Nothing is Written: A Film Blog

Serpico

2012-01-25T15:54:00.008-05:00

Sidney Lumet's best work (12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon) addresses topical issues sans the obnoxious preachments that mar so many "significant" films. Serpico (1973) is a case in point: a powerful depiction of police corruption, it sublimates any grandstanding to a compelling story.

Newly-minted New York cop Frank Serpico (Al Pacino) finds life on the force rough. From his unkempt whiskers to his love of ballet, Serpico is a decidedly unconventional cop - even more so when he's shocked that his colleagues extort and skim money from criminals. At first Serpico turns a blind eye, seeking reassignment to a clean section, but finds every precinct honeycombed with corruption. With the help of a Mayor's aide (Tony Roberts) and an honest cop (Edward Grover) Serpico reports his findings, but his image-minded superiors are reluctant to pursue it. Serpico's peers soon discover his game, and arrange a nasty surprise for him.

Serpico is an extremely angry film, calling out the NYPD's institutional corrutpion. One of Frank's first experiences is seeing his partner beat a rape suspect to a bloody pulp, and it goes downhill from there. Every department has its own con going, reasoning their larceny "won't hurt anyone." The higher-ups, whether through incompetence, complicity or simple face-saving, drag their feet in addressing the issue. Frank's colleagues openly threaten him and take credit for his arrests, even trying to frame him for sodomy. The most pointed scene has several officers getting chummy with a hustler (and cop killer) Frank just arrested.

"Message films" are hard to pull off; it's tricky to make a point without being preachy or sacrificing entertainment value. Lumet keeps the anger at a low boil, sparing the audience any on-the-nose homilies. There are no easy villains to tear down: all the cops are complicit, the rackets a self-perpetuating, universally accepted part of police life. We want Frank to triumph, but it hardly seems worth the effort. Even if Serpico succeeds, his career is ruined and the big fish will likely escape justice.

Lumet's direction is typically strong, mixing some directoral flair (the chaotic opening especially) with docudrama grittiness. Lumet uses Serpico's ever-growing facial hair and pet dog as clever ellipses for gaps in the story, and screenwriter Howard Wexman's dialogue, character interactions and plot development ring absolutely true. The fine music comes from Mikis Theodarkis, who'd previously scored the similarly subversive Z.

Al Pacino hit paydirt with The Godfather a year before, and he's no less impressive here. His Frank Serpico is a truly unique creation, a rough-hewn cop who mixes street smarts with intellectual pursuits. Despite his hippie appearance he's the department's straightest arrow, and possibly the only one interested in justice. Pacino nails his cultivated eccentricities, fierce individuality and righteous anger with remarkable panache.

Barbara Eda-Young and Cornelia Sharpe are effective as the women in Serpico's life. Tony Roberts (The Taking of Pelham 1,2,3) is excellent as Serpico's friend in a high place, perhaps too eager to help. Jack Kehoe (The Untouchables), Judd Hirsch (TV's Taxi) and M. Emmett Walsh (Blade Runner), among others, play crooked cops; John Randolph and Biff McGuire are lugubrious bureaucrats; F. Murray Abraham (Amadeus) helps set Serpico up.

Serpico proves yet again the '70s (almost) had the monopoly on great crime films. Mixing perfect dramaturgy with measured polemics, it's remarkably effective.

Oscar Time is Here

2012-01-24T18:52:00.003-05:00

It's that time of year again...

Actor in a Leading Role
Demián Bichir in "A Better Life"
George Clooney in "The Descendants"
Jean Dujardin in "The Artist"
Gary Oldman in "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy"
Brad Pitt in "Moneyball"

Actor in a Supporting Role
Kenneth Branagh in "My Week with Marilyn"
Jonah Hill in "Moneyball"
Nick Nolte in "Warrior"
Christopher Plummer in "Beginners"
Max von Sydow in "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close"

Actress in a Leading Role
Glenn Close in "Albert Nobbs"
Viola Davis in "The Help"
Rooney Mara in "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"
Meryl Streep in "The Iron Lady"
Michelle Williams in "My Week with Marilyn"

Actress in a Supporting Role
Bérénice Bejo in "The Artist"
Jessica Chastain in "The Help"
Melissa McCarthy in "Bridesmaids"
Janet McTeer in "Albert Nobbs"
Octavia Spencer in "The Help"

Animated Feature Film
"A Cat in Paris" Alain Gagnol and Jean-Loup Felicioli
"Chico & Rita" Fernando Trueba and Javier Mariscal
"Kung Fu Panda 2" Jennifer Yuh Nelson
"Puss in Boots" Chris Miller
"Rango" Gore Verbinski

Art Direction
"The Artist"
Production Design: Laurence Bennett; Set Decoration: Robert Gould
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2"
Production Design: Stuart Craig; Set Decoration: Stephenie McMillan
"Hugo"
Production Design: Dante Ferretti; Set Decoration: Francesca Lo Schiavo
"Midnight in Paris"
Production Design: Anne Seibel; Set Decoration: Hélène Dubreuil
"War Horse"
Production Design: Rick Carter; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales

Cinematography
"The Artist" Guillaume Schiffman
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" Jeff Cronenweth
"Hugo" Robert Richardson
"The Tree of Life" Emmanuel Lubezki
"War Horse" Janusz Kaminski

Costume Design
"Anonymous" Lisy Christl
"The Artist" Mark Bridges
"Hugo" Sandy Powell
"Jane Eyre" Michael O'Connor
"W.E." Arianne Phillips

Directing
"The Artist" Michel Hazanavicius
"The Descendants" Alexander Payne
"Hugo" Martin Scorsese
"Midnight in Paris" Woody Allen
"The Tree of Life" Terrence Malick

Documentary (Feature)
"Hell and Back Again"
Danfung Dennis and Mike Lerner
"If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front"
Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman
"Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory"
Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky
"Pina"
Wim Wenders and Gian-Piero Ringel
"Undefeated"
TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas
Documentary (Short Subject)
"The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement"
Robin Fryday and Gail Dolgin
"God Is the Bigger Elvis"
Rebecca Cammisa and Julie Anderson
"Incident in New Baghdad"
James Spione
"Saving Face"
Daniel Junge and Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy
"The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom"
Lucy Walker and Kira Carstensen

Film Editing
"The Artist" Anne-Sophie Bion and Michel Hazanavicius
"The Descendants" Kevin Tent
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall
"Hugo" Thelma Schoonmaker
"Moneyball" Christopher Tellefsen

Foreign Language Film
"Bullhead" Belgium
"Footnote" Israel
"In Darkness" Poland
"Monsieur Lazhar" Canada
"A Separation" Iran

Makeup
"Albert Nobbs"
Martial Corneville, Lynn Johnston and Matthew W. Mungle
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2"
Nick Dudman, Amanda Knight and Lisa Tomblin
"The Iron Lady"
Mark Coulier and J. Roy Helland

Music (Original Score)
"The Adventures of Tintin" John Williams
"The Artist" Ludovic Bource
"Hugo" Howard Shore
"Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" Alberto Iglesias
"War Horse" John Williams

Music (Original Song)
"Man or Muppet" from "The Muppets"
Music and Lyric by Bret McKenzie
"Real in Rio" from "Rio"
Music by Sergio Mendes and Carlinhos Brown; Lyric by Siedah Garrett

Best Picture
"The Artist" Thomas Langmann, Producer
"The Descendants" Jim Burke, Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor, Producers
"Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" Scott Rudin, Producer
"The Help" Brunson Green, Chris Columbus and Michael Barnathan, Producers
"Hugo" Graham King and Martin Scorsese, Producers
"Midnight in Paris" Letty Aronson and Stephen Tenenbaum, Producers
"Moneyball" Michael De Luca, Rachael Horovitz and Brad Pitt, Producers
"The Tree of Life" Nominees to be determined
"War Horse" Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, Producers

Short Film (Animated)
"Dimanche/Sunday" Patrick Doyon
"The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore" William Joyce and Brandon Oldenburg
"La Luna" Enrico Casarosa
"A Morning Stroll" Grant Orchard and Sue Goffe
"Wild Life" Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby

Short Film (Live Action)
"Pentecost" Peter McDonald and Eimear O'Kane
"Raju" Max Zähle and Stefan Gieren
"The Shore" Terry George and Oorlagh George
"Time Freak" Andrew Bowler and Gigi Causey
"Tuba Atlantic" Hallvar Witzø

Sound Editing
"Drive" Lon Bender and Victor Ray Ennis
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" Ren Klyce
"Hugo" Philip Stockton and Eugene Gearty
"Transformers: Dark of the Moon" Ethan Van der Ryn and Erik Aadahl
"War Horse" Richard Hymns and Gary Rydstrom

Sound Mixing
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"
David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce and Bo Persson
"Hugo"
Tom Fleischman and John Midgley
"Moneyball"
Deb Adair, Ron Bochar, Dave Giammarco and Ed Novick
"Transformers: Dark of the Moon"
Greg P. Russell, Gary Summers, Jeffrey J. Haboush and Peter J. Devlin
"War Horse"
Gary Rydstrom, Andy Nelson, Tom Johnson and Stuart Wilson

Visual Effects
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2"
Tim Burke, David Vickery, Greg Butler and John Richardson
"Hugo"
Rob Legato, Joss Williams, Ben Grossman and Alex Henning
"Real Steel"
Erik Nash, John Rosengrant, Dan Taylor and Swen Gillberg
"Rise of the Planet of the Apes"
Joe Letteri, Dan Lemmon, R. Christopher White and Daniel Barrett
"Transformers: Dark of the Moon"
Scott Farrar, Scott Benza, Matthew Butler and John Frazier

Writing (Adapted Screenplay)
"The Descendants" Screenplay by Alexander Payne and Nat Faxon & Jim Rash
"Hugo" Screenplay by John Logan
"The Ides of March" Screenplay by George Clooney & Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon
"Moneyball" Screenplay by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin; Story by Stan Chervin
"Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" Screenplay by Bridget O'Connor & Peter Straughan

Writing (Original Screenplay)
"The Artist" Written by Michel Hazanavicius
"Bridesmaids" Written by Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
"Margin Call" Written by J.C. Chandor
"Midnight in Paris" Written by Woody Allen
"A Separation" Written by Asghar Farhadi

Living in the sticks has its drawbacks, namely the theatrical movie selection sucks. For that reason, I'll abstain from commenting except to say that a) go Rooney Mara, and b) Moneyball doesn't deserve a damned thing it was nominated for. Maybe sound mixing...

Stick around for a review of Serpico.

Angie, Queen(s) of the Desert?

2012-01-18T18:33:00.007-05:00

Yesterday I started reading Georgina Howell's biography of Gertrude Bell. Ms. Bell is a really fascinating individual: an Englishwoman who spurned pretty much all of her era's conventions, she did turns as an archaeologist, explorer, mountaineer, spy, Arabist and political player. If you're looking to credit (or blame) anyone for the current State of the Middle East, look no further than Ms. Bell; indeed, Christopher Hitchens calls her "the woman who made Iraq."

Today I came discovered that Ridley Scott, once he wraps up Prometheus, his mooted Alien prequel, is planning a biopic of Ms. Bell. Scott wouldn't be my first choice for the subject, but beggars can't be choosers.

Which leads us to the $64,000 question: Who is playing Gertrude Bell? Funny you should ask...

Yes, Angelina Jolie.

As if that weren't insulting enough, Jolie is also lined up to play Cleopatra.

