraying a public figure such as Thatcher, that possibility that it's going to seem more of an imitation or impression than an actual performance.

The movie is ok, Streep is better, but she's been much, much better in other things.  And that's no reason to believe that anyone is overdue for a 3rd anything, especially an Oscar.

 

Laughing at Cancer: “50/50” (2011)

Joseph Gordon-Levitt has been impressive before, in films such as “Mysterious Skin” and “500 Days of Summer”, and yet I felt he was very bland as the cancer-stricken young man at the center of “50/50”.  Perhaps that blandness made him easier for the audience to identify with, but I wanted there to be more of a core to the character than just the wide brushstrokes laid out by the screenwriter.

He plays 27 year old Adam, an earnest well-meaning young man who works for Public Radio in northern California.  Adam exercise, recycles, doesn’t smoke or drink, puts up with insufferable girlfriend Rachael, exasperating best friend Kyle, his controlling mother, and if all that isn’t enough, ends up diagnosed with a malignancy on his spine.

The film follows Adam’s life as the disease progresses, and how it affects all the relationships in his life.  Rachael , played by Bryce Dallas Howard (giving her second bad performance of last year, following her work as the nadir of the ensemble of “The Help”), pledges her support to Adam, even as she is cheating on him behind his back.  

Kyle, played with gleeful raunchiness by Seth Rogen, is Adam’s co-worker and best friend, whose idea of support seems to be using Adam’s diagnosis as a way for the pair to hook up with girls.  Kyle has his own issues, and watching him grow as a truly supportive friend, helping his buddy through the roughest bouts of the illness is a pleasure, and gives Rogen an opportunity to do more than just spout off-color jokes or dirty dialogue.  The film takes the time to develop how a terminal illness affects the people around the patient as well as the patient himself, and it is this branching out of the screenplay that adds much to the piece as a whole.

 Anjelica Huston plays Diane, Adam’s mother, in only a few scenes, but makes a good impression as the controlling mother who must deal with something in her son’s life that she cannot control.  In addition to Adam’s illness, she is also caring for her husband who’s battling Alzheimer’s Disease, and Diane’s stressed, brittle nature suits the situation that particular character is dealing with.  Not so with the performance of Gordon-Levitt; although he portrays the shocked, numbing aspect of dealing with illness well, his later on explosion of anger and fear doesn’t come off well.  It just looks like bad acting, something that I don’t usually associate with this performer.  Veteran character actor Phillip Baker Hall also provides some weight and texture to the film as a fellow chemo patient who introduces Adam to the pleasure of medicinal marijuana.

The strongest performance in the film for me was that of Anna Kendrick as Katherine, the in-training therapist who is still feeling her way into uncomfortable territory (Adam is only her third patient), and the friendship that develops between the two seems completely natural and unforced.  Kendrick is a gifted actress, who truly deserved her 2009 Oscar nomination for “Up in the Air”, and I would probably have nominated her again for her performance here.

There are some strengths to “50/50”, among them the several of the performances and especially the screenplay, which doesn’t drift off into familiar “sickness” movie clichés, but rather explores the situation with a mixture of sensitivity and bawdy humor that strikes a pretty successful tone.  And the truth is that despite the serious subject matter, there is a lot of humor in this film.  For whatever reason though, that central performance just felt “off” to me, and left the film feeling overall a bit emptier than it should’ve been.

Some thoughts on “The Tree of Life” (2011)

I can appreciate a piece of art, even if it’s not to my particular taste.  And sometimes, it’s clear when an artist’s aims or goals were simply beyond his ability.  Do we fault the artist for having a reach that far exceeds their grasp?  For having the desire to express some great universal truth, and yet not having the capability of bringing his vision to bear?  Where is the line drawn where we can acknowledge something as a work of art, and yet at the same time admit that it is a pure mess?  All of these questions are relevant in a discussion of Terrence Malick’s film “The Tree of Life”.

