Review - Sadie Thompson (1928)

July 30, 2020

Sadie Thompson – US, 1928

I am always fascinated by people like Alfred Davidson. Davidson is one of the lead characters in Raoul Walsh’s exceptional Sadie Thompson, yet men like him have existed for millennia. They don’t have faith that there is a god – they have certainty - and that conviction has led many of them to venture to faraway lands, where they seek to stamp out traditions that they are certain God disapproves of.  And the reward they offer for converting is a state of grace that will only be had if what they are certain of is actually true. It’s a tough sell, but one made much easier with the backing of the military or, in Davidson’s case, a like-minded local official.

In the opening scene of Sadie Thompson, we watch as Davidson (Lionel Barrymore) and his wife approach the capital of American Samoa, Pago Pago. He has come to rid the island of its moral failings, one of which appears to be the love of dancing. Also on the ship is a young woman from San Francisco named Sadie Thompson (Gloria Swanson), and she is an immediate hit with the American soldiers stationed on the island. She encourages their attention, openly flirts with a few of them, and is not offended by some of their more juvenile actions. She even invites them into her room to listen to jazz. In other words, she is the kind of woman that Davidson considers in need of either saving or punishment.

What follows is thoroughly fascinating, a game of one-upmanship, in which Davidson clearly has the upper hand. Soon his obsession begins to resemble road rage, for in his eyes, the ends – Sadie’s moral salvation – clearly justify the means, regardless of the trauma it inflicts. He is never a completely sympathetic character, yet I found it hard to cast his as a villain. True villains are usually aware of the destruction they seek to inflict; this description doesn’t quite fit Davidson. He just doesn’t know any other way, and there’s a satisfaction that creeps across his face when he begins to succeed which reveals an absence of malice. His enemy seems to be sin, not the individual. Well, at least for a while, that is.  

Throughout her career, Swanson excelled at playing strong characters, and with Sadie, she hit the jackpot. Her body language exudes confidence, her facial expression early on is one of pure joy, and her demeanor reveals a character aware of the importance of making the most of each moment. Surrounded by adoring young men, she is in heaven, yet unlike so many later heroines, nothing indicates that she is looking for someone to save her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Sadie, it turns out, is on her way to begin a job on a different cruise ship. I guess you could call her an example of the modern woman, and Swanson is the perfect actress to convey this.

There is, of course, Sergeant Tim O’Hara (played by Raoul Walsh himself). In a movie like this, there almost has to be, but I find myself wishing that weren’t so. O’Hara is first introduced as shy and quiet, but we know it won’t be long before Sadie brings him out of his shell. The scenes with the couple are interesting, and they certainly make a good case for love eventually developing.  However, if you think about it rationally, the timeline is ridiculous. A two-day courtship; three-day separation; a proposal on their sixth day of acquaintance. It’s the kind of set-up that makes a mother pull his son aside and ask him if he’s sure he’s given the whole thing due consideration. But there’s another reason why the inclusion of the romantic storyline seems unwise. If Sadie is truly an example of the modern woman and if the movie is advocating for acceptance of type of woman, it seems counterproductive for it to reward modernity with traditionalism.

In her later years, Swanson lamented that some of what she regarded as her greatest films no longer existed. Sadly, according to Wikipedia, 19 of her films have been lost, including Bluebeard’s 8^th Wife and Madame Sans-Gene, and who knows what the conditions of her lesser-known films are. Thus, we are lucky to have Sadie Thompson, and it is one of the best showcases of Swanson’s talent, as well as a reminder of why audiences made her the second most popular actress in Hollywood behind Mary Pickford. However, it too is incomplete; the film’s finale, containing a dramatic interaction between Sadie and Davidson, no longer exists. I watched Kino’s DVD of the film, and fortunately, they have recreated the scene using new intertitles, stock photos, and a few moments from the 1932 remake, Rain.  I’m grateful for the effort, even as I lament what once was.

I feel like I’m not fully expressing my admiration for the film. Here is a perfectly-paced film of great intensity involving two fascinating characters and the tragedy that ensues upon their chance encounter. It spotlights a time of great change in American culture, when the population was still coming to terms with the effects of technology, medicine, music, movies, psychology, and the right to vote on society. It is no surprise that the first reaction to a woman like Sadie is shock and disapproval. After all, just look at the difference between Sadie and Mrs. Davidson. One blurts out profanity like a sailor; the other covers her ears and runs out of the room. Guess which one Mr. Davidson married. Now guess which one he secretly pines for. (on DVD)

4 and a half stars

*Gloria Swanson was nominated for Best Actress for her work in Sadie Thompson. She lost to Janet Gaynor.

Review - The Last Command (1928)

January 31, 2020

The Last Command – U.S., 1928

The first Academy Awards in 1928 were pretty good to Josef Von Sternberg. His film Underworld won Ben Hecht the first statue for Original Story, a category that was discontinued in 1956. Interestingly, the only other film in contention was The Last Command, also directed by Von Sternberg. Emil Jannings took home the first Best Actor award for his performances in The Last Command and The Way of the Flesh, from which sadly only about three and a half minutes of footage survive. (1928 was the only year in which nominees could win for multiple films.) And to top all that off, The Last Command, according to John Harkness’s The Academy Award Handbook at least, was nominated for Best Picture, so all in all, a rather successful year.

Underworld is a film about a gangster and his relationship with his girlfriend, Feathers, which starts him on a downward spiral involving jealousy and distrust. In The Last Command, Von Sternberg turned his lens toward the Soviet Union and told a story of post-revolution tragedy. It is not a film that looks at Czarist Russia with regret or longing for what had been lost, nor does it present the revolutionaries as complete saints or innocent victims of state repression. Instead, it looks at these times with an objective view. There were decent people on all sides; there were unscrupulous people on all sides. For every army general we see partying as soldiers are sent off to their deaths, there’s a revolutionary whose only motivation for revolution seems to be to be able to physically abuse and verbally mock those who benefited during the Czar’s rule. In fact, the only person truly depicted as thoroughly imbecilic is the Czar himself.

The film begins in 1928 Hollywood, but most of it takes place in 1917 and the waning days of Russia’s involvement in the First World War. In 1928, we learn that a Russian director has come to Hollywood to shoot a film for which droves of extras will be needed. In a stack of head shots, he comes across one of an older gentleman who claims he used to be a Grand Duke in the Russian Army. He is of course chosen to be in the film, but the look on the director’s face is not one of mere satisfaction at having cast the part; there’s something else in his eyes – a look of recognition, perhaps? Later, the old man will add a medal to his costume, a gift, he explains to his mocking co-workers, from the Czar himself. The remark is met with derision, yet soon the film flashes back to 1917, and we see the veracity of his story and the events that led to his fall from grace.

The flashbacks can be said to comprise of two parts. In the first, the Grand Duke meets and decides to woo a woman named Natalie, who may be a revolutionary. The Grand Duke seems to be judging her with his libido, making the assessment that a woman who is that attractive couldn’t possibly be an enemy. In his defense, Natalie is suspect is being part of the Resistance, not a spy for whom seduction and murder would be a requirement of the job. Still, she doesn’t give the Grand Duke much in the way of encouragement, which renders the Grand Duke a little foolish. Exactly which signs is he misreading?

In the second part of the film, the resistance makes their move, and the Grand Duke’s fate is decided. He will leave that part of the film the broken man we see in the opening scenes of the film. These scenes are emotional, frighteningly violent, and extremely well filmed. Their closest equivalents are the climaxes of Eisenstein’s Strike and The Battleship Potempkin. Von Sternberg captures the madness of the moment, the crowds thirst for blood, and the army’s lack of concern for civilian casualties. Von Sternberg shows the Grand Duke being practically stripped of his honor and manhood, while simultaneously giving us views into the revenge-crazy eyes of the crowd shouting for the death of anyone they view as sending their countrymen into a war that is not theirs. Von Sternberg shows both sides committing what would today be viewed as war crimes. I was blown away by these scenes.

If I have a complaint about the film, it is its unsatisfying portrayal of Natalie. This is a character who begins the film vowing that the days are numbered for those who are “dragging Russia down.” Clearly, this includes the Grand Duke, but after a few dinners, gifts, and a heartfelt patriotic comment, she’s portrayed as suddenly losing her resolve. Why? I thought it was just a pick-up line, one a woman like Natalie would clearly have seen right through, yet there she is a few scenes later looking starry-eyed and melting into the Grand Duke’s big arms as he utters one of the corniest and most problematic lines I’ve heard in some time: “From now on, you are my prisoner-of-war…and my prisoner-of-love.”