Why get worked up over this? Hollywood recently has been turning lots of fascinating history into lousy films, from Public Enemies to J. Edgar. Red Tails, debuting this week, seems likely make a mess of the Tuskegee Airmen if the trailers are any indication.

This isn't a new phenomenon, of course; Hollywood's been cramming actors into ridiculous roles for time immemorial (Gary Cooper as Marco Polo? John Wayne as Genghis Khan?). Regardless, for a history buff like me it's disheartening. These are important, fascinating people who deserve to have their stories told, not poorly-thought-out schlock or Oscar-baiting bores. Is it so hard to ask they cast someone who looks and acts vaguely like the individuals they're portraying? Is it possible that a Ridley Scott epic can be anything but dull and derivative? And Angelina Jolie, seriously?

On the plus side, this might mean a Lawrence of Arabia remake with Leo DiCaprio. Stay tuned.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974)

2012-01-15T16:32:00.004-05:00

The '70s were arguably the best decade for crime films, and The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974) is a worthy entry. Joseph Sargent's creative thriller influenced a generation of crime films, from Reservoir Dogs to Speed, and directly inspired two remakes. But the original remains in a class of its own.

A quartet of color-coded criminals led by Mr. Blue (Robert Shaw) hijack an NYC subway train. Blue issues a chiling ultimatum to city officials: pay $1,000,000 in ransom money, or he'll kill a hostage every additional minute. The Mayor (Lee Wallace) agrees to pay, but Blue refuses to alter his deadline one iota - and has a few further tricks up his sleeve. Transit cop Zach Garber (Walter Matthau) takes charge of the investigation, keeping his head while his colleagues panic. The crooks always seem two steps ahead of the law, and Garber tries desperately to determine their next move.

Like most crime films of its era, The Taking of Pelham 123 is fairly down-to-earth. Peter Stone's script provides an amusing portrait of New York City, a racial tinderbox with an inefficient bureaucracy slowly lurching into action. Characters swear like sailors, casually drop racial epithets and argue over jurisdiction during hostage negotiations. The city cops and Transit authority jockey for credit (or blame), while the ineffectual Mayor wonders how it might effect his re-election. After viewing this gridlock, we cheer when Garber roughs up an oblivious Transit official (Dick O'Neill) who wants to carry on business as usual.

Of course, Pelham isn't a docudrama and its story is the main appeal. Most thrillers telegraph their twists in advance; Pelham is the rare movie that keeps the audience guessing to the end. Characters' quick thinking keeps the plot moving, unforseen actions (a car crash, a Transit cop pinned down near the train) complicate it. There are a few minor flaws: one of the hostages is an undercover cop, a fact that's virtually forgotten until the end, and the hostages' fate seems a mite convenient. But the clever bits more than compensate for it, especially Blue's grisly demise and the amusing finale.

Director Joseph Sargent shows talent he rarely displayed elsewhere. He keeps the story moving at a deliberate pace, mixing gritty action with a moody semi-docu style. Owen Roizman's photography and David Shire's fine score add to the experience. It's mind-boggling to think Sargent is the same man who directed Jaws the Revenge!

Walter Matthau (Charade) is the perfect Everyman hero. Introduced as a crusty bastard with a chip on his shoulder, his quiet competence, determination and quick-thinking allow him to outwit the criminals. Robert Shaw (A Man for All Seasons) gives an intensely focused, chilling performance: this is not someone you want to mess with. Martin Balsam (All the President's Men) is excellent as the one crook who's slightly likeable; Earl Hindman (The Parallax View) and Hector Elizondo round out the team. For sitcom fans, Jerry Stiller plays Garber's partner and Doris Roberts has a walk-on.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three was a nice surprise. I went in expecting a decent timewaster and got a near-perfect thriller. Certainly, it deserves its reputation as one of the best, most influential crime films of its era - no mean feat.

Westward the Women

2012-01-14T12:55:00.009-05:00

Westward the Women (1951) is an overlooked gem. William Wellman applies the same unsentimental grittiness to the Old West as he did to war films like Battleground, resulting in a stark, memorably unique oater.

Roy Whitman (John McIntire) runs a small, thriving boom town in California, but it's missing something: women. Whitman travels east, commissioning hard-bitten trail boss Buck Wyatt (Robert Taylor) to help him gather single females and transport them West. Plenty of women volunteer for the journey, but it proves extremely arduous. The cowhands can't keep their hands off the girls, the elements are harsh and hostile Indians are waiting around the bend. When Buck's men abandon the team, Wyatt, Whitman, Japanese sidekick Ito (Henry Nakamura) are forced to rely on their charges to complete the trip.

Westward the Women is a harsh film. It seems a subversion of John Ford's classics Stagecoach and Wagon Master, where Western settlement is a glorious, redemptive adventure. Here, Buck bluntly lays things on the line: at least a third of the women coming along will perish. It's a brutal attritional struggle, the women forced to survive accidents, stampedes, Indian attacks, rattlesnakes and inter-party strife. It's such a brutal experience that the few bits of sentimentality (the Italian family and their dog) don't really register.

Females fare poorly in the Western genre, usually relegated to token love interests, whores or weirdos with Freudian baggage (The Furies anyone?). Westward the Women's protagonists are refreshingly down-to-earth, lacking Hollywood glamor or twisted psychology. A few attachments form but Wyatt sternly forbids romance, realizing it will derail the train's chances. The women adapt readily to trail life, learning to ride, shoot and corral animals, though their eagerness doesn't always match their skill. This portrait of tough, self-sufficient frontierswomen is Westward's most interesting feature.

Wellman's previous looks at the Old West were similarly bleak: The Ox-Bow Incident, Yellow Sky. There isn't a dull moment here, each incident the building an atmosphere of dispair and tension. William C. Mellor's stark Utah photography manages to be beautiful and forbidding. The big selling point is the wonderfully gritty look and feel: the protagonists seem like pioneers, not movie-stars playing dress-up. Wellman's understatement continues even through the very Fordian finale, which plays as anti-climax rather than glorious celebration.

Robert Taylor (Devil's Doorway) is an unremitting hardass who thinks nothing of summarily executing a rapacious cowhand, and refuses to soften even after falling for one of his charges. John McIntire (The Far Country) is good playing an unusually sympathetic character. Henry Nakamura's Japanese (!) cowboy hedges around stereotype: largely used for comic relief, he later proves himself as Buck's dependable right-hand man.

The female ensemble cast, however, steals the show. Denise Darcel's (Vera Cruz) fallen woman goes through a lot, including an attempted rape, but remains endearing and tough to the end. Julie Bishop (Sands of Iwo Jima) and Lenore Lonergan also make impressions, though Renata Vanni's Italian widow is a bit irritating. The most interesting character, though, is Hope Emerson's Patience, a salty matron with a nautical vocabulary.

Westward the Women is an underrated Western. It's hard film to find, but definitely worth seeking out.

A Salute to Harry Flashman

2012-01-12T20:04:00.020-05:00

"Unspeakable and vile I may be, but at least I'm no hypocrite.... the last thing you want is for God to help me." - Harry Paget Flashman

Two years ago today, I was a junior at the University of Pittsburgh. It was probably the best period of my life so far: fun classes, lots of free time, little actual responsibility. I had just finished going through Peter Hopkirk's Great Game trilogy, a non-fiction chronicle of British and Russian skullduggery in the Middle East, and did some research online. Wikipedia, of all places, directed me to a book called Flashman (1969) by George Macdonald Fraser. A novel on the Anglo-Afghan War, thinks I? With the added hook that its protagonist is a coward who always comes out on top? Interesting.

I picked the book up at the library. After work, I trudged through the snow to the Chipotle on Forbes (not Qdoba, says you? One of life's mysteries) for dinner. As I choked down the vile burrito, I was already becoming engrossed in my novel. It only took a few pages of Flashman whipping a servant girl, staging a duel and getting dragooned into military service to hook me. Six hours later, ensconced in my closet-sized dorm, I closed the book, enchanted by a new hero and not caring about my homework.

What makes Flashman so appealing? At base it's a simple male fantasy: a warped James Bond meets Forrest Gump, starring a craven coward who always gets the girl (many girls in fact) and glory because of his failings. The plethora of action and raunchiness, including many bizarre sexual encounters, has an obvious appeal. But routine potboilers don't get admirers as diverse as P.G. Wodehouse, Christopher Hitchens and Keith Richards. Not long ago, Flashman was name-dropped in a debate over Parliamentary propriety.

So what sets George Macdonald Fraser apart from, say, Ian Fleming or Robert Ludlum?

History buffs will love Flashman. I came to Fraser fresh off Peter Hopkirk, and Flashman's depiction of the Anglo-Afghan War impressed me with its versimilitude. Fraser's descriptions of famous battles like Balaclava and Cawnpore have an unusual ring of authenticity down to telling details. He also has a perfect ear for period vernacular and dialect, his depiction of Victorian attitudes and speech ringing absolutely true. If his depictions of foreign lands veer towards the sensational, he generally respects and even admires their people. Then there's the copious footnotes; not many novelists invite you to check their work.

Fraser draws vivid portraits of many historical figures. Well-known individuals populate the books: the vulgar, bumptious Lord Cardigan (Flashman at the Charge), a boorish Otto Von Bismarck (Royal Flash), a young Abraham Lincoln (Flash for Freedom!), the crazy John Brown (...the Angel of the Lord). My favorite is the Rani Lakshmibai, whose sensitive portrayal in Flashman and the Great Game should shield Fraser from accusations of misogyny. These personages aren't always accurate but they're certainly credible - not to mention entertaining. His fictional creates, the suave Rudi Von Starnberg and Latin-spouting slaver John Charity Spring aside, are rarely as interesting.

Then there's Flashy himself. Formerly the villain of Tom Brown's Schooldays, Flashman becomes the quintessential anti-hero. He drinks, whores, gambles, bullies and is an inveterate coward. And yet he reaps rich rewards for his poltroonery, always mistaken for a hero. Flashman is all too aware of his improbable luck and good fortune: "The ideal time to be a hero is when the battle is over and the other fellows are dead, God rest ’em, and you take the credit."

Being Flashman's friend or lover is a bad bargain. "Anyone who's ass enough to sacrifice himself for Flashy deserves everything he gets," he muses in Royal Flash as he leaves his drinking buddy in the lurch. "Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down someone else's life for his own," quoth Flashy in Flashman on the March, having kicked his African lover over a waterfall. Others he's killed (directly or indirectly), left for a posse of slave hunters, sold to Apaches or pushed out of a moving sled while pregnant. Only rarely is he forced to account for these assorted treacheries.

This, I think, is Flashman's strongest appeal. Historical accuracy and well-drawn characters are good, and what's wrong with bloody battles and kinky sex? But I've long been fascinated by the idea of accidental (or unearned) heroism, even groping towards the idea in a few stories. Anti-heros are a dime a dozen these days, but usually they do something to justify rooting for them. Harry Flashman is a scoundrel to the end, brutally honest in telling his story, unafraid to deflate sacred cows or glory in amorality.

It's blasphemy to some Flashman fans, but I prefer Gino D'Achille's cover art to Arthur Barbosa's originals. Flashman's Lady (1977) is the best of the lot.

A discourse on quality. There are twelve books in the series, not counting Flashman's cameo in Mr. American. The first six are all gems, and it's very difficult to pick a favorite. The original Flashman is the most exciting, Royal Flash the funniest, Flashman at the Charge the most crazily plotted, ...Great Game the most serious and emotional, Flashman's Lady the most outrageous.