On the credit side of the column, the film has some stunningly beautiful images of nature, and when I say stunningly beautiful, I mean that sincerely.  These scenes showcase Malick’s talent as a visual filmmaker, a sort of director/poet, who takes the camera into places that other directors might not have the audacity or the nerve to go into.  There is the scent of Kubrick in his visuals.  It’s hard not to be moved by the beauty of the direction and camerawork here, and I applaud his efforts at creating a beautiful visual palette for the film.  

Secondly, there are pieces of the domestic drama of the young sons growing up in a family led by strict father Brad Pitt and loving mother Jessica Chastain that are so true in their realism as to be almost painful, for myself at least.  These scenes showcase the talent of Pitt and Chastain, and especially the cast of young actors, and Malick’s talent as a writer and director of intimate scenes between people.  Chastain is especially impressive, as hers is a largely silent role, and yet the camera lingers so lovingly on her that she becomes the epitome of “mother”.    

If you could extract the finely drawn scenes involving the family, separating them from Malick’s grand vision of God, nature, and the universe (which seems to be his theme), you might have a very well-crafted movie.  Yet, it is the intrusion of the mystical, the fantastic, and the overwhelming that left me feeling exhausted.  Much of the dialogue is whispered, as if in prayer, and you must strain to hear what is being said.  I did strain to hear, because I wanted to hear what Malick had to say about all the great questions of life; something I needed to hear about faith, and love, and loss.

And then there were dinosaurs.  Perhaps they were meant to be metaphoric, but there they were on the screen, actual dinosaurs like from “Jurassic Park”.  This is the point where I felt that Malick took a huge misstep.  I had stretched my mind around the grandiosity of his earlier images, and the silent passages, and the family narrative, but finally grew exhausted by Malick’s schizophrenic filmmaking style; it was simply too much for me, and whatever statement he was trying to make about the meaning of life (if that was indeed his thought) was lost somewhere between the majesty and the quiet.

I’ve struggled for the past two days over what I wanted to say about this film, and I’m still not sure about my feelings.  Perhaps that in itself is a mark of what an artistic dilemma “The Tree of Life” inspired within me.  I’m not convinced that it’s a great film.  While I do admire certain things within the film, very highly, overall I don’t feel that the blend was a success.  I give the man props for attempting something like this, but in the end, I feel it was just a lot of bluster and pomp that weighed down what should’ve been a simple story about growing up, fathers and sons, brothers, and faith.  As it stands, “The Tree of Life” is one hell of a glorious failure.

The Circle Goes On: "The Ides of March" (2011)

As far as political films go, "The Ides of March" doesn't really trod any new ground.  If anything, it reinforces our belief that all politics is dirty, and that even the most idealistic young person with good values will turn to the 'dark side' to further his or her own interests.  Smoothly directed by co-star George Clooney, it does provide some good work by a gallery of interesting actors playing the various politicians and background players during the course of a presidential campaign.

Ryan Gosling is adequate in the central role of political advisor Stephen Meyers, and though Gosling is a capable actor, here he's overshadowed by more seasoned players, like Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Jeffrey Wright, and Clooney himself (who displays more of a dark side than we usually see in this genial leading man).

Hoffman and Giamatti are rival campaign managers and they have the look of lifelong political players, Hoffman, indeed gives his second great supporting performance of last year (the other being in "Moneyball"), as a 'seen it all, done it all' guy, who finds himself upended by his own apprentice.  Wright has a couple of good scenes as a charasmatic senator who finds himself in a position of power by holding needed delegates, and even Marisa Tomei makes a good impression as an experienced political reporter.

Clooney is the acting revelation here, though, as the straight shooting man aiming for the White House.  Of course, when we see the beautiful young intern (played by Evan Rachel Wood) early on in the film, it doesn't take much for the imagination to stretch into a scenario that we've been familiar with ever since the Clinton years.  But dodging damaging material that could dislodge his campaign, Clooney shows a hard steeliness behind the familiar smile and pleasant nature, particularly in a late scene in the film between himself and Gosling in a deserted kitchen.  And as the film ends, we can see the beginnings of the same situation that played out earlier in the film  perhaps starting again, proving that nothing ever really changes.  The circle always goes on.