The Last Command features a stunning performance by Emil Jannings. In fact, I can’t think of a movie that Jannings is not astonishing in. Here, he starts the film out physically and emotionally broken, and he fully embodies this, from his slow pace, and shaking head to the loss apparent in his eyes. And yet watch him as he takes out a medal he was given by the Czar. Jannings doesn’t smile or stand upright in pride; doing so would put him at odds with the audience. Instead, the way he does it reveals its significance to him: It is his way of signaling that despite the toll his experiences have had on him, he has not been broken, and he is not ashamed. Also stellar in the film is Evelyn Brent as Natalie. While there are problems with the arc of the character, those are not reflected in her confident, emotional performance. In a way, she has the harder role of the two leads. She has to go from embracing violence to expressing appreciation and even love for the man who she formerly viewed as her enemy. And then there’s her turn toward the end. Look at her eyes. They pierce your soul and send you on a roller coaster of emotions. That she wasn’t nominated for Best Actress is a travesty.

The Last Command remains an unforgettable film. It contains commentary on Hollywood that is both humorous and enormously telling. Parts of it are filmed in a way that fully convey the luxury afforded to the ruling class (The Grand Duke is the Czar’s cousin.), while others bring to mind the chaos of war and revolution and remind us that often what defines heroes and villains is simply the viewpoint of the victor. Is the ending a bit too conventional? Perhaps, but it may not have been in 1928. Even now, it has the power to bring a tear to even the most hardened of moviegoers, and that says something. The Last Command is truly one for the ages. (on DVD and Blu-ray as part of Criterion’s 3 Silent Classics By Josef Von Sternberg)

4 and a half stars

*The Last Command is a silent film.

Review - Gold (1934)

September 28, 2019

Gold – Germany, 1934

There’s a reason why Goldfinger resonates much more than other Bond films, especially the later ones, and it’s that the stakes seem so believable. The goal of the villains is not world domination or taking over every computer in the world, but rather triggering the collapse of the US economy and basking in the ensuing chaos. These lofty goals can be achieved because of a simple reality in 1964 – the gold standard. This was, of course, not a new revelation, for economists and politicians had likely been aware of this risk since the early days of global trading and interlocked economies. It is also the subject of Karl Hartl’s 1934 Gold.

In the film, a team of three scientists, Professor Achenbach (Friedrich Kayssler); his assistant, Professor Werner Holk (Hans Albers), and an engineer named Becker,  is hard at work on a machine that, on paper, can turn lead into gold – in other words, a mechanical version of the mythical philosopher’s stone, the earliest mention of which appears to be around ADE 300. In an early scene, we get pretty obvious hints that someone doesn’t want them to succeed, and pretty soon, Becker is seen sabotaging the machine at the behest of some shadowy organization. Of the three men, only Holk survives the ensuing explosion, and he only does so because the woman he is dating happens to have the same blood type as he. Interestingly, the doctors seem hesitant at first to accept her as a blood donor, and I can only assume that this is the result of some erroneous belief about the physical strength of women.

Like many cinematic heroes, Holk cannot put the past behind him, and therefore it’s not hard to predict that he’ll stop at nothing to unmask the murderer of his friend and mentor. However, while other films of this genre have average people suddenly becoming super sleuths or athletic supermen seemingly overnight, Gold is content to leave Holk exactly the way he is – a scientist seemingly in his late thirties or early forties with no skills as a marksmen and in hardly the shape to chase a suspect across rooftops or through busy downtown districts. In fact, he’s never even undercover. When “invited” by John Wills (Michael Bohnen), an English businessman with a reputation for being ruthless and not letting simple matters such as laws and regulations stand in his way, to complete a device that looks remarkably like the one Holk was working on with the professor, he is immediately suspicious, and Wills is as equally distrusting of him. However, you know what they say about desperate times.

Wills and his gang are classic adventure, sci-fi villains, replete with hordes of henchmen and secret underground lairs that are said to be 200 miles under the Atlantic Ocean and accessible only through an elaborate system of subways and box cars. As for the actual transformation contraption, it resembles a morbid Christmas displays surrounded by tree-shaped cones and topped off with odd cone-like, skyward-facing cylinders, from which you’d expect either fireworks or cannonballs to be launched. In other words, it’s a physical monstrosity capable of creating even more insidious horrors. It reminded me of the underground world of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis and the many lairs of Spectre.

For much of the first half of the film, the focus is on Holk’s quest for revenge and his schemes to put himself in the optimal position to achieve it. I remember wondering if he or anyone else had considered the real world implications of making gold such a common acquisition. Fortunately, this is a large part of the second half of the film, which even includes a montage of the panic that engulfs the markets in the days following Wills’ announcement that his company will soon be able to produce gold at will. I was also impressed by the way the film lets you know Holk’s plot, but then takes its time in enacting it, so much so that I found myself engulfed in questions about his methods and motives, the answers to which, I’m happy to report, are well worth the wait.

I have a few minor quibbles with the film. The addition of a love conflict is unnecessary and not entirely realistic, even though it is performed admirably by the actors involved. The film is also a bit too expository for its own good. At times, conversations in which key details are revealed go on too long and are slightly repetitive. Ending them sooner would have created more suspense, and I wondered if someone like Holk would be as open about his plans as he is. None of these objections, though, disrupts the rhythm of the film too much or diminishes any of the tension created throughout. And the ending doesn’t disappoint, with secrets revealed, fates handed down and humanity facing moral and financial self-destruction. It’s really only then that you can take a breath.

Gold is lesser known that other films of its era, perhaps owing to Hartl’s controversial work as the director of film production during the years in which the Nazi government had control of the Austrian film industry, as well as the popularity of Fritz Lang’s films, especially Metropolis, with which Gold shares a number of similarities. I hope that it’s discovered by a larger audience, though. It is extremely well acted, tightly constructed, and tremendously thought-provoking. I’d even go so far as a call it a near masterpiece. It’s that good. (on DVD and Blu-ray from Kino Classics)

4 and a half stars

*Gold is in German with English subtitles.

Review - Sparrows (1926)

October 12, 2017

Sparrows – US, 1926

I’m on record as saying that Mary Pickford could do no wrong, and there is nothing in her 1926 film Sparrows that would dispel me of this notion. Nine years removed from her sweet performance as a neglected child in The Poor Little Rich Girl, Pickford, 34 when Sparrows was released, still retained her youthful appearance and all of the charms and syrupiness that came with it. By then, she was no stranger to the type of role she plays in Sparrows, but, in this case, familiarity breeds a feeling of comfortable pleasure. You know what you are getting with her, and it still amazes.

In Sparrows, Pickford plays a young orphan named Molly, known more affectionately to the abandoned or lost children she takes care of as “Mama” Molly. The orphans all live and work on a farm owned by Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, and as you can tell by their moniker, they are hardly the type of people that should be raising children. In fact, early on in the film the swampland that they live on is introduced as the “Devil’s share of creation” with Mr. Grimes as its logical tenant. He has an air of gothic villainy to him, walks with a limp, and has a slight hunch. His land is made up of hog dens, vegetables patches, and an eerie quicksand-like swamp that is described as having no bottom – a fitting metaphor for the Netherworld. Throughout the film, he even references tossing children into the swamp when they either acted up or were no longer of use to him. In other words, he is every bit the kind of dark, oppressive villain that often occupies children’s nightmares.

It’s helpful to bear in mind that two years before the film was released the US Congress had introduced a constitutional amendment outlawing child labor one that was not ratified. This had followed two Supreme Court rulings overturning laws that had aimed to do the same thing. Sadly, it was not until 1938 that child labor officially became illegal. Therefore, Sparrows stands as a view into an America that was still struggling to protect its most vulnerable citizens from exploitation; however, it is also a look into a country trying to find its way on the issue. It is telling that Molly keeps the children’s spirits up by telling them about the goodness of God and repeating, regardless of how bleak their situation is, that they have not been forgotten. Mr. Grimes, on the other hand, is portrayed as a heathen much more concerned with acquiring wealth than achieving salvation. It is clear where the film’s – and by extension the audience’s - sentiments lie.

Director William Beaudine strikes a perfect balance between the film’s lighter, more kid-friendly moments and its much heavier undertones. We see the energy Molly puts into caring for the children, and these scenes have a tenderness that convincingly establishes her as the matriarch of the group. Such moments are interspersed – often in the same scene – by ones of raw emotion and occasional peril. In one of them, Molly works feverishly to nurse a malnourished infant named Amy back to health, only to have to watch helplessly as her condition worsens. A later scene in which we learn Amy’s fate is particularly touching, and I can imagine it bringing more than a few tears to audiences that saw it in the theater.

Much of the first half of Sparrows depicts Molly and the other childen’s daily trials and tribulations. In one of those horribly sweet scenes that you want to slap yourself for being amused by, the children hold a spontaneous competition to see whose stomach is “emptier.” The second half of the film changes the pace significantly. In it, Grimes becomes involved in a major crime, and Molly must become even more of a protector than she has ever been. This involves going on one of the greatest journeys ever put on film, one which retains all of the suspense it had on the big screen in 1926.