For my money, Flash for Freedom! takes the prize. This installment sees Flashman, in an amazingly convoluted plot, end up on all sides of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade: as a slave-runner, overseer, plantation hand and fugitive himself, from Africa to New Orleans to Kentucky and Illinois. Perhaps the best part, however, is that Flashman remains an unrepentant rogue, selling out friends and lovers and perjuring himself at the climactic court martial. Everything you'd want from a Flashman book is here, including a funny Abraham Lincoln cameo.

The final six installments are pretty hit-or-miss. Even the Flashman formula is subject to the law of diminishing returns, resulting in uninspired entries like Flashman and the Mountain of Light or ...and the Dragon. Then there's Flashman and the Tiger, an awful excretion centered around the premise that a 100-page baccarat game is more interesting than the Zulu War. (Fraser started out as a sports journalist and he has a lamentable weakness for sporting events; see also Flashman's Lady's interminable cricket matches.) The final entry, Flashman on the March, is mostly a return to form, marred by Fraser's proffering none-too-subtle commentary on the Iraq War.

Fraser's non-Flashman books are a mixed bag. The McAuslan stories are his next-greatest achievement, a wistful, quietly amusing look at the British Army at the twilight of empire, that's a world apart from Flashman. The Pyrates! tops Flashman in terms of over-the-top bawdiness, with a charming self-awareness. On the other hand, Black Ajax is more interesting than good, The Candlemass Road was a chore and The Reavers a trifle, and I couldn't even finish Mr. American (more interminable card games). His forays into screenwriting are just as variable, from the brilliant Three Musketeers to his disappointing Royal Flash adaptation.

Later in life Fraser became a crabby old Tory, his memoir a collection of cranky rants about "Rastafarians" and the EU. This is a shame, as it contradicts his fictional style: a wry, cynical sense of humor, remarkably sharp observations, respect for other cultures and an admirable unwillingness to pass judgment on his characters.

My mind frequently goes back to that cold January day, when Fraser opened a whole new world of adventure. For all the hours I've spent drinking, wenching, conniving, surrendering and unwittingly conquering the world with Harry Paget Flashman, Mr. Fraser earns my undying gratitude.

UPDATE: Flashman and the Tiger finally arrived in the mail today, just a day late for this post. Now I am the proud owner of the complete Flashman papers. 1/13/2012

Exodus

2012-01-11T18:40:00.007-05:00

The same year he broke the blacklist with Stanley Kubrick's Spartacus, writer Dalton Trumbo teamed with Otto Preminger for another outsized tale of national liberation. Exodus (1960) is one of Hollywood's more challenging epics: very long, very talky and with precious little action, it should be a thudding bore. But this adaptation of Leon Uris's novel is a powerful experience.

Recently widowed nurse Kitty Fremont (Eva Marie Sant) arrives on Cyprus, where the British military governor (Ralph Richardson) is detaining hundreds of Jewish refugees. Ari Ben Canaan (Paul Newman), a member of the Zionist Haganah, arrives in Cyprus with a cargo ship and a plan to smuggle the refugees into Palestine. A hunger strike leads to their success, but in Palestine Ari gets caught in a struggle between his moderate father (Lee J. Cobb) and revolutionary uncle (David Opatoshu). Refugee Dov (Sal Mineo), a bitter Holocaust survivor, joins the terrorist Irgun and is arrested by the British until rescued by the Haganah. Eventually Israel achieves independence, but Arab resentment gives rise to a new conflict.

Despite its near-four-hour length, Exodus is never boring. Preminger's film is wonderfully huge in scope, mixing authentic location shooting, a perfect cast and Trumbo's literate script. The movie will frustrate those looking for action and spectacle. Like Spartacus, it sets up battles and confrontations but only shows the bloody aftermath. The second half has its share of exciting setpieces, however, especially an elaborate jailbreak of terrorist leaders and a subsequent chase scene. Ernest Gold's evocative score is another highlight.

Preminger and Trumbo endorse Zionism as a great liberal cause. Discovery of Hitler's Final Solution let to an outpouring of horror and guilt in the West. The true story of the SS Exodus isn't half so bad as similar incidents (see: MS St. Louis) which occurred before and during World War II: restrictive immigration laws and Western indifference doomed untold European Jews. The war left millions of Jewish refugees with nowhere to go; the British Mandate of Palestine, with its sizeable Jewish population, became a pragmatic solution. Championing Israel was a liberal imperative, ignoring what the Arabs might think about a Jewish nation in their midst.

Exodus has no doubts about the righteousness of Israeli statehood. Jews languish in poorly-run camps on Cyprus, overseen by British troops either anti-Semitic or indifferent. Barak's Jewish settlement is a perfectly run communal society where even Arabs are welcome. The Arabs who oppose Israeli statehood are crudely represented by an odious ex-Nazi (Marius Goring). While characters debate the righteousness of the Irgun's terror campaign, the movie never seriously questions their motives.

Given the modern left's ambivalence towards Israel, Exodus's pro-Zionist attitudes might surprise viewers. In 1960, barely a decade removed from WWII, surrounded by Arab nations and viewed warily by the West, Israel was a clear underdog. In the aftermath of the Six Day War and four decades of heavy US support and Palestinian occupation, its position is more ambiguous.

Trumbo loved utopian excess and Exodus is no different. Ben and his father indulge in purple prose oratory about the coming paradise, while Arab sheik Taha (John Ireland) pleges his undying friendship. The scenes with Karen (Jill Hayworth), an improbably-innocent teenager, register more strongly: her monologue about Denmark's reaction to Nazi occupation is enough to melt the stoniest heart. But this aspect is contrasted with reminders of real-world nastiness. Dov's anguished reminiscence of his time in Auschwitz is skin-crawlingly effective. Exodus reserves the nastiest fates for its nicest characters, showing that the promised land is a long way off.

Paul Newman is in top form. Ben Canaan is more conventionally heroic than his usual troubled protagonists, but Newman's rugged charisma and gritty determination suit him perfectly. Eva Marie Saint (North By Northwest) has a difficult character arc - grieving widow, aloof humanist, passionate patriot - that she pulls off beautifully.

The supporting cast is a pleasant surprise. Of course Ralph Richardson and Lee J. Cobb provide their usual gravitas, and old pros Hugh Griffith (How to Steal a Million), Felix Aylmer (Becket), Gregory Ratoff (All About Eve) and Marius Goring (The Red Shoes) are always good. But outside of Rebel Without a Cause, when has Sal Mineo done anything worthwhile? When have John Ireland and Peter Lawford ever been anything but embarassing hams?

They're all in unusually fine form here. Mineo is superb as a traumatized punk turned revolutionary, nourishing a budding romance and finding a cause to believe in. Ireland plays his role with unusual sensitivity, and Lawford's caricature Englishman is amusing. Best of all is Jill Hayworth, whose Karen serves as the film's emotional rock.

Exodus is a fine film. It's a shame that some viewers will be put off by its politics, because it remains one of Hollywood's most thoughtful epics.

Se7en

2012-01-04T20:13:00.004-05:00

Before films like Zodiac and The Social Network earned him auteur buzz, David Fincher was an ex-music video director with a middling output, mixing a bleak visual style with hamfisted direction. Fight Club remains extremely divisive, and Alien 3 and Panic Room have few fans. Groggy will never forget The Game (1997), a carefully-constructed thriller sabotaged by a twist ending worthy of R.L. Stine.

The one early Fincher movie most people like is Se7en (1995), a grisly serial killer saga that tries to one-up The Silence of the Lambs in grotesquery. It's a slickly made genre product, with good acting and stylish direction covering a thin plot and shaky premise.

Grouchy old cop William Somerset (Morgan Freeman) and his testy new partner David Mills (Brad Pitt) investigate a series of gruesome homicides. A serial killer is targetting victims who have committed the Seven Deadly Sins, slaughtering them in appropriately grotesque fashion. Somerset and Mills cultivate a friendly relationship, though Somerset learns that Mills's wife Tracy (Gwyneth Paltrow) isn't exactly satisfied with life in the big city. Things take a bizarre turn when the killer (Kevin Spacey) turns himself in, hinting that there are further victims to uncover - saving the nastiest twist for last.

Se7en certainly gets points for style and atmosphere. Fincher and photographer Darius Khondji craft a memorably nasty atmosphere, a rotting city filled with bums, cockroaches and corpses. None of the murders are actually shown, but the hideous aftermaths (mutilated corpses, swarming bugs, hideous murder weapons) are disgusting enough. Individual set pieces work wonderfully, even if the internal logic is phony. On a visceral level, Se7en is extremely engrossing.

The surface gloss covers up a fairly shaky film. Fincer and writer Andrew Kevin Walker frame their intriguing premise in an implausible fashion; John Doe's Machiavellian tortures make the Joker look like a petty thug. Somerest and Mills' partnership plays like warmed-over Lethal Weapon, probably not the comparison a horror film desires. Even the ghoulish ending doesn't make much sense upon reflection: an innocent person dies, hence negating the killer's own rules. Its shock value, however, negates logical considerations.

Morgan Freeman is perfect for the world-weary Somerset, a far more interesting role than his poor man's Poitier schtick. On the other hand, Brad Pitt is supremely annoying. Pitt overacts like a 9th grade drama student, showing none of the subtlety or self-effacement of his recent turns. Kevin Spacey is wonderfully chilling, making his absurd villain almost believable. Gwyneth Paltrow registers strongly with minimal screen time. Strong support comes from R. Lee Ermey (Full Metal Jacket), Richard Roundtree (Shaft), John C. McGinley (Platoon) and Richard Schiff (TV's The West Wing).

Se7en is a well-made but fairly routine thriller. The movie requires more suspension of disbelief than your average sci-fi film, but on another level it's a morbidly engrossing spectacle.

Indiana Jones: The Sequels

2012-01-02T17:15:00.007-05:00

Steven Spielberg and George Lucas's first Indiana Jones collaboration, Raiders of the Lost Ark, is almost unanimously regarded a classic adventure film. Their three sequels (not to mention the very good Young Indiana Jones TV series) have a more mixed reputation. Each has their fans, but also detractors.

In this review, I'll take a look at the first two Indy sequels: Temple of Doom (1984) and The Last Crusade (1989). Despite near-constant TV showings I'd never seen either film the whole way through until now. I caught Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in theaters way back in 2008, and may revisit it for completeness's sake.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)

Temple of Doom is a very unsatisfying sequel. The movie gets a lot of flack for its un-PC portrayal of India, but it has bigger problems: Doom just lacks the flare and excitement of the original. From its dull narrative to the annoying sidekicks, it's a near-complete misfire.

After escaping the clutches of a Shanghai crime lord, Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) ends up in India with nightclub singer Willy Scott (Kate Capshaw) and precocious Chinese kid Short Round (Jonathan Ke Quan) in tow. While on the way to Delhi, Indy and Co. stumble across a village claiming to be victimized by the Thuggee cult. A local ruler (Roshan Seth) scoffs at these claims, but Indy soons finds out the truth: the Thugs are alive and well, operating a mine with child slaves and scheming to convert the entire world to Hinduism.

Temple of Doom gets off to a pitch-perfect start. The early Shanghai scenes are clever (a Mandarin song-and-dance number to Anything Goes) and exciting, and get us in the right frame of mind. Unfortunately, once we reach India the film takes a nosedive. The entire second half takes place in the titular temple and mines, and with no narrative thrust things grow tedious. Spielberg amps up the gore and wild action scenes but it doesn't amount to much excitement; we're just happy that the last 10 minutes takes place outdoors.