As I said, there's nothing really new here, but it's smart and we can relate to some of the workings of the political machines, especially appropriate during this election year, and with the valuable cast, it's a not-altogether bad way to spend a couple of hours.  If that doesn't exactly sound like praise, well, I gotta call 'em like I see 'em.

I Wanna Go To France!: "Midnight in Paris" (2011)

There can't be many more prolific American filmmakers than Woody Allen.  According to my roommate (by way of IMDb), he's released a film every year since 1982, and his most recent, "Midnight in Paris" is one of his best and most enjoyable.  The premise of the film is an American screenwriter visiting modern-day Paris, who mysteriously finds himself transported back into the city circa the 1920's while walking the city's streets alone at midnight.  Allen's concept, though, is that each generation sees through a golden haze of nostalgia, that which came before, and that even in the earlier time period, there are people who revere an even earlier time.

Allen's trod this ground before, the golden glow of nostalgia, but here it seems fresh and not nearly so cliche as it may sound on paper.  This is partly due to his writing, his casting, and perhaps most importantly, his brevity as a director.  The entire film comes off in just over ninety minutes, and that's all the time Allen needs to tell his story; there's not a gratuitous note in the picture.

And, to be fair, who wouldn't fall in love with the idea of Paris at midnight?  Gil (Owen Wilson, standing in for Allen) certainly does, although his fiancee Inez (Rachel McAdams, just a bit too shrewish in what is basically a thankless role) and her ugly-American-tourist parents fail to fall under the spell of the city the way Gil does, which makes sense, since he's a writer, or, someone who gets paid to dream.

In his nightly reveries, Gil encounters American expatriates Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, and a host of other notable names, and Allen mixes a blend of familiar faces (Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody) with relative unknowns (Allison Pill, impressive as hell as Zelda Fitzgerald), and especially Corey Stoll, whom I've never heard of but will be watching with interest in the future, embodying Hemingway.  The most fully-formed of the characters Gil encounters in 1920's Paris is Adriana, the mistress of Picasso, whom he falls in love with.  As played by Marion Cotillard, Adriana is enchanting, and easily shows how she would become the object of affection of a number of potential lovers.  There's something about Cotillard that fits the time period of the film; she seems to belong there, whereas sometimes actors in period films stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, Cotillard is a perfect match.

It's a charming piece of fluff, a bit of a fairy tale, and a love letter to both Paris and the 'idealized' Paris of the past, and a jewel in Woody Allen's filmography.  And it totally makes me want to walk through Paris, at midnight, in the rain, with someone's hand to hold...(sigh).

Pitt's Home Run: "Moneyball" (2011)

It says a lot about director Bennett Miller, screenwriters Aaron Sorkin and Stephen Zaillian, and lead actor Brad Pitt, that, despite a very limited knowledge of and interest in professional sports, I found that my concentration and interest was held completely by their recent effort "Moneyball".

Miller's debut feature film was 2005's "Capote", and he earned an Oscar nomination for his intriguing direction of that picture, and here he goes in a completely different direction, materially speaking, and still manages to maintain control over the story and keep it moving in a fresh and exciting manner.  The credit does not solely belong to Miller though, as the script by Oscar winners Zaillian (Schindler's List) and Sorkin (The Social Network) was intelligent and yet entry level enough for a non-sports fan to get into the picture without feeling lost.

The picture follows the real-life experiences of Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane (Pitt) as he develops a new style of teambuilding following the advice of Yale economics graduate Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), to the chagrin of team manager Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and nearly all of his scouts, advisors, and basically everyone else who thought he was crazy to approach the game from a purely statistical point of view.

Pitt gives a great performance, probably the best I've ever seen by the actor, never relying on his still impressive looks, but in fact playing off them as he allows all the stress and tension to show in his face and his body language.  His determination shows in the firm jaw, and the stance of a man who has made up his mind and anyone who disagrees with him may be damned.  We are treated to flashbacks of Beane's own experiences as a player, and those scenes help add weight to the work Pitt is doing.

Hill, whom I've only seen do comedy, brings humor to his role, but ultimately it is a serious role.  He is as much an outsider to the world of baseball as I was watching the film, but that objectivity allowed him to provide a way of building a team that didn't rely on experience, the history of the game, or even the love of the game; he stuck strictly to factual information and Beane took a chance that the gamble would work.

