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.