Besides lifting the plot and several setpieces wholesale from Gunga Din, Temple of Doom unfortunately appropriates that film's racial and religious politics. There are bloodthirsty Thugs who "kill for the sake of killing," grotesque gags about eating monkey brains, and something as inappropriate as a voodoo doll (!) crops up. An adventure film in 1939 could get away with it; a movie from the era of Gandhi, Heat and Dust and A Passage to India has no excuse. Of course, if Temple were more entertaining we could overlook its political incorrectness.

Harrison Ford has to carry the film himself, and he's more than up to the task. The movie's best gag has Indy preparing to replicate Raiders's "shoot first" scene, only to find he's missing a pistol! Kate Capshaw's whiny damsel in distress is unbearably obnoxious; we definitely miss Karen Allen. Jonathan Ke Quan's Short Round is cute at first but quickly wears out his welcome. Amrish Puri makes a ferocious villain, but Roshan Seth (Gandhi) and Phillip Stone's (The Shining) characters seem to have been left on the cutting room floor.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)

After Temple of Doom's mixed reception, Spielberg and Lucas successfully returned to the original film's template. If The Last Crusade is overly reminiscent of Raiders, it's certainly more dynamic and enjoyable than Temple, not the least from its fun teaming of Harrison Ford and Sean Connery.

A few years after his Ark of the Covenant adventure, Indy is approached by archaeologist Walter Donovan (Julian Glover) to help track down the Holy Grail. Those damned Nazis, this time led by Colonel Vogel (Michael Byrne) and duplicitous Elsa Schneider (Alison Doody), have kidnapped Jones' archaeologist father (Sean Connery), who has a lifelong obsession with the Grail - and a strained relationship with his son. Reteaming with old pals Professor Brody (Denholm Elliot) and Salah (John Rhys-Davies), Indy and Jones Sr. race the Nazis through Venice and the Middle East, where another temple holds the object of their quest.

Crusade takes awhile to get going, with a long and borderline superfluous prologue of a young Indy adventure (featuring River Phoenix). Unlike Temple, however, the film moves, with a variety of locations (Venice, Petra in Jordan) and creative action scenes providing thrills. The slugfest atop a moving tank rivals the original's big chase scene, and the clever puzzles in the finale are properly tense. Indy's testy father-son relationship adds another layer to his character without bogging down the narrative. Raiders comparisons are hard to avoid, with its biblical artifacts, booby trapped temples, carbon-copy villains and similar gross-out effects, but we don't really care. It's better to see familiar ground well-covered than a botched "original" story.

Sean Connery is inspired casting as Indy's dad; he and Ford have great chemistry, and Connery brings a perfect tongue-in-cheek attitude to the role. Denholm Elliot and John Rhys-Davies reprise their roles from Raiders, with Elliot especially getting a lot more to do. Unfortunately, villains Julian Glover (The Young Victoria) and Michael Byrne (A Bridge Too Far) and pale next to Paul Freeman and Wolf Kahler, while Alison Doody's interesting character is underused. Vernon Dobtchef (The Day of the Jackal) has a tiny bit.

I think Steven Spielberg has taken up enough of my time for now, and maybe we can return to more substantial fare soon. Happy New Years to my readers!

War Horse

2011-12-31T12:57:00.005-05:00

Steven Spielberg's new live action offering is a mixed bag. More syrupy than an IHOP breakfast, War Horse has enough striking scenes to make it worth watching.

Devon farmer Ted Narracut (Peter Mullan) buys thoroughbred horse Joey at an auction. His son Albie (Jeremy Irvine) bonds with the horse and gets him to plow the family fields, foiling the dastardly schemes of landowner Lyons (David Thewlis). When World War I breaks out, Ted sells Joey to the British army, and the horse goes through a nightmarish odyssey. Joey serves successively as a British cavalry horse, an ambulance driver, the pet of a French girl (Celine Buckens) and her doting grandfather (Niels Arestrup), and a German artillery horse, somehow managing to survive each encounter. At the Second Battle of the Somme he escapes captivity and reunites with Albie, now serving in the British army. But will the badly injured horse survive?

Steven Spielberg has never shied away from sentimentality, but War Horse takes it to an almost-unbearable extreme. The first half-hour is an assembly of obnoxious cliches: precocious kid, broken-down father, long-suffering wife, underdog horse, a mustache-twirling landowner demanding rent and an impossible goal to save the farm. No emotional scene is unaccompanied by ennobling lighting and pompous John Williams music, least of all the Gone With the Wind-inspired finale. John Ford and Frank Capra would blanch at this emotive excess.

Once this preliminary nonsense is disposed of, War Horse gets a lot more interesting. Writers Richard Curtis and Lee Hall provide an episodic structure, allowing Joey (and the audience) to meet a cross-section of vividly-rendered personages. Spielberg takes the war content seriously, showing the Western Front as a repository of suffering and waste. Civilians are displaced from their homes, families separated, soldiers killed at random. Animals like Joey are cruelly worked to death, even more disposable than their human counterparts. Even his miraculous escape from No Man's Land might not save him.

Spielberg's direction is handsome, contrasting idyllic shots of the Devon countryside with the ugliness of war-torn Europe. If he goes overboard in spots, he shows a more sensitive touch in other scenes, especially the extended sequences with the French girl, and a scene where British and German soldiers team up to free Joey from barbed wire. The quiet human scenes are more effective than the overwrought "arty" bits.

The battle scenes are shot in approved Hayes Code fashion, with the gory details tastefully obscured. My favorite bit is a cavalry charge gone disastrously wrong, with a beautiful shot of riderless horses hurtling through the German lines. The large-scale Somme battle is less inspired, with a tracking shot blatantly stolen from Paths of Glory.

Newcomer Jeremy Irvine is boringly guileless and weepy, allowing Joey to steal their every scene. The supporting cast is better. Emily Watson and Pete Mullan shine as Albie's hard-luck parents: screw the kid, these two deserve a movie of their own. The best characters come in the war scenes: Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch as British cavalrymen with anachronistic views of warfare, Leonard Carrow and David Kross (The Reader) as a pair of ill-fated German soldiers, and best of all, Celine Buckens (surprisingly uncutesy) and Niels Arestrup.

Whether War Horse is appealing depends on one's temprament. It's grandly cliched and sugary enough to kill a diabetic, but these qualities make it comfortable viewing. The "old-fashioned" label certainly applies; I leave it to the viewer whether that's good or bad.

RIP Uncle Ross

2011-12-30T22:14:00.003-05:00

A small personal note: my great-uncle Ross, a veteran of the Second World War, recently passed away at the age of 87. His funeral was today and unfortunately I could not attend. He had quite an interesting life and I can't hope to do it justice here; his obituary gives some idea.

I did see War Horse tonight and I'll try and have a review up for tomorrow. In the meantime 2012 is only 26 hours away!

The Adventures of Tintin

2011-12-29T18:58:00.006-05:00

Again I claim ignorance of a very popular literary property: Belgian artist Herge's Tintin comics have found loving audiences for over 80 years, yet I only know them by reputation. Please take this into account for my review of The Adventures of Tintin. In his animated feature debut, Steven Spielberg presents an entertaining, if disposable, motion capture adaptation.

Intrepid reporter Tintin (voice of Jamie Bell) and his fox terrier Snowy buy a model of the sailing ship Unicorn at a market, little realizing this will launch them on an epic caper. Sinister Ivan Sakhrain (Daniel Craig) demands the model, which Tintin soon discovers contains a clue to a hidden treasure. Tintin and Snowy are kidnapped by Sakhrain, and team up with the drunken Captain Haddock (Andy Serkis), whose whiskey-soaked memory holds the key to the Unicorn mystery. Their adventure takes them across the sea to Morocco, where another model of the Unicorn lay in wait.

Tintin starts a bit awkwardly, launching its story with perhaps undue haste. But it quickly gains its own momentum, engrossing its audience in a unique universe. Several reviewers have compared Tintin to Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the go-for-broke action scenes certainly rival Indy's exploits. The frenetic chase through a Moroccan bazaar, ludicrously building in true Spielberg fashion, is the best action scene I've seen in quite some time, though the lengthy pirate flashback is probably the film's highlight. The characters remain ciphers and the plot is super-thin, but these are technicalities in a story like this.

The decision to use motion capture irked many Tintin fans, who feel it doesn't (or couldn't) capture Herge's distinct visual style. This uninitiated reviewer thought it worked just fine: the characters look almost real, but are still able to engage in cartoon antics without live action constraints. Spielberg keeps the comic book origins intact with its oddball characters, vivid rendering of exotic locales, and even "deep focus" shots with action-heavy backgrounds. Viewers looking for escapsim won't have any qualms.

Jamie Bell is a very likeable Tintin, but Andy Serkis's drunken, lovably boisterous Captain Haddock is the real show-stealer. Well-known voices like Daniel Craig, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Toby Jones and Cary Elwes populate supporting roles.

I can't rate The Adventures of Tintin as an adaptiation of Herge, but I will recommend it as breezy escapism. No masterpiece, its modest charms make for enjoyable viewing.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T19:29:00.004-05:00

Merry Christmas to all of my readers! Hope you all have a good one.

Tomorrow I'll try and see Steven Spielberg's War Horse; the trailers and early reviews make it look and sound right up my alley. I may also try and catch The Adventures of Tintin and the new Sherlock Holmes before year's end. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy sadly isn't playing within a plane ride of here so that's out for now.

Until then, I'll leave you with Richard Corliss's list of the ten worst Christmas movies. That, and a piece by James Poniewozik regarding the cultural significance of Groggy's favorite holiday film, A Christmas Story.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

2011-12-24T16:18:00.006-05:00

I'm not a literary cove, so I've never read Stieg Larsson's Millennium books. As someone who's slowly becoming a David Fincher fan, however, I thought I'd check out his adaptation of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I cannot compare to the books or the Swedish version, but on its own merits the film works just fine.

Corporate head Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer) enlists journalist Mikael Blomqvist (Daniel Craig), recently shamed from a libel suit, to resolve a family mystery. Henrik's daughter was murdered 40 years ago, and he can't let ago of the disappearance - not the least because the killer sends him annual mementos. When Blomqvist's investigation hits a snag, Vanger's partner (Steven Berkoff) suggests he enlist the help of Lisabeth Salander (Rooney Mara). Lisabeth is a ward of the state with violent tendencies, but she's also a brilliant hacker and investigator. Even with Lisabeth's help, the case is tough to crack: the Vangers are an extended family creepshow and each one seems a plausible suspect. However, the case is more complex than either imagines.

Larsson's nihilism (or Steve Zaillan's adaptation anyway) perfectly fits with Fincher's thematic preoccupations. The twisted dynamics of the Vanger family, with corruption, incest and Nazi collaboration, make the protagonists of Thomas Vinterberg's Festen look well-adjusted. There's little love for the Swedish welfare state, with Lisabeth forced to debase herself for a perverted custodian's (Yorick van Wageningen) favors. Fincher's stark mise-en-scene, mixing gruesome violence with snowbound Nordic locations and a brooding Trent Raznor-Atticus Ross score, leads to an engrossingly grim experience. The only drawback is that Fincher takes a long time to set the scene and longer still to leave it; the deliberate pace and length (158 minutes) might turn some viewers off.

