Review – The Longest Day

December 22, 2011

The Longest Day – U.S., 1962

War and comedy make odd bedfellows. When I say this I’m not talking about satirical war films like Dr. Strangelove that are about the insanity of war, but films that aim to depict war honesty, with all of its horrors exposed. When these films suddenly feel the need to stop being serious for a moment and let the audience take a breather and laugh before getting back to the battlefield, it comes across as pandering, as simply not having enough faith that the audience is mature enough to handle war without the occasional zany character disrupting the drama with his inane remarks. Picture this scene from Darryl F. Zanuck’s The Longest Day: a group of British troops fear that the enemy will attack at any moment, and there’s talk of them having to confront an enemy that is stronger and much better armed, when suddenly from an area shrouded in fog comes the sound of a lone bagpipe. Soon the bagpipe player becomes visible, and behind him proudly march a group of tired but determined reinforcements, surely a sight for sore eyes. Their appearance means that all is not lost, and those who were fearful are now joyous, for now at the very least they have a fighting chance of survival. It’s a powerful moment – that is, until some loud mouth makes a crack about hating the bagpipe and stuffs his ears with cloth to drown out the sound. The moment is meant to be lighthearted. However, it just comes across as dishonest.

Other moments also unwisely turn to humor: for example, a British soldier talks to a dummy called Rupert and extols it to do its duty for god, queen and country, a French man waves a flag as his house shakes from the blasts of bombs landing nearby, a priest repeatedly dives in a swamp surrounded by Germans and under heavy bombardment in search of a so-called “communion set,” and a British official brings a rather mangy looking mutt with him on a beach landing and then complains that the constant gunfire is disturbing him – all played for laughs and smiles. Now I have no idea whether incidents like this truly occurred during the Normandy landing in 1944, and I admit there is a chance that they did. However, these more jocular moments disrupt the film’s timing and slightly erode the overwhelming sense of dread and terror that so many scenes in the film create for viewers.

Take the scene in which American paratroopers land in the middle of enemy territory and are sitting ducks for the German army. In one of the film’s most haunting moments, a US soldier’s parachute gets stuck on a building fixture and for a stretch of time, he is powerless to act. All he can do is watch in dismay as other soldiers land and are overwhelmed instantly. Few scenes are as haunting as this one. There’s also a rather poignant moment in which members of the French army have to take a moment to come to terms with the fact that they are going to be firing on their own country in order to save it. It can’t be easy to wrap your head around a notion such as this one. It is during such moments as these that The Longest Day is truly at its most powerful.

And yet The Longest Day is not simply about the storming of Normandy or the military maneuvers that preceded it and made its success more probable. The film is also about the convergence of coincidences on the German side that helped ensure the Allies’ success. The film allows viewers to see events from the German point of view, and what we see is a picture of confusion, a lack of an effective command structure, a great deal of overconfidence, and a slight lack of backbone when it comes to communicating with Hitler. In the film, Germans are at first unsure what is going on, and when they finally comprehend it, the generals are powerless to act without the verbal authority of Hitler himself, who apparently took a sedative and was sleeping when the Normandy invasion began. Once he woke up, he was is a terrible mood, and therefore, not wanting to anger him more, no one told him about the invasion. As a result, German panzers sat idle during the attack.

The first forty minutes of the film are devoted to showing the run up to the invasion. We see the soldiers complaining about the food and the weather, high ranking officials spreading amongst themselves the rumor that today is the day when General Eisenhower will order the invasion, and last minute preparations and instructions before the troops and their commanders head off for France. I suppose showing this part of the Normandy invasion is understandable, yet to me this part of the film took too much time, and too many perspectives were included when one would have sufficed. For example, when Eisenhower decides the operation is a go, we get multiple reactions. We see a US colonel throw his cup of coffee on the ground and run out of a vacant mess hall, a US general silently say, “God help us now,” and a British lord announces that they are on their way. Just one of these would probably have sufficed.

The Longest Day has an incredible ensemble cast, even if many of the big stars are not in very much of the film. John Wayne plays Lt. Col. Benjamin Vandervoort, who leads a squadron of troops even though he can hardly walk; Robert Mitchum appears as Brig. Gen. Norman Coda, one of the last remaining soldiers from a pre-1940 squad; and Henry Fonda shows up all too briefly as General Theodore Roosevelt, who leads his troops into battle despite needing a cane to walk with. The cast also includes Sean Connery, Paul Anka, Sal Mineo, and Roddy McDowall just to name a few. Some of them appear in only one or two scenes; others you’ll miss completely if you blink.