Throughout it all, there’s Pickford, smiling, scolding, reacting in ways that transcend the screen. She skillfully navigates the treacherous waters of a film of this sort, one which in lesser hands might feel forced and uneven. She makes us feel Molly’s concern, her love for the children in her care, and the conviction of her faith. Those people who know and understand silent film acting will once again be in awe of what she is able to do in front of the camera.

I suppose I could find something to nitpick about - perhaps the ending - but when a movie works as well as Sparrows does, it just seems wrong to do so. Sparrows is truly one of the greats of the Silent Era – timely in 1926 and a poignant reminder now of what was and still is in some parts of the word. It is a film that director Ernst Lubitsch once praised as “one of the eight wonders of the world.” It is a description that seems wholly appropriate. My only question is this: What are the other seven? (on DVD as part of the Mary Pickford Rags & Riches Collection)

4 and a half stars

Review - Under the Hawthorn Tree

August 22, 2013

Under the Hawthorn Tree – China, 2010

Legend has it that below a particular hawthorn tree in the Chinese countryside, several soldiers sacrificed their lives for their country. As each one was struck down, their blood seeped into the ground and was absorbed by the hawthorn tree, making the tree stronger and turning its normally white flowers a shade of red. It is a tale that is recited proudly by a young man to a group of high school seniors sent into the countryside as part of Mao’s drive to “build classrooms in the fields.”  Later, it is revealed that one of these students has been given the task of recording the tales associated with that particular hawthorn tree, which begs the question: If the legend is common knowledge, what is the point of sending someone all the way there to write it down? Of course, it is hard to make sense of much of what happened during the Cultural Revolution.

The chaos of those years provides a backdrop for the events depicted in the film, but in truth, it should be said that Zhang Yimou’s Under the Hawthorn Tree is not as overtly critical or political as his earlier masterpiece To Live. It is a story of survival during trying times and a love story set during years that were difficult for both romance and love. As we are reminded throughout the film, at that time, one misstep, one rumor, one charge of scandal or impropriety could lead to lifelong ruin.

Early in the film, Jing, the young woman writing about the hawthorn tree, is introduced to a young man named Sun, who is in the area as part of a Geological Exploration Unit. Jing first sees him from afar, and it is obvious that she is affected by him immediately. Grins keep creeping onto her face, and her eyes grow a bit wider than usual. The feelings are mutual. However, for Sun’s part, he plays it cool. He laughs, makes small talk and offers Jing and her young companion a piece of candy. She initially declines his gift, but eventually changes her mind. It is a pattern that repeats itself throughout the film, and each of Sun’s gifts brings them a little bit closer until one day they are walking hand in hand through the forest.

Under the Hawthorn Tree could easily have followed in the footsteps of Joan Chen’s heartbreaking film Xiu Xui: The Send-Down Girl, yet Zhang does not seem interested in telling that side of the sent-down girl’s experience. While there is one instance of a man wooing and abandoning a young woman after he has “succeeded” with her, this is not Jing and Sun’s story. Theirs is a story involving a mutual attraction, a budding romance, an unfortunate separation, and a brief loosening of the society-imposed restraints that seek to ensure that they do not cross particular lines. To maintain the focus on the two lead characters, Zhang employs intertitles to move from one of their meetings to the next. The technique is slightly off-putting at first, but it is ultimately the right one. In each successive scene, it is clear that they are grower closer.

Zhang Yimou is a master at making these kinds of films, and anyone who has enjoyed his early work will no doubt enjoy this one as well. It is perfectly paced, thoroughly believable throughout, and extremely touching. In fact, it may be one of the best romances in the last decade. Zhou Dongyu is a revelation as Jing. She is able to capture and express to the audience an amazing array of emotions, and she often does this sans dialogue. Shawn Dou is equally impressive as Sun, and it is easy to see how torn he is over his youthful, often conflicting emotions. He is the perfect gentleman, but we can tell that there is much he wishes to do with Jing that he must not do. In fact, his performance brought to mind Toshiro Mifune’s role as the repressed doctor in Akira Kurosawa’s underappreciated The Quiet Duel.

In another decade, Under the Hawthorn Tree would have opened in big-market cities throughout the United States simply because it bore the phrase directed by Zhang Yimou. Those days have clearly passed. According to IMDB, the film opened in China in September 2010, has been shown at several film festivals, and had brief theatrical runs in just a handful of countries in Asia and Europe. It has not opened in North America, and it not available on either DVD or Blu-ray in the United States. This is a shame, for the film is a real treasure. It is superbly directed, has a beautiful, moving script, and contains some of the sweetest characters I’ve seen in a film for quite some time. In addition, unlike many contemporary romances, there is not a single scene in the film that does not feel authentic, forced, or overly scripted. It is a film that deserves to be discovered. (on DVD in Region 3)

4 and a half stars

*Under the Hawthorn Tree is in Chinese with English subtitles.

Review - The Misfits

July 11, 2013

The Misfits – U.S., 1961

John Huston’s The Misfits may be one of the saddest movies I’ve ever seen. It is a film that looks at the post-World War II years and sees very but decay. Chivalry is on its last breathe, and many men have regressed into voyeurs with little impulse control. Divorce is rampant, and very few of the people in the film have the slightest notion of what love is, which makes their pursuit of it all the more challenging. The film stars Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe, and it would be the last film for both of them. Gable died of a heart attack shortly after completing the film. He was 59. Monroe died at the age of 36 in 1962, and her death, so inconceivable to a great many people, would go on to be associated with the kinds of conspiracies many hoped only took place in movies.

In the film, Monroe plays Roslyn Taber, an unhappy woman who, in the film’s opening scene, is preparing for her upcoming divorce hearing. Her companion, an older woman named Isabelle Steers (Thelma Ritter), listens patiently as Roslyn rehearses her testimony, and when she can’t remember what to say, Isabelle feeds her lines to her calmly. The words are a lie, but they are the kind that a judge at this time will accept as grounds for divorce. Roslyn’s real reasons for seeking to end her marriage provide a revealing look into both America’s changing attitudes and its collective mental health. Roslyn’s husband, she explains, was never there, even when she was, and if she’s going to be alone, she’d rather be alone by herself. It is a sentiment that hints at both women’s newfound sense of personal freedom and the effects that the Second World War and the Korean War had on some of the men who fought them.

After the divorce is granted, Roslyn and Isabelle go for a drink and happen upon Guidi (Eli Wallach), the mechanic who gave them a ride to the courthouse and Gay Langland (Clark Gable). The two of them are cowboys, “the last real men in the world,” according to Isabelle, and “as reliable as jack rabbits.” The two men convince Roslyn that what she needs is a trip to the countryside, and she agrees, but only if Isabelle goes with them and if they go in their own car. That way she won’t have to rely on either of them for transportation back. The move shows Roslyn’s determination to take control of her life and to protect herself. However, something she says in the same scene reveals a third reason for her caution. When asked how she feels about being free once again, she replies worried, worried that she’ll find herself in the same situation all over again. Is it the men she’s worried about, or is it her troubling tendency to choose the wrong men? Perhaps it is both. How else can you explain the fact that she winds up with Langland?

The romantic in all of us may want to see The Misfits as a romance. However, reality should convince us otherwise. At one point, Langland calls Roslyn the saddest girl he knows, which surprises her for everyone else says she’s happy. That, he explains, is because she makes them feel happy. Left unsaid is the reason she makes them happy, which has much more to do with physical attraction than it does spiritual connection. After all, someone that felt deeply connected to Roslyn would try to understand the way she thinks and not dismiss her somewhat peculiar musings with condescending remarks such as you say the dardest things. Roslyn though is blind to this. She prefers to give simple acts of politeness much more significance than they deserve. She has to. It is her last effort to cling to the romantic notions placed in her by fairy tales and movies.

Throughout The Misfits, its characters continually grasp to the familiar, even as time and technology render it obsolete. The Wild West is now tame, and the cowboy can no longer roam as he once did. In one of the film’s most poignant scenes, we witness an act that countless cowboys have engaged in over the years, and yet it has clearly lost its grandeur. It now seems cruel to forcefully pull animals out of their natural habitats, especially given what happens to them after they are captured. Equally troubling is the rodeo. If the cowboy, one of the symbols of America’s pioneering spirit, has lost some of his significance, what then are we to make of those activities associating with modern cowboys? Is there a point to mounting an animal against its will and competing to see who can ride it the longest? Perhaps not, and yet these are the actions that the characters in The Misfits cling to as proof of their continual relevance. They are not completely blind, though. As Langland astutely observes, he’s doing the same thing he’s always done. It’s other people that have changed. He’s right. He and his friends are just a few of the many people that technology and changing attitudes have left behind.