Like Zodiac, Dragon Tattoo works better as a character study than a narrative. Lisabeth is sharply drawn and believable in all her particulars: we feel sympathy for her plight early on, but recoil when she mutilates her tormentor. She finds a kindred soul in Lvndqvist, whom she'd investigated in an earlier case, but she can't distinguish her personal attachment with his professional interest. She uses her skills to take down Lvndqvist's enemy, but can't attract his attention as a "friend." Lvndqvist, wrestling public ridicule with personal turmoil, is a perfect counterbalance: both find success only in their work.

Rooney Mara made a strong impression in Fincher's The Social Network and she's superb here. Besides a drastic physical transformation, Mara immerses herself at the role, at turns likeable and frightening, vulnerable and nasty. Lisabeth Salander could be ridiculous but Mara's subdued turn makes her uncannily credible. I'd be interested to check out the Swedish version to see how Noomi Rapace compares.

Daniel Craig gives his best non-Bond performance, a pillar of assurance and righteous determination. The supporting cast is superb, with Christopher Plummer's (The Man Who Would Be King) haunted patriarch, Stellan Skarsgard's (Pirates of the Caribbean) deceptively charming brother and Yorick van Wageningen's slimy social worker registering strongest. Steven Berkoff (Barry Lyndon), Robin Wright (The Conspirator) and Joely Richardson (The Patriot) assay smaller roles.

The Girl in the Dragon Tattoo is a bit long in the tooth and its twists and turns aren't especially novel. It still makes for an interesting experience, not the least for its unique protagonist. I certainly wouldn't mind two sequels.

Groggy Dundee, Some Day You'll Hang! Part Two

2011-12-21T20:07:00.002-05:00

Sad news, amigos: I don't think I'll be able to finish the Western Round-up this year. Another Groggy promise reniged.

On the other hand, there are a number of films playing theatrically that I might get to see in the next couple weeks. Stay tuned for those reviews!

The Way of the Gun

2011-12-18T14:40:00.008-05:00

Christopher McQuarrie made his screenwriting bones with Bryan Singer's The Usual Suspects (1995), a twisty thriller that proved a surprise hit. McQuarrie's subsequent career mixed some good efforts (Valkyrie) with some wretched ones (The Tourist). His sole directoral effort remains The Way of the Gun (2000), an overachieving B movie that amounts to very little.

Sad sack crooks Parker (Ryan Phillipe) and Longbaugh (Benicio Del Toro) (get it?) overhear something at a sperm bank (!) that gets their minds turning. Turns out a rich businessman (Scott Wilson) is having a child by surrogate mother Robin (Juliette Lewis), and the duo kidnap her in a blaze of gunfire for an outrageous ransom. A convoluted chase occurs, with Wilson's goons (Taye Diggs and Nicky Katt) and freelance "bagman" Joe Sarno (James Caan) on Parker and Longbaugh's trail, each with motivations of their own.

The Way of the Gun's interesting story lay smothered under self-indulgent, faux-Tarantino excess. For a movie with so much dialogue and exposition its characters are surprisingly thin, and the endless complications and double-crosses quickly grow tedious. Characters putter around scheming and chatting, occasionally shooting someone, frequently forgetting why they're doing it. It doesn't help that they speak in obnoxious, phony "hardboiled" dialogue, sounding like brain-damaged noir characters. Pulp Fiction's dialogue isn't realistic but it certainly has style and verve. McQuarrie's is no more clever nor believable than his overwrought plotting.

McQuarrie's pedestrian direction doesn't help. His staging and camera work is competent, but his work lacks style or the craft's finer elements. Scenes go on long after the point ended and the pace moves at a deadening crawl. The climactic shootout is lots of fun, mixing bloody excitement with grim humor (Parker gets a nasty surprise at one point), even if it makes little sense. Joe Kraemer's score is oddly reminiscent of Maurice Jarre, borrowing a percussion line from Lawrence of Arabia and the rattling castinets of The Professionals.

Benicio Del Torro and Ryan Phillipe do a good job acting dour and world-weary which is all the script requires. James Caan's character isn't fully realized; his big reveal is sublimated and has little impact on the story. The supporting cast fares better: Juliette Lewis does the best work, making a really ridiculous character believable. Taye Diggs (Rent) steals his scenes as a coolly professional bagman with his own motivation. Old pros Scott Wilson (In Cold Blood) and Geoffrey Lewis (The Wind and the Lion) land solid supporting roles. Sarah Silverman is an obnoxious bitch who gets punched in the face.

The Way of the Gun is a convoluted mess that defines trying too hard. It has a good cast and the finale is excellent, but the road getting there is hardly worth the effort.

Scrooge (1951)

2011-12-17T10:17:00.004-05:00

A Christmas Carol is on a list with The Three Musketeers and Shakespeare as the most frequently adapted literary tale. Charles Dickens' story of holiday redemption has seen versions silent, musical, television, animated, comedy, Muppet and everything in between. I have fond childhood memories of A Muppet Christmas Carol and a 1984 George C. Scott version, as well as a live performance at Ford's Theatre in D.C. Less fondly remembered are the banal Patrick Stewart starrer and the Godawful Bill Murray vehicle Scrooged. (And who can forget Blackadder's take on the story?) A simple tale with a powerful message, it's perfect cinematic material.

The above have their fans (that's not even mentioning Albert Finney's musical Scrooge), but 1951's Scrooge remains the best-loved version. Relatively simple and effective, it achieves the right mixture of holiday whimsy and Victorian gloom. Of course, it wouldn't be anything without the great Alistair Sim.

Is there a sentient being who needs a plot summary? Ebeneezer Scrooge (Alistair Sim) is a hopelessly greedy, miserly businessman until he's visited by three ghosts who convince him to change his ways. If you don't know this story, welcome out from under your rock.

Scrooge succeeds through simplicity. It remains close to the source material, with gloom and remorse leading to joyous revelation, its additions generally positive ones. Brian Desmond Hurst's simple use of double exposures during ghost sequences is more effective than the flashy effects of recent takes. The familiar cast registers strongly, with a not-very-cutesy Tiny Tim (Glyn Dearman), a believably obsequious Bob Crachit (Mervyn Johns) and wonderfully rustic Cockney bit players. A lack of songs certainly helps too (no offense to Jim Henson).

Scrooge fleshes out Dickens' themes of avarice and class oppression more than other versions. The film adds an interesting subplot to the story, where Scrooge is "corrupted" by rapacious businessman Mr. Jorkin (Jack Warner). A later scene has Scrooge and Marley entrap Jorkin into signing over his business. Beyond being a simple greedy old man, this film's Scrooge is more well-rounded and believable in his seduction by profit. Along with its grim depictions of lower-class life, it packs a stronger kick than other Christmas Carols.

Alistair Sim really makes the film. His elastic face and ghoulish voice make him ideal casting, and Sim invests the character with perfect humanity, warmth and humor. It's an easy character to caricature, but Sim hits the right dramatic notes and makes the character his own. Scrooge's hilarious reactions to his transformation may have been ad-libbed, and certainly work better than usual. Scrooge has been played by many great actors (Albert Finney, Michael Caine, George C. Scott, Patrick Stewart) but none have left such an indelible mark on the character.

The supporting cast includes some interesting faces. Michael Hordern (Royal Flash) chews lots of scenery as Marley; Jack Warner (The Ladykillers) appears as one of Scrooge's business partners; Patrick Macnee (TV's The Avengers) is a younger Marley; Peter Bull (Dr. Strangelove) narrates and has a small onscreen bit.

Scrooge is certainly in the upper-tier of Christmas Carol adaptations. I remember liking the George C. Scott version more, but in lieu of tracking that one down Alistair Sim works just fine.

In Memoriam: Christopher Hitchens

2011-12-16T19:56:00.011-05:00

Not really film related but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the death of my favorite contemporary writer, Christopher Hitchens. Ordinarily I wouldn't bother you with an off-topic post, but as I spent countless hours of my college career perusing his essays, books and Youtube videos, I feel a need to comment.

Love him or hate him, Mr. Hitchens was one of the truly interesting minds of our era. He's one of the few writers who could nimbly navigate the political, historical, theological, philosophical, cultural and literary with ease. Read his demolishing of Pat Buchanan's World War II revisionism, his perceptive take on The Baader-Meinhoff Complex or pondering the importance of Martha Stewart for just a taste. Best of all, I've recently discovered he's another fan of the Flashman novels, and has written several interesting pieces on them.

In my conservative youth (say, three years ago) I always appreciated his intelligent defense of the Iraq War. While he did buy into the Bush Administration's line about WMDs etc., Hitchens framed the war in humanitarian terms: Saddam Hussein is an irredeemable, dangerous villain who was better off dead, and that Iraq deserved a right to govern itself. Ignoring the guilt-tripping of other leftists, Hitchens argued our history of propping up Saddam's regime only increased our responsibility for setting it right. If Hitchens was wrong about Iraq, and one can certainly argue that, he was articulately and earnestly so.

This is not a slide from left to right. It fits in perfectly with Hitchens' support of humanitarian, internationalist foreign policy and longtime aversion of Islamic fanaticism. Hitchens condemned the Ayatollah Khomeni's fatwah against Salman Rushdie while others saw righteous indignation. He championed American engagement in Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo before it became fashionable to do so. He loves America (as evidenced in his memoir Hitch-22) and angrily savages it for not living up to its ideals. That the likes of Noam Chomsky cannot drop their reflexive America-bashing to see other evils in the world is their fault, not Hitchens'.

In recent years Hitchens has become known as an atheist activist, with his best-selling book God is Not Great and innumerable debates and lectures on the topic. I'm more ambivalent than hostile towards religion and generally find Hitchens strident on this topic. My own beliefs aside, I've known too many good people of fatih to share his views, and believe secular ideologies are capable of the same evil. Still, it's always a pleasure to see him tear into religious insanity, be it Jerry Falwell or Osama Bin Laden, and admire his consistency on the topic.

Of course, Hitchens loved debating, even if it devolved into mean-spirited argument. Always ready with a quip or a cutting jab, he never shied from confrontation or insult. Who can forget his dismissal of Jerry Falwell: "give him an enema and he could be buried in a matchbox"? Of course, his best moment may have been flipping off Bill Maher's audience on live TV. No one's mastered the sound bite better than Hitch.

Certainly there's much I disagreed with. His campaign against Mother Theresa always struck me as ridiculous and deliberately provocative. His tireless screeching about Henry Kissinger ceased being interesting after the 5,000th identical article. Whenever someone confronted him with the secular tyrannies of Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, he engaged in excrutiating semantical gymnastics to prove they were either religious states or "like religions." And yes, his lack of decorum - calling Ronald Reagan a "cruel and stupid lizard" on the occasion of the latter's death - was occasionally a bit much.

These differences of opinion, however, only highlight my admiration. Somehow he managed to be unpredictable without being inconsistent, and never gave a damn what anyone thought about him. I often hated what he had to say, but when we agreed I was proud to have someone like him on my side.

Expect at least two new reviews by next Monday!

The Onion Field

2011-12-07T20:46:00.004-05:00

Harold Becker's The Onion Field (1979) is another solid crime film. This adapatation of Joseph Wambaugh's non-fiction book, depicting a pointless murder and its nasty fallout, is a really sour, affecting drama.