The Longest Day remains a powerful and informative film. We see the Normandy landing as it truly was – chaotic, dangerous, and inspiring. The film does not sugarcoat the event, and those in charge of leading the invasion reflect often on the number of men who have been lost. And while later films may have been able to be more honest when it comes to the graphic nature of war, I suspect that few viewers will feel that the films more PG-depiction of war lessens the experience at all. In addition, there are no awkward bookends, and there is no sense of completion by the time the film’s ending credits hit the screen, for what is depicted in the film is one very long day in a struggle that continued for another ten months. Yes, the film could have been short, and yes, there are too many characters to keep track of. However, all of this helps viewers get a complete, albeit somewhat Hollywoodized, picture of the invasion. And who knows, maybe people really did all of those humorous things on the battlefield. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

3 and a half stars

Review – Cape Fear

September 15, 2011

Cape Fear – US, 1962

Sometimes timing is indeed everything. The original Cape Fear was released just one year after Town without Pity, Gottfried Reinhardt’s searing indictment of a legal system that has periodically allowed alleged rape victims to be questioned as if they were the ones on trial. In the film, the practice has tragic consequences for the young girl the law should have protected. In a way, Cape Fear picks up where Town without Pity left off. Its antagonist is a criminal who is well aware of how the legal system works and of just how easily it can be manipulated to make it seem like the victim of a sex crime was in fact a willing participant. In one particularly telling scene, a traumatized victim is pleaded with to testify against her attacker. She reflects upon the TV coverage that is sure to follow if she does, on the pictures in the print media, the never-ending questions, the presence of her parents in the courtroom, and her own conflicted feelings of shame and anger and decides to get on the first train out of town. The private investigator seems to understand her decision.

Cape Fear is essentially a psychological thriller in which a recently released criminal named Max Cady (Robert Mitchum) seeks revenge against Sam Bowden (Gregory Peck), the man whose testimony put Cady behind bars for eight and a half years. Cady went in to prison a violent sociopath; when he got out, he was even more dangerous - a violent sociopath with enough knowledge of the law to make it virtually impossible for law enforcement to stop him. And as the film progresses, Cady’s actions becomes increasingly more sinister, and in turn Bowden’s become more desperate, culminating in a thrilling conclusion that, if you really think about it, remains highly questionable both legally and morally.

In most movies of this sort, the person hell bent of revenge hides in the shadows and waits for the perfect moment to strike. It’s the anticipation of a strike, as well as the eerie music that often accompanies it, that most often creates suspense in viewers. However, Cape Fear is different, for Cady doesn’t hide. From the film’s opening scene in a crowded courtroom, it’s clear that he wants to be seen. When his attempt is unsuccessful, he follows Bowden to his car, reaches in through an open window, and yanks the keys out of the ignition before Bowden can drive off, thereby ensuring that Cady is noticed this time. His Cuban hat and long cigar help to ensure that even those without any history with him are able to spot him a mile away, which is by design of course, for knowing that there is nothing keeping him away from his prey makes him all the more frightening. I’d go so far as to say that he’s one of the most terrifying villains ever put on film.

Mitchum and Peck give terrific performances, and the two men play off each other well. I would venture that Mitchum’s performance is the one people will talk about, but that’s probably because his character, much like the Joker in The Dark Knight, is trying to provoke a response from a character that believes in both social and legal order, and it’s only in Peck’s subtle, stoic performance that we can see just how good Cady is at this game. I also enjoyed the scenes between Bowden and his wife Nancy (Lori Martin). The two of them talk to each other with remarkable honesty, and more than once, she pulls him back from the brink just before he crosses a line that no one should cross. In addition, the film ends on a rather powerful note, and Bowden’s final words are as thought-provoking today as they were when the film was first released. I wonder what it says about us that they don’t appear in the remake. (on DVD)

4 stars

Review - The Night of the Hunter

September 10, 2010

The Night of the Hunter – U.S., 1955

I’m of two minds about Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter. If someone were to proclaim it a masterpiece of cinematography and imagery, praise it for its genius use of shadows and light, and laud the performances of its entire cast, I would probably find myself agreeing for the most part. Yet if someone were to call it an odd, disjointed film with abrupt moments of overacting and illogical decision-making by a few of its central characters, I would be unable to find fault with that assessment either. After all, if someone told me he’d be back later to kill someone, I’d be on the phone with authorities faster than you could say get off my property, regardless of whether they would trample my flower bed.