The Misfits is filled with fascinating characters, each given life and poignancy by very talented actors and actresses. Along with Monroe and Gable, there’s Wallach as Guido, Langland’s longtime friend who has two very tragic stories tell, and Montgomery Cliff as Perce Howland, a traumatized cowboy reduced to doing rodeo shows for a living. Both of these characters are well written, and each one gives the audience a different view of the changes taking place. From one, we see evidence of neglect and emotional trauma. From the other, evidence of vanishing tradition and lost purpose. In a way, both are brought back to life by Roslyn and given a sense of importance by the old-fashioned round-up. However, both are red herrings, and they know it. After all, you cannot bring back what doesn’t exist anymore. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

4 and a half stars 

Review - The Five of Us

May 16, 2013

The Five of Us – Canada, 2004

Had I been reviewing films in 2004, I have no doubt that I would have ranked Ghyslaine Cote’s The Five of Us as one of my favorite films of the year. It has that rare near perfect combination of story, acting, and pacing, and it consistently avoids the clichéd path that films of its kind so often go down. At one point I expected it to dwell on a particularly horrific moment in time, to show in detail the panic and the terror that people experienced and possibly to linger in the forest while police stealthily moved in. Instead, the film fast forwards fifteen years and very subtly begins its somber look at the lasting impact of violence and murder. It is in every way a masterstroke.

The film begins with a spinning aerial view of an area of the countryside so compact with autumn-colored trees that it is impossible to see anything near the ground. The scene is simultaneously beautiful, dizzying, and unsettling, for anything could be happening on the ground below. Our view from the sky soon focuses on a moving car. We hear singing and the jovial sounds of people obviously heading somewhere fun and exciting, and later we see five young girls having the time of their lives. One jumps into a crystal clear lake, and in the first of the film’s excellent cuts, the same girl - now seventeen years old - emerges from the water. It is clear that this has been these girls’ “spot” for much of their young lives, much as secret caves, tree houses, and green parks have been other young people’s spots. These are the places of special memories, of first loves, deep conversations, and private reflections. Of course, they can also be places of break-ups, disappointments, and tears. The wonderful lake house in The Five of Us will eventually be a remainder of both good times and terrible loss.

The first part of the film serves as a reminder of the naïve-like optimism that teenagers often look at the world through. To these five young ladies, anything is possible. Claudie (Brigette Lafleur) dreams of becoming a world famous chef, Sophie (Naomie Yelle) a chart-topping singer, and Isa (Ingrid Falaise) a supermodel. Along with their friends, Manon (Jacinthe Lague) and Anne (Julie Deslauriers), they believe that they will succeed if they are just willing to work hard enough for their dreams. Their conversations will sound familiar to many of us. They talk openly and humorously about their sexual experiences, or lack thereof, they experiment with drugs and alcohol, and they are bound by friendships that seem indissoluble. Watching Isa and Sophie talk with such optimism about their hopes and dreams, I was reminded of my own conversations at that age. I was every bit as sure of my own success as they are of theirs.

Something terrible happens that weekend that changes their lives forever. The beginning of the film hints at it, Manon survives it, and the rest of the film reflects on it – sometimes in the form of deep and meaningful conversations, sometimes in facial expressions that reveal a degree of pain that no one should ever have to deal with, and sometimes in shocking flashbacks. It is the latter choice that gives me mixed feelings, for as shocking and important as what we see in the flashbacks are, I can’t help wondering how much more powerful it would have been to hear them described by an actress as involving as Lague.  

The film is a reminder that the wheels of justice often spin faster than human beings heal. Fifteen years may be enough time for a criminal to rehabilitate himself, yet trauma such as the kind that Manon experiences can last a lifetime. The film wisely does not take sides on this issue. Instead, we watch as the four survivors return to the place where their lives changed so abruptly and reconnect. Their conversations reveal the range of emotions that greet the decision to grant parole to someone convicted of such a violent crime. Understandably, there are calls for revenge, questions about forgiveness, and emotional outbursts brought on by survivor’s guilt. It is all powerful and realistic, and the film’s resolution is as true to life as it could possibly be. The Five of Us is truly an unforgettable experience. (on Blu-ray in Region A)

4 and a half stars

*The Five of Us is in French with English subtitles.

*It was voted the most popular Canadian film at the Montreal World Film Festival in 2004.

Review - It's a Wonderful Life

December 20, 2012

It’s a Wonderful Life – U.S., 1946

During the Decembers of my childhood, viewing Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life was an annual tradition. It was shown on television every December, and it was so beloved that the owner of The Magic Theater would hold free screenings of it. It was his gift to the residents of Nevada City, Grass Valley, and all of the towns nearby. Perhaps because of this oversaturation, I developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the film. What I could remember of it, I loved, but I hated the idea of sitting through it again. (Bear in mind that this was during my “black-and-white movies are boring” phase, which I didn’t really grow out of until after I graduated from high school.) In honor of the holidays this year, I decided it was time to give it another spin, to return to the wonderful small town of Bedford Falls and all of its joyful and optimistic residents. And like a movie character who returns to his childhood home after a long self-imposed exile, I now find it hard to resist saying that old cinematic cliché: I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.

It’s a Wonderful Life is the story of George Bailey, a man whose instinct even as a young child is to fight, not to flee. This is a little ironic given the fact that his lifelong dream is to leave Bedford Falls and lead a life of excitement and purpose. See, George, like many young people, wants to be someone, and he’s convinced that he will never amount to anything in a small town. I suspect that many people these days would echo those sentiments, especially those with visions of being the next Internet-made millionaire. One reason George’s head is filled with visions of adventure and excitement is that a magazine featuring the world’s many exotic places and people has started publication – National Geographic. To people of George’s time, reading this magazine must have been the equivalent of watching the moon landing in 1969 or viewing Curiosity’s most recent discoveries on the surface of Mars. New world’s – be they terrestrial or intergalactic – stir in people the impulse to leave their comfort zone and explore, and so upon his graduation from high school, George Bailey is determined to go to college outside of Bedford Falls and then never look back.

However, life has a way of disrupting carefully-made plans and delaying lifelong dreams, sometimes forever. George’s dreams are put on hold after the death of his father, and they are further postponed after he agrees to take over his father’s business. He does this for the noblest of reasons, but it is clear that his heart is not entirely into it. The explorer in him still has dreams of scaling the world’s tallest mountains, and the architect in him still envisions himself building the kinds of skyscrapers that inspire awe in every person who sees them. His dreams certainly don’t include working at a bank for the rest of his life. I suspect that many viewers will see someone they know in George Bailey. He’s the person who loved singing but never got the chance to become a famous singer, the athlete who didn’t get a chance to play in the major leagues despite having considerable talent, the potential doctor who got a job in a factory because his family needed the money.

Like many of the small towns in films, Bedford Falls is a pretty marvelous place to raise a child in. It is a place where everyone knows each other, where it is normal to marry your high-school sweetheart, and where father always knows best. It is also a place where the men are all gentlemen and the women are generally the type any mother would love for her son to bring home. However, the film wisely does not build Bedford Falls up to be as idyllic as it could have, for doing so would result in George coming across as a bit of an ingrate. No, the world is changing, and Bedford Falls has its share of problems, most of them having to do with economics. There is a clear line between the haves and the have nots here, and therefore, the villain of the film is not the big city with its numerous temptations and vices, but the town’s wealthiest resident, Mr. Potter, who, if he had his way, would evict every struggling resident from their homes instead of extending them a helping hand. This George’s father did, and George has followed in his father’s footsteps. At one point, we become aware of Bailey Park, a section of town build from scratch and financed by loans from George’s bank, loans, it should be pointed out, which would never have been approved by any of the other banks, most, if not all, of which are owned by Mr. Potter. In fact, in one scene, we see what a Potter-financed city would look like, and like the alternate universe that Marty McFly steps into in the second Back to the Future film, it isn’t pretty. George, therefore, is David to Potter’s Goliath, and his bank is more like Bangladesh’s Grameen Bank than any of the major ones that exist today.

There is much to admire in It’s a Wonderful Life, from the beautiful way the film is structured to its smart and realistic screenplay by Francis Goodrich, Albert Hackett, Jo Swerling, and Frank Capra. Director Frank Capra gets impressive performances from his cast, in particular from the always reliable Jimmy Stewart. Part of what remains admirable about Stewart’s performance is that he never forgets two of George’s most memorable traits, his need to pursue his dreams and his spunk. In the film, we see George as a teenager displaying an impressive amount of swagger; we see this from time to time in George after he has grown up, too. Also memorable is Donna Reed as Mary. Mary sees something special in Bedford Falls, and in one crucial moment, she makes it clear that its residents come first. Reed plays the moment just beautifully.