In 1963, Los Angeles Detectives Karl Hettinger (John Savage) and Ian Campbell (Ted Danson) make a routine traffic stop that goes badly awry. Their targets are petty crooks Greg Powell (James Woods) and Jimmy Smith (Franklyn Searles), who get the drop on the cops, kidnap them and murder Campbell, with Hettinger narrowly escpaing. Powell and Smith are quickly apprehended, but Hettinger is forced to relive the incident time and again - through trial testimony, interviews and nightmares - causing him to mentally unravel. The two criminals find ways to manipulate the courts, trying to worm their way off death row.

The Onion Field draws comparison with In Cold Blood, not the least in its duo of perfectly-matched accidental killers, but is even more bleak and angry. Karl's slip into kleptomania and near-suicide makes for disturbing viewing; only his very patient wife (Dianne Hull) keeps him from a complete collapse. More disturbing still, however, is his colleagues' eagerness to judge him. While an older cop initially sticks up for Karl, his superiors coldly denounce him a coward, exacerbating his fragile mental state. The question of what he could (or should) have done is ignored.

Most damning of all is the depiction of Warren-era judicial liberalism. Powell reads a few law books in jail and finds it shockingly easy to bilk the criminal justice system. He rigs the game, using technicalities to examine sympathetic witnesses and stay his execution, while manipulating the initially-reluctant Jimmy into changing his story. Greg's web of deceit reminded this viewer of 10 Rillington Place and Zodiac: one downside of a free society is that some clever criminals can escape (or at least delay) justice. After this film, a viewer wonders if Dirty Harry has a point.

Becker's direction is subdued, allowing the violent actions and seedy locales to speak for themselves. The kidnapping and murder is a horrifying scene for its lack of stylization, a tense build-up leading a tragic, stupid mistake. (Powell's misinterpretation of the Lindbergh Law leads him to believe kidnapping is a capital crime.) The film's second half drags on a big long, focusing too much on the crooks and not enough on Karl, but it remains appallingly fascinating. Eumir Duodato's subdued score is perfect, making nice use of a recurring bagpipe theme.

John Savage (The Deer Hunter) perfectly captures Karl's precipitate fall from bright-eyed cop to haunted survivor. James Woods is stellar: his portrayal of the short-tempered, crafty Powell is electrifying, in a role that sadly typecast him as a creep. Franklyn Searles's wimpy desperation is a perfect counterpoint to Woods's flamboyance. Dianne Hull does nice work as Karl's steady wife. Christopher Lloyd (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) has a tiny bit and Ted Danson makes a strong impression.

The Onion Field is another fine true crime film. Its bitterness and despair aren't easily forgotten, raising some disturbing questions about justice and personal guilt.

RIP Harry Morgan

2011-12-07T20:28:00.004-05:00

Another classic celebrity passed away: today, the incomparable Harry Morgan. He's best-remembered for TV's M*A*S*H*, but I'll always think of his hilarious bit in The Shootist, gloating over John Wayne's untimely demise.

Between him and Bill McKinney, that makes two actors from The Shootist dead in a week. Ron Howard better watch his back...

On the bright side, happy 96th birthday to the incomparable Eli Wallach. He who thinks Eli Wallach is mortal understands nothing about Eli.

Nothing.

RIP Bill McKinney

2011-12-06T20:09:00.005-05:00

Almost missed this one: Bill McKinney passed away last Thursday. McKinney was a familiar face in '70s cinema, with a resume including such films as Deliverance, The Outlaw Josey Wales and The Parallax View. MSTies might remember him from Final Justice, where some Maltese chick dispatched him with a flare gun.

It's been over two weeks since my last review. I've been super-busy with work and other things so sadly, not much time for movie watching. I did watch The Onion Field on Sunday and hope to have a review up soon. Not sure if I'll do anything special for the holidays yet. If nothing else, I'll try and finish my Western round-up by the end of the year.

Zodiac

2011-11-20T08:37:00.006-05:00

David Fincher's Zodiac (2007) is a superlative film. An excellent mixture of character study and crime saga, it works on both levels as a compelling drama about obsession.

In the late '60s and early '70s, San Francisco is terrorized by a mysterious killer known only as the Zodiac, who kills seemingly without motivation. He sends taunting letters to the San Francisco Chronicle, piquing the interest of crime reporter Roger Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) and cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal). The journalists' private investigation clashes with SFPD Detective Dave Toschi's (Mark Ruffalo) probe into the case. Toschi chases down a number of suspects, including pedophile Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch), but hard evidence exonerates them. The investigation continues long after the killings stop: a death threat drives Avery to drink, Toschi is accused of forging a Zodiac letter and Graysmith loses his job and wife (Chloe Sevigney) to his obsession.

The greatest police movies (In Cold Blood comes to mind) show just how hard a policeman's job is: having to navigate redtape, corruption, overlapping jurisdictions, egos, conflicting evidence, lack of manpower and often-hostile media coverage. Often, pursuing the suspect is a secondary concern. "A policeman's job is easy only in a police state," remarks Charlton Heston in Touch of Evil. Zodiac highlights this difficulty with its complex portrayal of a convoluted, unsolvable case.

Toschi's investigation is a complete mess. Zodiac's taunting letters and phone calls are a headscratcher, but copycats and cranks compound the situation even more. The Zodiac either takes credit or receives blame for completely unrelated crimes. The media turns Zodiac's rampage into a circus, from Avery's shenanigans to a media-hungry lawyer (Brian Cox) contacting Zodiac through a talk show. The movie strongly hints at Allen's guilt (he certainly comes off as a creep), but his fingerprints and handwriting don't match the killer's and the main witness against him is inconsistent. Without good luck or strong leads the investigation stalls.

In this sense, Zodiac is one of Hollywood's most mature police films. Cop movies generally either treat circumstantial evidence as proof or opt for brainless action, but Fincher avoids both. At one point, Toschi walks out of a screening of Dirty Harry, whose psychotic killer is loosely inspired by the Zodiac. Fantasy cops like Harry Callahan are fun but their shoot first mentality is dangerous in reality. As 10 Rillington Place demonstrates, sending an innocent man the gallows isn't merely an intellectual argument; in that case, the real killer continued his murders for years. Unfortunately, this nuanced approach allows some criminals to slip through the cracks, and Toschi's adherence to principle only earns him grief.

The other side of the coin is a fascinating portrayal of obsession, focusing on the journalists who covered the case. Avery's outrageous tactics (following his own leads, talking to out-of-town cops) screw up the police investigation and ruin his own reputation. But at least Avery's a crime reporter; Graysmith's interest is unfathomable to anyone. A stray comment by his wife, years after the fact, causes him to restart the investigation on his own, following the slenderest leads beyond reason. The scenes of Graysmith's descent into monomania are extremely disturbing, and make a stronger impression than the bloody killings early on.

David Fincher's directoral output is hit-or-miss but he's on solid ground here. Harris Savide's digital photography is some of the best I've seen, creating the perfect moody, docudrama atmosphere. Fincher seamlessly integrates CGI to recreate '70s San Francisco; aside from some showy scenes (the time-elapse construction of the Transamerica Pyramid) the computer work is nearly undetectable.

Robert Downey Jr. revived his career with this film, his eccentric Avery a good prototype for Iron Man and Sherlock Holmes. Jake Gyllenhaal nails Graysmith's strange mannerisms and neurotic obsession brilliantly. Best of all, however, is Mark Ruffalo (Shutter Island). Toschi inspired Steve McQueen's Bullitt (another Hollywood supercop), but Ruffalo subtly portrays him as a good cop worn down by a difficult, frustrating case, unable to move on with his life.

The supporting cast is perfect. Brian Cox (Nicholas & Alexandra) is superbly slimy as Melvin Belli, the attorney who develops a strange affinity towards the Zodiac. John Carroll Lynch (Gran Torino) makes an excellent creep; even if he isn't the Zodiac he comes off as a first-class nutter. Chloe Sevigny is sweet as Graysmith's wife, unable to cope with his obsession. Various other cops and officials are played by Anthony Edwards, Philip Baker Hall, Elias Koteas (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Donal Logue (The Patriot) and Dermot Mulroney (J. Edgar), all in top form.

Zodiac is a wonderful crime saga. By focusing on the difficulties of police work and the pitfalls of personal obsession, it earns points above its peers.

The Man from Colorado

2011-11-16T22:00:00.004-05:00

The Man from Colorado (1948) is a fairly typical Hollywood Western. Henry Levin's beatifully shot oater flirts with some dark thematic material, but ultimately turns into a routine shoot-'em-up.

Colonel Owen Devereaux (Glenn Ford) returns home from the Civil War a hero, and is elected Judge by the grateful citizenry. Only his second-in-command (and new Marshal), Del Stewart (William Holden), knows Owen's secret: he gradually went insane over the course of the war, ordering his troops to massacre surrendering Confederate soldiers. Owen's psychotic tendencies continue after the war, as he becomes a ruthless hanging Judge who sides with mine boss Ed Carter (Ray Collins) when the latter usurps small miners' claims. After a holdup leads to an innocent man's lynching, Del defects to the miners and initiates a showdown with his old friend.

The Man from Colorado begins with a decidedly dark cast. There's interesting thematic material, with returning veterans bilked out of their claims by an opportunist businessman and the ambiguities of business law. The character conflicts are interestingly established: Owen's struggle to remain sane, Del's conflict between the law and justice, the miners goaded into violence by Owen's unfair ruling. But in the second half, ambiguities fade and it becomes a much more conventional show, with Del changing sides and Owen turning unremittingly batty. After all the buildup, the last half hour seems a bit too neat.

Henry Levin is no John Ford but he turns in some fine work here. William Snyder's beautiful Technicolor photography is remarkable; even when the pace flags there's at least some nice images to look at. There are some nice setpieces, especially the nightmarish finale: Owen confronting Del and Company in the burning village is one of the most visually striking scenes in any Western.

Glenn Ford is excellent. He's undercut a bit by the same issue as Gary Cooper in Man of the West: we hear that he was a decent guy before the war, but only see him as a psychopath. Regardless, Ford handles Owen's transformation into a nutjob very well and makes him an interesting antagonist. William Holden (sporting the same blond dye job as Sabrina) is fine, but his character's conflict isn't fully realized. Ellen Drew goes through the perfunctory love interest motions. Among the supporting cast, standouts are Edgar Buchanan (Ride the High Country) as the amiable town doctor, Ray Collins (Citizen Kane) as a venal mine boss and James Millican (The Man from Laramie) as a deserter-turned-criminal.

The Man from Colorado is good but a bit underwhelming. Someone like Anthony Mann, Budd Boeticher or Sam Peckinpah could have made this story into a classic. As it stands though, it's still a respectable Western.

J. Edgar

2011-11-13T09:31:00.004-05:00

Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar is an ambitious mess. The controversial founder of the FBI seems like an ideal subject for a biopic, and Eastwood was an interesting choice to direct. But the movie is a failure in almost every regard, from its slapdash storytelling to its fuzzy portrayal of the man himself.

In 1919, John Edgar Hoover (Leonardo Dicaprio) is a young Justice Department clerk. After a bomb nearly kills Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer (Geoff Pierson), Hoover is put in charge of the Bureau of Investigation, rounding up leftists, radicals and aliens for imprisonment or deportation. Hoover is given almost unlimited power as he reshapes the Bureau into an incorruptible fighting force through impossibly high standards, scientific crime solving and canny media promotion. Hoover scores PR successes by fighting gangsters like John Dillinger and catching Bruno Hauptmann (Damon Herriman), kidnapper of the Lindbergh baby. Through it all, though, he's tormented by his relationship with number two man Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer).