Hoffman, who is never anything less than an asset to whatever film he's in doesn't have a lot to do here, but his presence adds some toughness to the film.  Howe is an interesting character, but the screenplay does Hoffman a disservice by not offering to build the character a bit more.  He's someone I wanted to know more about, but that didn't fit the plan to tell what is essentially Beane's story.

Again, as a relative sports novice, I knew nothing of the way that the Oakland A's rebuilt their team in 2002, or just what Billy Beane and Peter Brand wrought upon the sport of baseball with their unconventional methods, but essentially the story is broader than the sports world.  It is, what film often is, the story of a man facing off against the odds to succeed, and Miller, Zaillian and Sorkin, and Pitt have all succeeded very well.

An American Tragedy: “Nixon” (1995)

Oscar nominees Anthony Hopkins and Joan Allen in a scene from the 1995 film "Nixon"

Oliver Stone has rarely (if ever) made a picture that didn’t embroil him into one type of controversy or another.  His screenplay for “Midnight Express” in 1978 made significant changes to a same-sex relationship that his main character entered into while in prison, and his later films like “Platoon” (1986) and “Born on the Fourth of July” (1989) also brought up questions about the accuracy of what he wrote compared to the reality of the situations of both.  But nothing came close to the brouhaha that enveloped his 1991 release “JFK”, and his 1995 film “Nixon”.  It seems that taking on icons of American politics proved to be too much for the press to bear, as they refused to accept the possibility that Stone was making a dramatic film, not a fact-by-fact documentary of his subject matter.

For as much of “Nixon” that might have been fabricated by Stone, I think it remains a fascinatingly interesting examination of one of the most vilified presidents of all time.  Stone’s style is dynamic, and keeps the picture from dragging even after it passes the two hour mark.  He intends for portions of the film to resemble old newsreels, and early 70’s era television camerawork, and it is this blend of filmmaking styles that creates a level of visual excitement within the film that matches the intrigue of its subject matter.

Moving in a free-form style, integrating flashbacks and asides into the narrative helps Stone to get a grasp on the slippery fish that was Nixon.  And if we never entirely get a clear picture of the man, it is no fault of the actor who gives a grand performance as the anti-hero of his own life story.  Anthony Hopkins didn’t earn the rewards for this role that he did for his earlier work in “The Silence of the Lambs”, but it is no less a memorable and impressive performance.  Not actually resembling Nixon, he must rely more on body language and dialogue than on any mere resemblance to his character.  And he does capture those essences of the man, so familiar to anyone who remembers the images of Nixon broadcast on television screens back in the early 1970’s; the slightly hunched posture, the stubborn scowl, the strident yet sometimes halting speech.

Hopkins is matched note-for-note by Joan Allen, who gives a commanding performance as Pat Nixon, which must’ve been a tougher accomplishment than Hopkins’, as the first lady did not have such a large role in the public imagination as did her husband.  Allen conveys the hopeful optimism, the questioning suspicions, and always the love of a spouse for their partner, even when questioning their actions and deeds.

The supporting cast is made up of a group of powerhouse actors, who use their talents in smaller roles, but with intensity that adds so much texture to the picture.  People like Ed Harris, James Woods, Mary Steenburgen, Powers Booth, J.T. Walsh, Bob Hoskins, David Hyde Pierce, E.G. Marshall, and Paul Sorvino build real people out of the characters that came to be embroiled in the drama of Watergate, and Stone uses them all to his advantage, filling the screen with these characters, each working their own agendas and playing their own roles in the Shakesperian tragedy that was to befall their leader.

And, like in Shakespeare, Nixon’s tragic flaw is ultimately the failing of his character.  His suspicions, obsessions, and whether he did or did not commit illegal acts could not keep him in his position of power for long.  As Stone sees it, he himself was entirely responsible for his downfall.