Like many of the best films, It’s a Wonderful Life was a box office disappointment upon its initial release in 1946. It has since found a place in the hearts of both moviegoers and critics, and deservedly so. If there is a flaw in the film, it is its final act, which plays like a collection of flashbacks, the sole purpose of which seems to be to remind viewers of what they have already seen. Therefore, we’re told again about George’s ice rescue, his ear condition, his childhood boss, and so on. It is as if Capra and his co-writers didn’t think the audience would remember all that came before. However, while I suspect that most viewers will not need the reminder, I honestly can’t think of another way for the film to end.

The film reminds us that there has always been a struggle between those whose response to human suffering is cold and unemotional and those whose response is sympathetic and caring. It reminds us of the power and connection of communities and of the lifelong respect that comes with being a help to society. Moreover, it reminds us that sometimes life throws roadblocks at us for a reason, that sometimes we are more valuable in a field other than the one we would have chosen for ourselves. We should all be as rich as George Bailey. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

4 and a half stars

Review - Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)

December 13, 2012

Mutiny on the Bounty – US, 1935

If the scroll that opens Frank Lloyd’s Mutiny on the Bounty is accurate, the events that unfold in the film mark a turning point in how humans treat each other. As the film tells it, before the mutiny depicted in the film, a ship’s crew and officers could be treated inhumanely by their higher-ups without fear of retaliation because a captain had to maintain discipline, and one way of ensuring discipline and loyalty, it was believed, was to be harsh and inhumane. By the end of the film, there has been an awakening, the birth of a new awareness of human equality and brotherhood.

One scene in particular demonstrates these two competing views. In the scene, two small row boats are pulling the Bounty as a result of there being no wind. This requires a small group of about twelve people to row as hard as they can in order to pull the ship, and from the expressions on the men’s faces, it is clear that it is no easy task. One boat is being led by a supporter of Captain Bligh, the ruthless captain of the Bounty, and his motivational methods involve shouting insults at the men rowing the boat and thrashing those he can reach with a whip. The other boat is led by a young midshipman named Roger Byam. Byam chooses to use words of encouragement to stir his men to give their all, and when ordered to use the whip at his disposal, his hand freezes before the whip has a chance to fall on any of its possible targets. The question is: How will compassion defeat brutality?

The film stars Clark Gable as Lieutenant Fletcher Christian, Charles Laughton as Captain Bligh, and Franchot Tone as Roger Byam. The three give powerful performances, and they were each nominated for Best Actor for their work, marking the first time three people were nominated for Best Actor for the same film. It may also be why neither of them won. Christian and Laughton are polar opposites, one favoring the use of heavy-handed tactics with the crew and the other opposing them. Byam stands in the middle, loyal to the chain of command, yet sympathetic to the crew.

The film does an excellent job of contrasting Christian and Bligh, and they are both extremely complicated characters. The film does not make the case that Christian’s actions are entirely correct. As Byam points out, there is nothing particularly noble about setting men adrift when death is almost a near certainty, and as a result, we can understand his sentiments when he tells Christian that they can never be friends again. In addition, Christian is well aware of the impact his actions will have on his family and his reputation. As decent as his intentions were, he will forever be known as a mutineer, a traitor to the crown he has been so loyal to over the years. As for Bligh, our impression of him is challenged by his actions immediately following the mutiny, and it is impossible not to be impressed by his leadership. His obsessive, possible fatalistic actions later in the film can be compared to those of Captain Ahab, for it seems clear that revenge is more important to him than the safety and security of those serving with him.

Mutiny on the Bounty is notable for several other reasons. All too often in films, English speakers arrive in new worlds and set about teaching English to the inhabitants of those areas. In some movies, all one has to do is listen to your heart in order to magically acquire the English language. Here, though, it is the English speakers that learn the new language, and like most people, they struggle with its many complexities. It goes without saying that a movie that places single men on an island paradise will have an element of romance to it, and yet the romances that do take place in the film seem entirely authentic. In fact, any actor wanting to know how to realistically portray love at first sight should study Gable’s performance. His expression when he first sees Maimiti (Mamo Clark), the woman who becomes the love of his life, is absolutely perfect. To her credit, Clark, here making her film debut, matches Gable’s look convincingly.

The film errs slightly when it goes for levity and laughs at the crew’s expense. For example, instead of realistically dealing with food shortages and giving his opinion on food rations, the ship’s cook makes goofy expressions and acts like an amateur. On the ship, there is a running gag about the best direction in which to hurl pails of food waste. One guess just who the waste lands on. On the island, he finds himself being courted by a single woman with at least five children. His response is to run away in comic fashion accompanied by music that would better fit a slapstick comedy than a naval drama. Other members of the crew have equally silly moments involving viewing beautiful women and discussing food. While these moments are unnecessary, thankfully they are sparse enough so as not to distract viewers from the film’s more dramatic storyline.

Mutiny on the Bounty is one of those rare films that works pretty much from start to finish. It is filled with memorable moments and unforgettable characters, and it treats them with respect and dignity. Bligh could easily have just been portrayed as being sadistic, yet here we see him at both his worst and his best, and by the end of the film, we realize that sometimes people with great skills do terrible things for what they think are the right reasons, and sometimes good people do the wrong thing for the right reasons. Only history can ultimately tell us who was correct.

However, here history can be deceiving, for the end of the film is not really the end for these characters, and from what I read on Wikipedia, the true events of the 1787 mutiny were not quite as clear-cut or as rosy as they are depicted in the film. However, a film is not history. It is first and foremost a story. This one just happens to be about real people in a variation of a real situation. It is no less powerful just because it plays loosely with the facts. Mutiny on the Bounty remains a powerful, complex, and captivating film. It is one of the finest of its genre. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

4 and a half stars

*Mutiny on the Bounty was awarded the Oscar for Best Picture of the Year at the eighth Academy Awards. It was its only award.

Review - Steamboat Bill, Jr.

December 6, 2012

Steamboat Bill, Jr. – US, 1928

There’s a scene early on in Steamboat Bill, Jr. that would play very differently if it were filmed today. In it, a young man named William Canfield Jr., played by Buster Keaton, tries to make a baby stop crying by prancing around in what may be considered a stereotypically “feminine” way. Unbeknownst to him, his father, an overly macho captain of a riverboat called Stonewall Jackson, is watching his actions and reacting in horror. He then tells his friend not to say what they are likely both thinking. It is a remark that an audience in 1928 would have understood immediately and found quite funny. Filmed in color, the scene, like reruns of Three’s Company, which no longer gets the laughs they used to, would run up against present-day sensitivities.

Here, though, the gag works, and it sets up a series of other equally effective gags, each involving the father trying to show the son how a real man looks and behaves. These bits involve changing the younger Canfield’s wardrobe, getting rid of his short, European-looking mustache, and smashing his precious ukulele, which apparently is not manly enough for a riverboat worker. Each bit is extremely funny, and Keaton’s reactions and facial expressions while trying on hat after hat are priceless. And what happens to the hat is pure genius.

The film’s plot revolves around a dispute between Canfield’s father, William “Steamboat Bill” Canfield (Ernest Torrence) and his rival J.J. King (Tom McGuire). In the beginning of the film, we see King’s impressive new steamship, which has been arrogantly named King. King is one of those early American businessmen with monopolistic goals. He wants to control transportation, banking, and the hospitality industry, and the town’s residents couldn’t be more thrilled. King could easily have been portrayed as a maniacal fellow trying to squash his competitors, but the film wisely avoids this. Instead, he, as well as the elder Canfield, bears a slight resemblance to the elder Capulets and Montagues from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. A wealthy man who just happens to have a long-standing hatred for Bill Canfield, Sr, King also has a daughter named Kitty (Marion Bryon), and it soon becomes clear that she and Canfield Jr. not only know each other but are also deeply in love. Of course, it goes without saying that their fathers are opposed to them being together.

The film is well-directed by Charles F. Reisner, who was himself a former vaudeville performer. He seems to have a real understanding of comedy and comic timing, and he knows just where to put the camera to get the best view of Keaton’s classic facial expressions. Marion Bryon, here making here screen debut, is also very impressive in the film. She plays up Kitty’s sweetness, as well as her playfulness, and some of her best moments capture her joy at seeing Keaton’s exploits, many of which come at her father’s expense. As for Ernest Torrence, he shows both comic and dramatic skills, and it is easy to see why he was a success in both genres.    

The film contains plenty of classic Buster Keaton gags, from an early bit involving a white carnation to a later one involving a loaf of bread made from something other than flour. Also, watch out for a hilarious pantomime during a famous steamboat song and a particularly brilliant bit involving Keaton’s attempts to sneak aboard King’s ship. As joyous as these bits are, however, they pale in comparison to what happens toward the end of the film during a long stretch involving a cyclone and its effects on the town. In these moments, we see Keaton battling the elements, collapsing buildings, and curiously placed stage props. It simply has to be seen to be believed. 