J. Edgar Hoover is a fascinating figure, and I'm surprised it took so long for a biopic to be made. Aside from Bureau-promoted propaganda (The FBI Story) and TV movies, his film appearances have been limited. Bob Hoskins' flouncy portrayal of Hoover in Oliver Stone's Nixon was an embarrassment; Billy Crudup's fierce, PR-obsessed portrayal was one of the high points of the recent Public Enemies. Now comes J. Edgar, which makes a dull, ill-judged biopic out of a fascinating man.

The primary culprit is the script. Dustin Lance Black's (Milk) handling of the Hoover-Tolson relationship is speculative but tasteful, even touching. Otherwise, the film fails. A loudly-stated "power corrupts" theme doesn't wash: the young Hoover who orchestrates the Palmer Raids is no different from the old man who squares off with Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. Black's narrative flits between flashbacks, presenting different periods of Hoover's life in parallel. It's an interesting conceit but sloppily done; the film flirts with interesting ideas, but can't settle on a theme or a message. The events it focuses on (the Palmer Raids, Bruno Hauptman, Hoover's vendetta against King) are superficially treated. A facile framing device and unreliable narrator make things even worse.

More telling is what the film leaves out. Aside from the Kansas City Massacre and Hoover's staged arrest of Alvin Karpis (Manu Intiraymi), the film completely skips Hoover's war against John Dillinger and other public enemies. Hoover's massive PR campaign (appearing in films, comic books, radio shows) is only alluded to. Nothing about the FBI's anti-sabotage operations in WWII, the '50s Red Scare or Hoover's coddling of the Mafia. Joe McCarthy is improbably labeled an "opportunist" ("Thank God somebody is doing it!" was the real Hoover's assessment). Of all the Presidents Hoover served under, we only encounter Richard Nixon (an oddly-coiffed Christopher Shyer).

I don't think these are history buff complaints; these are key parts of Hoover's life and career. Watching Hoover's interactions with Presidents, or how he came to view Martin Luther King as no better than Emma Goldman, would have given us more insight into his character, how he became so powerful and why he was so feared. Obviously Eastwood couldn't cover every aspect of Hoover's long career, but the focus is so slipshod, its handling of what it does address so shallow, that this justification doesn't watch. J. Edgar bites off more than it can chew, covering too much and too little at the same time.

Technically the film isn't very interesting either. Eastwood is an assured director but the film's mis-en-scene is monochrome and bland, the staging of key set pieces rote, the score dull. While never quite boring, the film's slow pace and choppy narrative don't generate much interest either.

I was very skeptical of Leonardo DiCaprio's casting but he pulled it off. Dicaprio nails Hoover's self-righteous rigidity, pettiness and repression, and even in old-age makeup he's convincing. But like so much else, he's done in by the script, which allows Hoover little depth or development over 50 tumultous years. This is no fault of DiCaprio, but a screenplay which can't come to grips with its subject.

Armie Hammer (The Social Network) is excellent, mixing moral uprightness with affection for Hoover. Hammer is definitely a comer and this role might net him an Oscar nod. The rest of the cast is wasted. Judi Dench has some nice scenes as Hoover's mom but Naomi Watts's secretary is one-note. The supporting cast has a lot of interesting names but few make an impression. Jeffrey Donovan's (Changeling) testy Robert Kennedy and Stephen Root's (The Conspirator) wood expert make the most of brief screen time, but Dermot Mulroney, Josh Lucas, Geoff Pierson, Ken Howard (Rambo) and Lea Thompson (Howard the Duck) don't register.

J. Edgar feels like a missed opportunity. A movie that had a better sense of who Hoover was could have been a masterpiece. Instead we've got this messy biopic that has little to say about its subject beyond his sexuality. Pity.

Groggy Dundee, Some Day You'll Hang!

2011-11-11T20:03:00.005-05:00

A few months ago I facetiously wondered if Hollywood was going to reboot the classic Western show The Rifleman as their next remake.

Well, waddya know, CBS is planning to do just that.

Now let's hope they don't take me up on the second part of the offer, e.g. vampires. If that happens, I might have to eat some white ketchup to induce vomiting.

P.S.: Happy Veterans' Day! I'm too tired for a substantial post but rest assured I appreciate your service.

Tom Horn

2011-11-10T20:53:00.008-05:00

Steve McQueen's penultimate film, Tom Horn (1980) is a good but flawed Western. With a creative visual sense and interesting anti-hero, it falls just short of iconic status.

Former Indian scout Tom Horn (Steve McQueen) rolls into 1903 Montana with .45-60 Winchester rifle and a chip on his shoulder. Horn is hired by local rancher John Coble (Richard Farnsworth) as a "stock detective," tracking and (when necessary) killing rustlers and Coble's rivals with ruthless efficiency. The big cattle bosses taking over the region grow disturbed by Horn's brutality, and the murder of a 15 year old boy provides them a perfect opportunity to get rid of the grumpy gunsel.

Tom Horn starts out great, its gritty "realism" better than most '70s Westerns. William Wiard's unfussy direction provides an interesting facsimile of turn-of-the-century Montana, highlighted by John A. Alonzo's gorgeous photgraphy. The violent, creative action scenes are another highlight: one clever shootout is staged in a slaughterhouse, with scatterguns splintering wood and splattering raw meat. And Horn himself, a prickly killer callously used and discarded by his bosses, makes a unique hero.

In the later sections, though, Tom Horn runs out of steam. The film's "death of the West" and anti-corporate preoccupations come off like warmed-over Peckinpah and overwhelms the second half. After Horn's arrest, the movie spirals into a melange of dull verbiage and inappropriate flashbacks with Horn's lover (Linda Evans). Wiard incorporates some odd style choices (a trial voiceover playing over an empty courtroom) and heavyhanded symbolism (Horn dropping his shell necklace) in case some viewers don't get the point.

Steve McQueen does a nice job with a difficult character. Once a hero who helped captured Geronimo, Horn is now a surly gun-for-hire with a penchant for brutality, a Western man out of place in new society. The real Tom Horn wasn't a pretty character, and McQueen doesn't make him any more likeable than necessary. McQueen's nuanced performance ranks among his very best.

The Western genre virtually died in the '80s, and Tom Horn is a lovely bow for two generations of Western character talent. Old hands like Slim Pickens (Dr. Strangelove) and Elisha Cook Jr. (Shane) are onhand, along with a newer crop of Western "characters": Richard Farnsworth (Ulzana's Raid), Billy Green Bush (The Culpepper Cattle Co.), Geoffrey Lewis (The Wind and the Lion) and Roy Jenson (Dillinger). One of the Western genre's pleasures is seeing familiar faces, and Tom Horn has plenty.

Tom Horn could have been a classic Western with a little fine-tuning. Despite these flaws, it's still an enjoyable film with a nice turn by Steve McQueen.

Congrats to Savant!

2011-11-07T21:44:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to give a quick shoutout to my online acquaintance and favorite critic DVD Savant, who has just released a new book. Congrats to Glenn!

Will Penny

2011-11-06T13:28:00.008-05:00

Tom Gries stumbled with his action-packed 100 Rifles but he's on much-firmer ground with this character-rich Western. With a career-best Charlton Heston heading an excellent cast, Will Penny (1968) is a winner.

Will Penny (Charlton Heston) is an aging cowhand getting too old for his job. Along with his younger partners (Lee Majors and Anthony Zerbe) he survives an encounter with psychotic Preacher Quint (Donald Sutherland) and his squirrely sons and winds at the ranch of hard-luck settler Catherine (Joan Hackett) and her son (Jon Gries). Ranch boss Alex (Ben Johnson) gives Will a job, but he's ambushed by Quint's gang and left for dead. Will holds up up with Catherine and son and begins to develop feelings for them, but Will's self-doubt (and those pesky Quints) complicate matters.

Will Penny is a marvelously down-to-earth Western. Gries's sparse script and spirited direction (beautifully shot in Inyo County, California) provide a realism without overdoing the revisionism: we actually believe we're in the Old West. The obvious comparison is The Culpepper Cattle Co., but Will Penny scores points over that grungy flick because you actually care what's going on. Instead of pervasive filth, Will Penny focuses on its story and characters.

Will Penny's plot is episodic in a good way, allowing Will to encounter an interesting array of situations. Gries handles the relationships with admirable maturity: Catherine and Will have some sweet scenes, especially a bath scene and her teaching Will a Christmas carol, that make its resolution poignant. The Quints are feral rednecks reminiscent of the Hammonds from Ride the High Country and we can't wait to see them wasted; Will's partners are nicely sketched individuals rather than mere foils. The final shootout is a bit contrived (though certainly exciting), but the melancholy finale (a muted replay of Shane) works perfectly.

Charlton Heston isn't thought of as a Western star but he did some of his best work in the genre (The Big Country, Major Dundee). Heston cited this film as a personal favorite, and certainly his performance is among his best. Illiterate, rough-hewn, his physique giving way to middle-aged paunch, Penny is a decent fellow trying to make sense of his life: he's known nothing but cow-punching and doesn't know how to deal with his advancing age or affection for Catherine. Heston tones down his usual exuberence, giving a thoughtful, considered turn.

Joan Hackett makes an excellent love interest, charming and reserved. Donald Pleasance (Halloween) turns in his usual hammy performance, a perfect counterpoint to Heston's stoicism. Lee Majors and Anthony Zerbe (Cool Hand Luke) have nice chemistry with Heston while creating memorable characters of their own. Director's son Jon Gries plays a very likeable kid; he'd go on to a respectable acting career of his own.

Western fans will love the supporting cast. Ben Johnson and Slim Pickens were real-life cowboys before starting in movies and they take to their roles like fish to water. Bruce Dern, Luke Askew and Matt Clark were ubiquitous fixtures of this era's Westerns and are right at home. Further down the cast list are G.D. Spralin (The Godfather Part II) and Roy Jenson (The Wind and the Lion).

Will Penny is an enjoyable Western. In an era often obsessed with grim revisionism, Tom Gries' oater nicely mixes a down-to-earth tone with stylish entertainment.

Bye-bye Mr. Nice Duck

2011-11-01T06:01:00.004-04:00

Today is my 23rd birthday, and I'd like to thank my readers for the greatest gift of all: Not forcing Howard the Duck onto my Popular Posts feature for the first time ever.

Please do your humble blogger a favor by keeping it this way.

Rio Lobo

2011-10-31T20:58:00.005-04:00

John Wayne's stretch of films between True Grit and The Shootist is a pretty grim sight, The Cowboys notwithstanding. Exhibit A is Rio Lobo (1970), his final collaboration with Howard Hawks. Even Jacques Rivette would have a hard time defending this film, a mediocre rehash of previous Wayne glories.

During the Civil War, Union Colonel Cord McNally (John Wayne) sees a gold shipment robbed by Confederate partisans led by Captain Cordona (Jorge Rivero) and Sergeant Tuscarora (Christopher Mitchum). When the war ends, McNally runs into his old adversaries and learns that the robbery was set up by a traitor amongst McNally's ranks. McNally's quest for vengeance leads to the scummy border town of Rio Lobo, where his old adversary (Victor French) and a crooked Sheriff (Mike Henry) run the town as a private fiefdom. McNally teams up with the ex-Rebels, feisty girl Shasta (Jennifer O'Neill) and a grouchy old coot (Jack Elam) to set things right.