A Quarter Century of Raunchy Comedies: “Blazing Saddles” (1974) and “There’s Something About Mary” (1998)

I'm a self-admitted movie snob, but not so much that I can't enjoy the good raunchy thrill of a vulgar comedy, when one comes along that seems to celebrate bad taste and intentionally push buttons that need pushing.  And yet, I wonder, if in today’s overly politically correct climate, Mel Brooks would be able to bring his seminal raunchy western comedy “Blazing Saddles” to theater screens as he did in 1974.  Now, it’s true that the raunchy comedy has always enjoyed success of a degree at the box office, and from “American Pie” to “The Hangover”, there have occasionally been films that predicted a return to the success of very explicit comedies, but “Blazing Saddles” seems to be a horse of a different color, as it were.  The film’s reliance on racial stereotypes in comedy is still something that we as a nation don’t seem entirely comfortable with.  The audience laughs, yes, but is it truly the laughter invoked by humor, or is it the nervous “this is the part we’re supposed to laugh at, isn’t it?” with one eye looking over our shoulder to see if our neighbor is laughing too.

Besides the racial component of the comedy (which was partially scripted by Richard Pryor), there is also a reliance on the humor of bodily functions that was not seen in a major studio film up to that point in time.  Yes, I refer to the film’s infamous campfire scene.  Can we as an audience imagine a world in which this scene did not exist?  If so, would Jim Carrey had ever had a movie career to speak of?

Then there is the sexual component, most pointedly delivered in the persona of Lili Von Shtupp (a blistering parody of Marlene Dietrich that earned Madeline Kahn an Oscar nomination for the role).  The name itself is a vulgarism, and her scenes with Cleavon Little as the Sheriff mine the racial and sexual territories of the script for comic genius.  Gene Wilder, who would soon appear brilliantly in Brooks’ next film “Young Frankenstein” is somewhat wasted in the tame role of the gunfighter who helps save the town of Rock Ridge.  Harvey Korman, as the unctuous politician Hedley Lamarr is gleeful in his litany of bad deeds, and his good-hearted evilness adds a lot to the picture.  Brooks himself, as the goofball governor (as well as a suspiciously Yiddish Indian chief) pushes too hard in his scenes, taking the comedy off track and putting his own personality through too much rather than creating a comic character; it’s just Mel Brooks being Mel Brooks.

But here’s the thing about “Blazing Saddles”, unfortunately, when it isn’t pushing buttons on how far into bad taste we as an audience will accept in the name of comedy, it isn’t very interesting.  There are plenty of missteps in the film, to my mind the entire finale fails to work as it has destroyed the illusion of the movie that we’ve invested our time in for the past hour and a half.  The juxtaposition of the cowboys and a roomful of sashaying chorus boys is funny, as is their fight, but to me it seems that Brooks ran out of ideas, or energy, and just chose to end the film this way rather than finding a suitable conclusion for the whole mess.

If I prefer “There’s Something about Mary” to “Blazing Saddles”, it may be because I don’t share the tender affection for the old west in quite the way that Brooks’ film depends on to truly appreciate some of the humor.  Or perhaps I find the Farrelly Brothers efforts at gross-out humor to be, ultimately, more successful.

The jokes this time still include humor based on bodily functions, but I find the Ben Stiller- Cameron Diaz hair gel scene a delight of comic vulgarity, but as gross as it is, it still retains a bit of sweetness, and gives one of the best sight gags in the film.  ‘Mary’ celebrates adult humor, but it’s not dumbed down for it’s audience; there’s an intelligence to it.

Ben Stiller plays the perfect sort of everyman character, one who it totally believable catching his business in his zipper on prom night.  Stiller’s grounding of his character in reality helps the wacky work done by costars Matt Dillon, Chris Elliot, and Lee Evans so believable.  He’s the center of this comic vortex, and his everyday quality is what we identify with moreso than the deranged stalker boys played by Dillon, Elliot, and Evans.  Dillon especially gets away with some very anti PC statements regarding the mentally handicapped, that probably no other character in the film could get away with.