Steamboat Bill, Jr. is similar to other Keaton films in that it first builds Keaton’s character up to be a bit of a buffoon only to later show him possessing amazing skills when it truly counts. In 1927’s College, it was athletics that he suddenly developed skills in; here, it’s sailing. In both films, the message seems to be that we should never discount the amazing powers of love, for they can enable us to do some pretty impressive things. The sentiment may seem a bit cliché in the real world, but it has always worked on the silver screen, and it works magnificently here. Steamboat Bill, Jr. remains hilarious and heartfelt. It is truly a classic of cinematic comedy. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

4 and a half stars

Review - A Star is Born

July 5, 2012

 A Star is Born – US, 1954

If Judy Garland had not already been a star, I have no doubt that her rendition of “The Man That Got Away” would have made her one instantly. The number serves two primary purposes. First, it enables her character, Esther Blodgett, to inadvertently display the full range of her talent to Norman Maine (James Mason), a Hollywood heavyweight with a weakness for women and alcohol. Second, by looking directly at the camera and showing off her impressive vocals, Garland is sending an equally powerful message to the audience: I’m still here, and I’ve still got it. It is a potent message from a woman whom Hollywood practically gave up on when she was just twenty-eight years old. In a way then, Norman Maine’s crazy impulse to help get Esther Blodgett established in Hollywood becomes the audience’s, for the faster he makes it happen, the sooner viewers get to be utterly amazed by Garland’s singing again, and rest assured, amazed they will be.

“The Man That Got Away” is the second musical number in George Cukor’s delightful version of A Star is Born, and both Cukor and screenwriter Moss Hart deserve a great deal of praise for being able to turn William Wellman’s 1937 drama into a fantastic musical while never losing sight of the script’s more serious elements. The film is about a young woman who rises to fame with the help of a veteran A-list actor named Norman Maine. Maine wisely never verbalizes exactly why he is as dedicated to Blodgett’s career as he is, and it is clear that his initial interest in her, indeed his very reason for seeking her out in the first place, is hardly what you would consider noble. Her interpretation of “The Man That Got Away” changes that. Later, Norman describes what he sees in Esther as “that little something extra.” The only part of the expression worth quibbling with is the word “little.”

In a very realistic twist, Esther’s career does not take off immediately. First, Norman disappears for several weeks after being whisked away to a film location in the middle of nowhere while he is sleeping off a night a prolonged drinking. Apparently, it is not the first time this has happened, and nor will it be the last. To make matters worse, Norman doesn’t know Esther’s full name and can’t remember her address. Without him to help her, Esther is once again forced to take the kind of job that many actors and actresses take while they are waiting to be discovered, one in the service industry. Esther becomes a waitress at a restaurant that looks a lot like the Mel’s Drive-Ins of yesteryear, complete with outdoor delivery. Eventually Esther and Norman are reunited, and with Norman’s help, Esther finally succeeds in getting her foot in the door. The irony is that as her career starts to grow, Norman’s begins to fade.

A Star is Born perfectly captures the times in which it takes place. We see the way the studio system worked, the importance that personal connections had for actors and actresses, and the way some actors were given new names in an effort to make them more appealing to a wider audience. We also see the grandness of 1950’s musicals, replete with colorful sets, fancy costumes, and large crowds of talented dancers whose feet move like lightening. The numbers often didn’t move the plot along, but they sure got the audiences hearts racing. The movie also honestly depicts the media’s obsession with everything Hollywood, from what actresses are wearing to the latest sensational bit of celebrity gossip, as well as Hollywood executives’ aversion to risk and controversy, especially when it comes to the behavior of studio actors and the studio’s bottom line.

The film is also filled with wonderful, memorable moments, one of the best of which involves three make-over artists trying to decide how best to “help” Esther make an impression during her screen test. We hear references to the “Crawford mouth” and the “Dietrich eyebrow,” as if having the physical features of established stars is what impresses Hollywood executives. In another great moment, Norman introduces the head of the studio to Esther in a rather indirect way and gently nudges him to give her a starring role. And then there are the priceless scenes between Garland and Mason, one of the sweetest of which involves Esther re-enacting a dance number for Norman at their home. The excitement of the characters is simply intoxicating, and the scene makes it clear just how deeply the two of them are in love. Also, watch for an amazing scene involving an orchestra, a well-placed microphone, and a playback device. It is an extremely charming moment.

If there is a part of the film that doesn’t work for me, it is the long musical number that concludes the first half of the film. In the scene, we see the performance that makes Esther a star, and while it is indeed an impressive musical number, nothing in the scene made me think that the film Esther was in was particularly memorable or interesting. In fact, I can’t really explain what that film was about or why the audience would give it a 97% approval rating after a preview screening. To me, a role that makes someone a star should be more than just a showcase of someone’s voice and fancy footwork. It should also allow the audience to see the dramatic or comic talents that the character possesses and the reason the film appeals to the audience. Also, early on, the film establishes its musical numbers as being performances set to live orchestral accompaniment, only for it later to break this pattern in a heartfelt scene in which Norman asks Esther to sing to him on their wedding night. The two of them are in a small hotel room in the middle of nowhere, and so when Esther begins singing, she does so a cappella. This is as it should be. Just where the orchestra is that suddenly begins accompanying her is a mystery. However, these are minor complaints, and they do not hurt the film in any major way.

A Star is Born is one of those rare films that is not only comic and entertaining but also tragic and thought-provoking. At one point, Norman tries to end his association with Esther, telling her that it is time for her to make it on her own. When she disagrees, he tells her, “I destroy everything I touch.” There is some truth to that statement, yet truths such as these are often pushed aside by sentimental romantic characters that often cling to the noble belief that love can solve any problem. Esther is ultimately one such romantic.

I have seen a lot of musicals over the years, but few have resonated as much as A Star is Born. In the film, Garland is simply amazing to behold. Perhaps it is what Time proclaimed it to be: “Just about the greatest one-woman show in modern film history.” However, the rest of the film’s ensemble makes it more than just a one-woman show. James Mason gives a truly heartfelt performance as a man who wants to be the best he can be but is his own worst enemy, and Charles Bickford gives a memorable performance as Oliver Niles, the head of the studio that employs Norman. One of the saddest scenes I have seen in a long time is a scene in which Oliver offers Norman a part in a movie. It is a futile effort from the start because of Norman’s unreasonably high sense of pride. Also memorable is Jack Carson as Matt Libby. Libby has the thankless job of taking care of Norman and making sure he is where he is supposed to be. Carson has a very important scene towards the end of the film that he nails perfectly. All of these performers are in the capable hands of an excellent director, George Cukor, who excelled at getting top-notch performances out of his casts. Together, they make A Star is Born one of the all-time great movie musicals. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

*4 and a half stars

*A Star is Born was nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Original Song for “The Man That Got Away.” Like many great films, it went home empty-handed.

Review – Talking Silents 10: Chushingura: The Truth/Raiden

April 21, 2011

Chushingura: The Truth – Japan, 1928
Raiden – Japan, 1928

Legend has it that for his fiftieth birthday, Shozo Mikino set out to create a masterpiece – no small feat. I suppose everyone who makes films or writes stories has a similar ambition, yet I doubt he talks about it out loud. I can’t imagine Mark Twain sitting with a group of his friends and announcing to them that he going to create the great American novel or George Lucas saying he was going to create a film that would change the way films are made forever (I was going to say Orson Welles but on second thought…), so for Mikino to have been vocal about his wish is something quite unusual. For his endeavor, he chose a tale that has fascinated people in Japan for decades, the events of 1701 that have come to be known as “Chushingura” or “The Treasury of Loyal Retainers.” The event had previously been made into a short film in 1907. In fact, IMDB lists seven films with the title Chushingura from 1907 to 1926. I suppose it could be said that there was no need for a new adaptation of the event in 1928.

I suspect though that Mikino believed there was something about the story that had yet to be told, hence the title of his film – Chushingura: The Truth. It implies that something about this event had been hidden from the public, that there were secrets that still needed to be told. Granted, he could have just liked how the title sounded or looked on the marquee, but in this, I have to give Mikino the benefit of the doubt. After all, he is the father of Japanese cinema, and if he indeed had his sights set on creating a film that would stand the test of time, I’d say he accomplished his goal.

What follows are the generally accepted facts about the events depicted in the film: Lord Asano Takumi-no-Kami Naganori was charged with receiving a group of envoys from the Imperial Court in Kyoto. He was young and slightly inexperienced, so Lord Kira Kozuke-no suke Yoshinako was given the task of instructing Lord Asano in the customs of the ceremony. On the day of the reception, something went terrible wrong, and Lord Asano attempted to kill Lord Kira. For this, Lord Asano was order to commit seppuku. However, in violation of existing law, Lord Kira was not punished. The ruling Shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi eventually confiscated Lord Asano’s land and dismissed the samurai that had served him so faithfully, effectively making them all ronin. Two years later, Oishi Kuranosuke Yoshi led a group of samurai loyal to Lord Asano in an attack on Kira’s compound. Their aim was to capture and kill him.