The Night of the Hunter has a doozey of a premise. The central character is a man named Harry Powell (played by Robert Mitchum), a self-proclaimed preacher who just also happens to be a murderer and a thief. In the film’s opening scene, we see him driving at a rather leisurely pace, talking aloud to his god in much the same way we have seen preachers in other films do – his voice resounds with a thoughtful, appreciative tone, as if he is truly grateful for all that has been given to him. And just what is it that he has to be thankful for? Nothing less than ill-gotten gains, the life savings of young widows whom he wooed and murdered, and his continual escape from authorities. Powell himself puts the number of widows that he has killed somewhere between six and twelve, and he shows no remorse for his deeds, proclaiming perfume, “lacey things” and curly hair to be stuff that the Lord hates. In fact, just the sight of these sinful things is enough to make him open the black and white switchblade he conveniently carries in his pocket. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction.

Much of The Night of the Hunter has to do with Powell’s attempts to retrieve ten thousand dollars that a cell mate of his named Ben Harper (Peter Graves) hid just before he was arrested. After Harper’s death sentence is carried out, Powell makes his way to the town where the man’s widow lives. His arrival is one of the best shots in the film. As Ben’s young son John (Billy Chapin) is reassuring his sister Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) that he will always protect her, even striking a pose somewhat akin to that commonly seen on posters of Superman, Powell’s menacing shadow appears on the wall behind John, foreshadowing the coming battle between good and evil. Powell wants the money, and only John and Pearl know where it is. And thus begins a struggle for something that realistically neither one of them should have.

There’s part of me that wants to go along with the masses and proclaim The Night of the Hunter to be a masterpiece. The good people over at Spectre magazine agree with this assessment so strongly that they recently ranked the film #1 on their list of the fifty greatest films of all time, and while I don’t usually put much stock in lists of this kind, when a film is given the top spot on any list, I tend to take notice. On the one hand, there is a lot to praise The Night of the Hunter for. For one thing, the film is consistently involving and terrifying. Powell is truly menacing, and viewers will likely find themselves worrying about the safety of Ben Harper’s family. In addition, Powell’s effect on Ben Harper’s widow Willa (Shelley Winters) is utterly fascinating, as well as tragic. Powell convinces her that it was she who was responsible for turning her husband into a thief, and in one truly terrifying scene, we see Willa confess her horrible love of material possessions to Powell’s congregation. The scene is dark and illuminated only by a few lit torches, giving it the feeling of one of the Salem witch trials instead of a church service. In a later scene, Powell tells John, “It’s me your mother believes,” revealing the depths to which Willa has fallen under Powell’s spell. The final duel between Powell, the false preacher, and Ms. Cooper (Lillian Gish), for whom religion is a powerful force for good, is both suspenseful and beautiful simultaneously. They even sing a duet together, which doesn’t exactly fit the genre, but perhaps fits the circumstances.

And yet I can’t completely get over just how strange some moments of the film are – Powell’s oddly ineffective explanation of the words written out on his knuckles, Pearl’s sudden lullaby as she and her brother are floating down a river on a small row boat, the way Ms. Rachel Copper keeps turning to the camera and speaking to the audience, the final’s final monologue about children’s ability to endure all kinds of hardship. Was that really what the film was about? Strange moments can sometimes diminish a film, snapping viewings back to reality and making them question what they see rather than being involved in it. Thankfully, this does not happen too often in The Night of the Hunter.

Despite a few misgivings about the film, I remain incredibly impressed with it, though perhaps a little more impressed with the technical aspects of the film than the narrative aspects. For the most part, Mitchum is extraordinary as Preacher Powell, although there are a few noticeable moments of overacting, such as the moment when Powell gets his hand caught in the basement door. Young Billy Chapin is believable as well, and it was a joy to finally be able to hear the legendary Lillian Gish’s voice. While I’m not yet ready to declare the film a masterpiece, I remain of the opinion that the film is a remarkable piece of work. Perhaps my esteem will grow even more upon repeat viewings. (on DVD; the Criterion Collection will release the film on DVD and Blu-Ray on November 16, 2010.)

4 stars