Cameron Diaz as well brings such a clean-scrubbed girl next door vibe to her portrayal of the sometimes foul-mouthed Mary that we completely accept her as the ideal of a modern woman, or at least one who would unleash such devotion among so many different men.  Diaz actually won the New York Film Critics Award for Best Actress in 1998 for this film, which I don’t entirely understand.  It’s not that she isn’t good in the role, because she is, but the film itself is so lightweight and so gleefully vulgar at times that I’d never believe such an august group of critics would find anything about the movie to honor.

And finally, how in the world can I resist any film that ends with a credits scene cast sing-a-long to “Build Me Up Buttercup”?

The True Nature of Friendship: "The Hasty Heart" (1949)

Future President Ronald Reagan and Oscar nominee  Richard Todd  in a scene from the 1949 film "The Hasty Heart".

From Warner Brothers in 1949 came this wartime melodrama concerning a group of soldiers recuperating at a military hospital unit in Burma.  There is the usual mixed-bag of characters, representing the different Allied countries: England, Australia, New Zealand, The United States, etc. with future President Ronald Reagan playing "Yank", the token American soldier in the unit.  Head nurse is stoic Sister Parker, played adequately by future Oscar winner Patricia Neal, with little of the emotion that colored her later work in films like "A Face in the Crowd" and "Hud".  But despite Reagan and Neal getting top billing in the picture, the dynamic performance in the film is delivered by third named Richard Todd, whose fresh screen presence earned him a well-deserved Academy Award Nomination for Best Actor, and helped win him a Golden Globe as the Best New Actor of the Year.

The ruggedly handsome Todd plays 'Lachie' McLaughlin, a brash, proud Scotsman who is a new arrival at the unit, and is very much a loner, unconcerned with things like friendship and polite civility to his fellow man.  Early on, Sister Parker and the other patients (as well as the audience) are told that Lachie is terminally ill, and has in essence been sent to this unit to die, which he himself is totally unaware of.  Despite the efforts of this mini UN of bunkmates to be friendly to the Scotsman, Lachie is aggresive and standoffish towards all the other patients and Sister Parker.  He refuses to allow anyone to do any favors for him, and claims he never wants to be indebted to another person.

Sister Parker's efforts at kindness towards Lachie are read by him as romantic interest, which he also has no time for; all he has in mind is returning to Scotland to finish paying for the farm that he longs to own.  Eventually though, he does come to accept the friendship of the other soldiers, after they present him with a uniform kilt for his birthday.  His initially suspicious, distrusting nature begins to melt away, and he suddenly becomes a chatty, gregarious fellow, inviting each of them to come and stay with him on his Scottish farm when they are released from the unit.  His personality towards Sister Parker also does a 180 turn, and he becomes so charmed by her that he proposes marriage to her.  She hesitantly accepts, but is torn because she knows the true nature of his health.

Later on, Lachie is informed of his condition by the head of the hospital, and reverts to his bitter, jaded outlook, spurning the friendship of the others, and telling them that he doesn't want their friendship which he assumes was based only on pity for him.  It is only through the efforts of Blossom, an apparently shell-shocked black patient of undetermined nationality, that he realizes that the other men's intentions were real and not based on his illness.  As he is preparing to leave the unit to return to Scotland to die, Lachie has a true change of heart and decides that he wants to stay at the unit and die among his friends, the only ones he's ever really had in his life.

Reagan and Neal are fairly pedestrian in their roles here, and are all but blown off the screen by Richard Todd.  He inhabits every bit of Lachie's starchy standoffishness perfectly, hiding his insecurities and lonliness inside a huge mixture of pride and self-respect.  Likewise, when Lachie initially accepts the men's friendship, Todd conveys the change in Lachie not merely through his words, which become lighter and more open, but also through his body language: he allows himself to be casual, even comfortable around his fellow soldiers and drops the stiff, defensive posture he's held since the picture's beginning.  Like the soldiers, the audience may have pity for Lachie and the unfairness of his fate, but ultimately our appreciation for him comes from the change that he makes within himself, allowing himself to enjoy and even need the companionship of other people.  It is a lesson in the true meaning of friendship that is delivered most of all by the grand work of Richard Todd in "The Hasty Heart", a not altogether bad way to spend a couple of hours, if you get the chance to see it.