What is less clear is what actually happened between Lord Asano and Lord Kira. Moreover, why did it take two years for Lord Asano’s samurai to exact their revenge? In Chushingura: The Truth, the answers are revealed, and they are fascinating. Writers Itaro Yahagami and Shotaro Saijo have created a version of these events that is not only believable but also compelling. We witness Lord Asano trying to control his rage and finding it increasingly difficult to do so with each of Lord Kira’s successive insults. We also see the reason for Lord Kira’s animosity towards Lord Asano. Later in the film, we watch as Oishi has to bide his time, and we marvel at the strategy he devises to help him allay the Shogunate’s suspicions. At the same time, the film allows us to see the personal toll that getting revenge takes on Oishi, and I suspect that viewers will both admire and empathize with him as a result.

Unfortunately, the film is incomplete, for some of the film’s final act was lost in a fire. Some of the scenes towards the end of the film are actually from Masahiro Mikino’s film Kanja, which had many of the same actors in it as Chushingura: The Truth. The effect of this is that the film’s climatic battle seems rushed. In addition, the film’s final scene doesn’t end the story. It simply moves its characters to a new location. It could be that there was an alternative ending at one point that is now lost. However, the awkwardness of the film’s closing moments does nothing to take away from the sheer brilliance of all that has preceded it. Chushingura: The Truth seems very much the masterpiece its director intended it to be

The second film on the tenth volume of the Talking Silents series is Shozo Mikino’s final short comedy, Raiden. The film is about a sumo wrestler named Raiden who is one victory away from achieving the status of yokozuna. The only problem is that his family, in particular, his aging mother, doesn’t want him to receive that title, arguing that if he does, he will only accrue the resentment of society. She pleads with him to throw the match, and he reluctantly agrees. It turns out to be much easier said than done, for his opponent is Dr. Yabui Chikuan, who has never wrestled a match in his life and is practically all skin and bones.

Raiden is played by Toichiro Negishi, who looks like he could actually be a sumo wrestler. Dr. Chikuan is played by Shozo Mikino’s son, Masahiro Makino, and he is very funny in the role. Having no experience as a sumo wrestler, Dr. Chikuan tries to copy all of Raiden’s actions. He even tries to prevent Raiden from stepping out of bounds, not realizing that it’s too his advantage not to. The younger Makino had been an actor in his father’s films before he became a director, and from what we see here, he was quite skilled at it. Raiden is a rather funny film with no really serious themes. It simply does what good films should do. It leaves you wanting more. I would expect nothing less from the father of Japanese cinema. (on DVD)

Chushingura: The Truth – 4 and a half stars
Raiden – 3 and a half stars

Review – Infernal Affairs

March 2, 2011

Infernal Affairs – Hong Kong, 2002

If you needed further proof of the insanity of the Oscars, look no further than the nominees for Best Foreign Film in 2004 – The Barbarian Invasions (Canada), Evil (Sweden), The Twilight Samurai (Japan), Twin Sister (the Netherlands), and Zelery (the Czech Republic). In mentioning these films, I am not making a comment about the quality of the films nominated, for in truth, I have only seen two of the films listed above. However, I would like to point out one glaring omission, glaring simply because the remake of it was thought of so highly by the Academy that it was declared the best film of 2006. In fact, looking at the voting record of the Academy as a whole, the omission is not surprising. The Academy tends to favor foreign films that are slightly light-hearted or not very controversial over fast-paced films or ones with much darker undertones. Consider these decisions: Mediterraneo over Raise the Red Lantern in 1992, Belle Epoque over Farewell My Concubine in 1994, Nowhere in Africa over Hero in 2003, The Sea Inside over Downfall in 2005, and Tsotsi over Paradise Now in 2006. And who can forget that a recent film that has come to be regarded by many as one of the best films of all time was not even nominated for Best Foreign Film, that being 2002’s City of God? Therefore, given its track record, I’m not surprised that the Academy passed over the film Hong Kong submitted for the 2004 Academy Awards. A foreign film like Andrew Lau and Alan Mak’s Infernal Affairs was probably just not their cup of tea. Their loss.

Infernal Affairs is the story of two young men, each assigned to become a mole. As a young man, Kin Ming Lau (Andy Lau) is placed in the Hong Kong Police Department by Sam Hon, the head of a Hong Kong Triad. His job is to rise in the department and one day help Sam’s business remain unobstructed. The other young man, Chen Wing Yan (Tony Leung), is recruited during his initial police training for a long undercover assignment. It is supposed to be three years. However, towards the beginning of the film, we learn that it’s already been six. In order to maintain his cover, his assignment is known by only two men, one of whom has recently passed on. Yan’s ultimate goal is to integrate himself into Sam’s gang and help bring him down.

All of the details above are explained extremely quickly at the start of the film. This is a wise approach, for it leaves the majority of the film’s running time for the intense cat-and-mouse game that follows. In the first major scene, we see one mole sending information to his boss at the Hong Kong Police Department while the mole in the police department tries his hardest to warn Sam of the police’s every move. It’s a very tense scene, and by the end of it, each of the moles has become aware of the other’s existence. In a nice touch, the mole in the police department is the one eventually assigned to find out who the leak is.

There are two female characters that deserve mentioning. Neither of the characters is given much screen time, but their presence is important nonetheless. The first is Lau’s girlfriend, Mary (Sammi Cheng). She decides to write a novel about a character with twenty-eight personalities who becomes so confused about his identity that he cannot remember which personality is really his. In essence, he does not know whether he is a good man or a villain. It’s clear early on that she’s basing this character on Lau, and her confusion about the character’s true nature tells us much about her conflicted feeling towards Lau. And it’s no wonder. In one scene, Lau walks around the apartment they share together talking to Sam on the phone and telling him things that just don’t sound very innocuous, all within earshot of the woman we assume he wants to keep in the dark about where his true loyalties lie. Just what is she supposed to think? The second character is Dr. Lee Sum Yee (Kelly Chan), Yan’s court-appointed psychiatrist. She plays cards while Yan gets some much needed sleep during their rather unsuccessful counseling sessions. After one session, Yan flirts with her rather politely, and she makes no attempt to quote ethical codes that prohibit relationships between doctors and patients. Years later, they run into each other, and Lee makes a very revealing mistake during their brief conversation.

Infernal Affairs is perfectly paced and extremely well directed. Lau and Leung give impressive performances, and their scenes together cackle with energy and raw emotion. It’s a credit to Lau that his character never becomes truly hated. In fact, I suspect many people will have a degree of pity for him. Matching these two performances is the work of Eric Trang, who plays Sam, and Anthony Wong, who plays Yan’s boss, Supervisor Wong, the only person who knows that Yan is really a cop.

Infernal Affairs is largely credited with reenergizing the film industry in Hong Kong, an industry that one of its box office heavyweights once described as producing way too may films that were subpar. By 2002, some of its most famous directors, such as John Woo, had left to make films in the United States, and superstars Jackie Chan and Jet Li had already been starring in American film for several years. However, in Hong Kong in 2002, Infernal Affairs was more popular than both Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Spider-Man. It eventually spawned two successful sequels in addition to the aforementioned American remake, Martin Scorsese’s The Departed. In addition, in 2002 only four of the most successful films in Hong Kong were actually from Hong Kong; the following year, the number had risen to six. Unfortunately, the upwards trend has not continued, and only two of the most popular films in 2010 were local productions. It’s highly unlikely that Infernal Affairs was the sole reason for the rejuvenation of Hong Kong cinema. In fact, on CNN’s Talk Asia, Andrew Lau attributed his role in the turn around to luck. However, it must be said that there is something very special about Infernal Affairs, and unlike some other recent influential films, time has thus far not diminished it a bit. It is a truly towering achievement that I predict will continue to stand the test of time. (on DVD and Blu-ray)

4 and a half stars

*Infernal Affairs is in Cantonese and Mandarin with English subtitles.

Review – Tropical Fish

January 10, 2011

Tropical Fish – Taiwan, 1995

There’s a moment in Tropical Fish when a female teacher tells her students that if they fail an upcoming exam, their lives will be ruined forever. It’s a message that seems a bit harsh but is no less real. The test she is referring to is the national exams which determine what senior high school students will attend. Some of these schools have reputations for excellence, and students who attend them are thought to be smarter and more hardworking. Other schools have the stigma of being where poor-performing students go, and they do not look good on a resume. This hardly seems fair, and many people in Taiwan, as well as a few characters in the film itself, have been arguing that the testing system needs to be changed for some time. Good luck.

The teacher is just one of the interesting, colorful characters we meet in Chen Yu-Hsun’s excellent 1995 film Tropical Fish. In the same scene, she asks her students how many of them think they’re going to fail the upcoming national exam. When most of her students raise their hands, she lashes out at them verbally, proclaiming them cowards. Then she tells them a story about a student who didn’t give up, who studied hard, overcame adversity, and passed the test. The message being that if he could do it, they can do it too. She then asks how many of them think they’ll fail now. Guess how many of them raise their hands a second time? You guessed it – none. The students are probably too afraid, which is actually understandable, as this is a teacher in the habit of slamming a long measuring stick on a student’s hands when he gives the wrong answer. I guess she believes that pain and fear are powerful motivators.

The central character in Tropical Fish is Liu Zhi-qiang, a young dreamer who would rather spend his free time hanging out with friends and playing video games. When he’s not doing these things, he’s writing romantic letters to a classmate that he has developed a crush on and imagining stories involving magical hearing aids and vast oceans of tropical fish. He is not a very good student, and this causes great embarrassment for his father. In one particularly telling scene, we see him trying to inspire his son by yelling at him. His mother uses a different tact – preparing food for him that is said to be good for your memory. Later at a parent-teacher conference, Zhi-qiang’s father nervously peaks at the papers of other students to see how his child’s score compares to theirs. What we do not see them do is help their child study.

The first part of the film takes place in Taizhung, an area of Taiwan in which there were a lot of kidnappings during the 1990’s. And one such kidnapping is at the heart of Tropical Fish. A seven-year-old boy that Zhi-qiang plays video games with is kidnapped, and Zhi-qiang is convinced that the two creepy men he saw buying food for him the previous day are the culprits. Inspired by his very active imagination and video games in which he gets to play the hero, he decides to try to rescue the boy himself. As a result of his efforts, he is taken hostage as well. The second half of the film takes place in Dongshi, an area in southern Taiwan that floods frequently. There, Ah-Ching, one of the kidnappers (the other has died), struggles with the question of what to do with the two boys now that everything has gone wrong. A kind man who just happened to get involved with the wrong person, he informs his family of the situation and together they try to decide what to do. They do not appear to be dangerous, yet in truth, they could use some money. Their home is flooded, and they are desperate to come up with enough money to send the youngest sibling to school. From news reports, they learn that Zhi-qiang is supposed to take his exam within two weeks, and strangely that fact changes everything. Time is of the essence, and Zhi-qiang simply must be returned quickly. The million dollar question, of course, is how.

Tropical Fish is one of those rare films that does everything right. Extremely funny and filled with memorable and realistic characters, the film will likely make viewers reflect upon social and political issues. Viewers may at first find it odd that a father talks so much about his son taking a test when his very survival is in question, yet upon reflection, this act seems perfectly natural, even touching. The events in the film also serve as an education for Zhi-qiang, as a way of teaching him what is truly important in life. Towards the end of the film, Zhi-qiang reads a letter from a young woman named Ah-Juan which is both heartbreaking and inspirational. I watched the scene twice, and each time it got to me. Watch Zhi-qiang’s expression in the scene. It’s clear that he’s gotten the message.

The cast of Tropical Fish is particularly strong. Lin Chen-Sheng gives a great performance as Liu Zhi-qiang. The rest of the cast, including Wen Ying, Lien Pi-Tong, Hsiao Tsao Ku, and Shi Ching Luen, is excellent as well. Mrs. Pi is especially funny as an older woman whose has lost touch with reality. In other hands, such a portrayal might seem insensitive. Here, it’s handled with sensitivity and respect, allowing the audience to laugh at humorous moments. Tropical Fish was director Chen Yu-Hsun’s debut film after working on television for some time. He has made only two other films since, the most recent one being 2010’s Juliets. Because of how much his first film impressed me, I plan to find time to see them as well. Tropical Fish may be hard for people to find, but it’s well worth the effort it takes to see it. Simply put, films like this don’t come around very often. (on DVD in Region 3)

4 and a half stars

*Tropical Fish is in Mandarin and Min Nan with English subtitles.

Review – Dog Day Afternoon

October 13, 2010

Dog Day Afternoon – U.S., 1975

Sidney Lumet’s masterful film Dog Day Afternoon begins with a series of shots of ordinary people doing what they normally do, and it is in these opening moments that one of the film’s themes is firmly established. What we are about to see occurs in a world divided into dualities. There’s the rich and the poor; the young and the old; those who days consists of eight-hours of sweat and toil and those whose hours are spent joyfully riding the waves. And then there are the neighborhoods themselves – some are poorly-lit and littered with scraps of discarded newspapers; others are so clean that the rays of the afternoon sun create an almost immaculate glow around them. Later, additional contrasts are presented to us, and as the film progresses, it becomes clear that the events that we are witnessing are in a way an irrational reaction to the inequality and the injustice that those contrasts in society have created. This does not excuse the actions of the film’s main characters, yet it does put them into a somewhat sympathetic light. Right reasons – wrong response.

Dog Day Afternoon is the true story of a bank robbery gone wrong. In the film’s opening scene, three men walk into a bank just before closing time with the intent of walking out ten minutes later with a bag full of cash. It’s a disaster from the very beginning. Sonny Wortzik (an amazing performance by Al Pacino), the ringleader of the group, has a hard time getting his shotgun out of a box; another member of the group gets cold feet just seconds after the robbery begins and asks to leave. Only the third one, Sal (Jon Cazale), is composed – too composed, in fact. From the very beginning, we sense that this is the dangerous one, the one most capable of making a bad situation much worse. And things indeed get worse. Most of the bank’s money has already been picked up, the female bank tellers are unwilling to go into the vault when asked to, and then there’s the unexpected call from a police detective (Charles Durning) across the street telling him that the bank is already surrounded. None of this bodes particularly well for Sonny and Sal, and yet the afternoon is just getting started.

In addition to its perfect pace and the incredible performances of the entire cast, one of the things that makes Dog Day Afternoon so intriguing is the way it leaks information about Sonny and Sal slowly. At first, they seem like everyday thieves, but as the film progresses that picture slowly begins to erode. We learn that they both fought in Vietnam, that Sal has been in jail and doesn’t want to go back, that Sonny has a wife and two kids, and, perhaps most alarming of all, that Sal and Sonny have a pact – It’s success or death. Much more is revealed which I won’t spoil. I will say though that with each revelation, the tragedy of what is unfolding in front of us grows exponentially.

Dog Day Afternoon came out in 1975, eighteen years after A Face in the Crowd, Elia Kazan’s film about Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, a man who alone succumbs to the corruptive nature of money and suffers extreme delusions of grandeur. What’s interesting about what we see in Dog Day Afternoon is that everyday people, ecstatic at getting the opportunity to be on TV, gladly take part in Sonny’s delusions. A pizza delivery man declares himself a star simply because he delivers pizza to Sonny and the employees of the bank; the senior bank teller cheerfully answers questions from a reporter while still being held hostage. When she returns inside the bank, she can’t resists excitedly telling her co-workers that she was on TV. News anchors even calls the bank and conduct live interviews with Sonny, a man that they know is armed and dangerous. As for Sonny himself, he begins to take on the persona of a lively and comic “man of the people,” as if he is somehow fighting for the underdogs of the world. The crowd outside, as well as the ladies on the inside, does his no favors by responding and encouraging Sonny’s distorted image of himself, for it lulls him into a false sense of security, allowing him to think that everyone but the authorities is behind him. This is simply not the case.

One of the truly remarkable things about Dog Day Afternoon is how little time has affected it. Sure, it looks like it is taking place in the 1970’s, but it’s easy to see a situation like this occurring in New York in the 1980’s or Los Angeles in the 1990’s. In addition, the crowd’s inability to turn away from the train wreck they are witnessing and the obsession with fame that some of the characters in the film have are eerily similar to the actions of some people during the recent tragedy in the Philippines and of many of the people who yearn to be on reality TV shows, reveal family secrets on daytime talk shows, or put videos of themselves on YouTube. Perhaps Dog Day Afternoon captured the beginning of this fixation.

The end of Dog Day Afternoon reminded me a bit of the final scene in Michael Curtiz’s 1938 film Angels with Dirty Faces starring the great James Cagney. In that film, the audience must decide for themselves whether James Cagney’s character, Rocky Sullivan, is pretending to be afraid or not, and there’s no easy answer. Nor is there an easy explanation for the tears that flow at the end of Dog Day Afternoon. Who are they for? What do they imply? I suppose the answer to that will ultimately determine how you view Sonny, yet I don’t think there will ever be a consensus of opinion. Sonny is just too complicated a character for that to be possible. (on DVD)

4 and a half stars