Lazy is the perfect word for Rio Lobo. After a creative curtain-raising train robbery, the film's plot drifts all over the place and never amounts to anything remotely interesting. Unable to generate much narrative interest, Hawks falls back on a rerun of Rio Bravo and El Dorado for the last half-hour. The Duke who shunned help in Rio Bravo enlists a gaggle of townspeople for the final showdown, but that's the only fresh wrinkle in a hopelessly derivative Western.

John Wayne is always a pleasure to watch, but he's let down a lousy supporting cast. Jorge Rivero (Soldier Blue) and Chris Mitchum are uncharismatic losers who aren't fit to hold the Duke's jockstrap. Love interest Jennifer O'Neill's acting talent sure doesn't match her looks, and villains Mike Henry and Victor French are as threatening as neutered poodles. The lone bright spot is Jack Elam (Once Upon a Time in the West) in the Walter Brennan/Arthur Hunnicut role as Wayne's grouchy sidekick.

Rio Lobo is overwhelmingly mediocre. It's not painful to watch, but even the most hardcore Duke fans won't find much of interest.

Death Wish

2011-10-30T10:37:00.008-04:00

Death Wish (1974) is a good counterargument to conservatives who bitch about "liberal Hollywood." Lambasted by most critics on its release, it was embraced by audiences sick of crime, hippies and liberals. Today it plays poorly, an abrasive, amoral and sadistic right-wing fantasy.

Mild-mannered architect Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) is shocked when his wife (Hope Lange) is killed, and daughter (Kathleen Tolan) raped by thugs. With the NYPD unable to track them down, Kersey goes west to try and forget about past events. After spending time with a gun-loving client (Stuart Margolin) in Tucson, Kersey comes back to New York with a .32 revolver and a grudge against all criminals, going on a killing spree of muggers and hoodlums. Kersey becomes a popular hero, leaving police unsure how to deal with him: after all, he's doing law enforcement's job much better than them!

Conservative backlash movies and revenge flicks were a staple of the early '70s, as much a product of their time as hippie garbage like Billy Jack. Don Siegel's Dirty Harry stands out as the best because it's a good cop film outside of its posturing. Death Wish doesn't have much to offer outside of Charles Bronson shooting muggers, and while that's fun to a degree the movie is far too strident to ignore its message.

Set in John Lindsay's New York, depicted as "a wretched hive of scum and villainy," Death Wish is as obnoxiously slanted as something like The Chase. Every street corner conceals a mugger, every subway commandeered by knife-toting goons, and you aren't even safe in your own house. Early on a character calls for the "underprivileged" to be placed in concentration camps and there's little to dissuade us from this view. Kersey's mission isn't even really revenge since he doesn't bother targeting his wife's killers; he's an avenger for all aggrieved New Yorkers, and the film even shows him inspiring other vigilantes.

Death Wish makes no bones about endorsing Kersey's violence. The obvious comparison is Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs, which also turns a meek liberal into a killing machine, but Michael Winner's hack direction and Wendell Mayes's hamfisted script can't touch Peckinpah's disturbing artistry. While Peckinpah bemoans humanity's propensity for violence, Winner embraces it as a positive good and stacks the deck so we can't possibly disagree. Screw the liberal courts and the ineffectual cops: get a gun and blow away malcontents yourself.

The movie was a big hit in 1974 and still has a following today. Obviously audiences took comfort in the depiction of an Everyman taking on the "sickness" of post-Vietnam America, and some viewers still find its message appealing. Our old friends at Big Hollywood uphold Death Wish as a masterpiece for its "uncompromising truthfulness." I suppose people are entitled to their fantasies.

Personally, I wouldn't even call Death Wish "conservative" because of its naked contempt for law and order. Rather, it's an extreme celebration of individualism, making Kersey John Galt with a .32, "[holding] the omnipotent cure of being able to act." I'm inclined to agree with Vincent Canby's characterization of the film as "self-righteously inhumane," glorying in its sadistic violence as a celebration of individualism at any cost.

Charles Bronson has never registered strongly with me as a leading man. I've always enjoyed his work in ensembles like The Magnificent Seven and The Dirty Dozen, but despite commanding screen presence he isn't much of an actor. We have no problem buying Bronson as a vigilante but the attempts to paint him as a bleeding-heart liberal in the early going is laughable. Bronson would be typecast in this role, reprising his role in four Death Wish sequels and playing vigilante characters again (Murphy's Law) and again (The Evil That Men Do).

Most of the supporting cast is one-note and forgettable, playing annoying ciphers: Vincent Gardenia's clueless cop, Hope Lange's Stepford wife. More interesting is the slew of future stars/ in bit parts: Jeff Goldblum (Jurassic Park) as one of the attackers early on, Christopher Guest (The Long Riders) as a beat cop, Saul Rubinek (Unforgiven) as a subway thug, and Denzel Washington (supposedly) as another goon.

Death Wish is an extremely grating film. It's essentially a conservative response to Stanley Kramer "message films," replacing impassioned speeches with bullets and beatings. Unfortunately for Michael Winner, poorly-handled cinematic violence can be just as obnoxious as a Spencer Tracy stemwinder.

The Hanging Tree

2011-10-26T22:01:00.005-04:00

Another solid "adult Western" from Delmer Daves (Broken Arrow, Jubal), The Hanging Tree (1959) moves beyond the shallow characterizations and shootouts so common to the genre. Its interesting cast, beautiful photography and complicated story make for an enjoyable watch.

Dr. Joseph Frail (Gary Cooper), an amoral man with a past, drifts into a Montana mining town and sets up shop. Rescuing petty criminal Rune (Ben Piazza) from a lynch mob, Frail makes the boy his indentured servant, initiating an tense relationship. Things grow more complicated when Elizabeth Mahler (Maria Schell), the lone survivor of a stagecoach robbery, is nurtured back to health by Frail, with the townspeople - including mad faith healer Grubb (George C. Scott) - gossiping about their relationship. When Frail and Elizabeth forge a business arrangement with the lecherous Frenchy (Karl Malden), trouble isn't far behind.

The Hanging Tree is as much melodrama as Western, scoring with a fascinating cast. Frail starts out the film mixing with a violent temper with a controlling nature, becoming more sympathetic as layers of his personality are peeled away. He's matched with interesting supporting players: Rune's relationship with Frail seems to invite Freudian interpretation, Frenchy's mixture of friendliness and primal lust is perfectly-rendered, while the chipper, strong-willed Elizabeth makes an interesting heroine. This interesting cast place The Hanging Tree in a league with the best character-driven Westerns: The Big Country, The Gunfighter, The Man from Laramie.

Delmer Daves captures some beautiful Yakima, Washington locations, highlighted by an intricately-constructed mining camp. The film is deliberately paced but Wendell Mayes and Halsted Welles' expert script keeps things interesting. Action is sparse but the violence, when it comes, is shockingly direct. Daves doesn't mind incorporating overt Biblical imagery into the finale, as the gold-crazed miners torch their own lodgings. In this context, the seemingly abrupt, convenient ending fits like a glove. Max Steiner adds a nice score, topped with cheesy Marty Robbins ballad.

Gary Cooper gives one of his best performances. Frail is a more convincing heel than Cooper's reformed outlaw in Man of the West since we actually see his nastiness, yet his vulnerability and misanthropy makes him interestingly complex. Maria Schell is appealing, even if her conversion from damsel in distress to tough frontier girl is abrupt. Karl Malden's (On the Waterfront) amiable bully and Ben Piazza's put-upon manservant provide solid support. Familiar face Karl Swenson (Major Dundee) has a larger-than-normal role as a friendly shopkeeper. The weak spot is George C. Scott (Patton), squandered in a bizarre role.

The Hanging Tree makes for interesting viewing. Delmer Daves and Co. craft an enjoyable film that's smarter than the average Western.

Firecreek

2011-10-23T19:50:00.005-04:00

By the late '60s the Western genre became polarized between the gritty, violent revisionist Westerns of the Leone-Peckinpah school and the cornball reactionary Westerns of Andrew McLaglen and Company (a few outliers like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid notwithstanding). Firecreek (1968) falls somewhere in between, mixing some nasty violence with an old-fashioned plot and legendary stars James Stewart and Henry Fonda. The result is an interesting if unremarkable oater.

Outlaw Bob Larkin (Henry Fonda) leads his scruffy gang into the small town of Firecreek. He finds a near-deserted village of wimps and losers, well-represented by Sheriff Cobb (James Stewart), underpaid, concerned with his pregnant wife (Jacqueline Scott) and eager to avoid conflict. Larkin recuperates in a hotel with a pretty widow (Inger Stevens), while his subordinates - especially Earl (Gary Lockwood) and Drew (James Best) - run roughshod over the wimpy townspeople. When crack-brained stablehand Arthur (J. Robert Porter) stands up to the gang, the crooks finally push Cobb too far.

Critics usually write off Firecreek as a minor work, but it's a perfectly serviceable Western whose biggest sin is unoriginality. Most wags compare the film to High Noon but Stewart fans will recognize elements of The Far Country as well. Cobb doesn't want to get involved in the town's problems, though family obligations and an indifferent, wimpy populace qualify his aloofness: he's more isolated than amoral. Larkin is fashioned as a likeable villain who tries to restrain his men, but his shifts to cold-blooded nastiness are poorly handled. It's pretty obvious where the story's headed, even if specific stops aren't telegraphed, and the story holds few surprises.

Firecreek at least fashions these cliches into something interesting. Calvin Clement Sr.'s script plays as a time-release drama, allowing the tension to slowly boil over. The townspeople are an interesting cross-section of malcontents, from the haunted store owner (Dean Jagger) to the Indian hotelier with a half-breed son (Barbara Luna), and their passivity is more credible than the holier-than-thou hypocrites of High Noon. The outlaws initially temper their rowdiness, but they've soon got the measure of the wimpy townspeople, making a confrontation inevitable. What Firecreek lacks in originality it makes up for in craftsmanship.

Director Vincent McEveety mixed television work with innocuous Disney fluff like The Million Dollar Duck, but does a fine job here. There's some unexpectedly grisly violence, including a rape scene and pitchfork stabbing, and the final shootout is exciting and creatively staged, Cobb blasting his opponents from underneath a boardwalk. Veteran cinematographer William Clothier provides beautiful photography and Alfred Newman contributes a fine score. Even when the story clunks, McEveety's assured direction keeps things on an even keel.

Firecreek's main attraction is its legendary co-stars, though neither is at the top of his game. James Stewart does well with his character's difficult arc: his early scenes as an amiable (if resentful) wimp, his authority represented by a tin star made by his son, aren't very interesting, but his characterization comes to life in the second half. Stewart's descent into anguish and righteous fury is perfectly executed, and we're definitely cheering for him in the final reels as he comes to his senses.

Henry Fonda's career was in the dumps, mixing epic cameos (How the West Was Won) with light comedies (Yours, Mine, and Ours), and one imagines him relishing the chance to play against type here. Unfortunately, Larkin is sidelined for much of the film and Fonda doesn't make his shifts in attitude convincing. His unremittingly evil Frank in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West is far more effective.

Gary Lockwood (2001: A Space Odyssey), James Best (Winchester '73) and the ubiquitous Jack Elam make perfectly loathsome villains. Dean Jagger (Elmer Gantry) gets some nice scenes, and J. Robert Porter's lamebrained stableboy makes a strong impression before his tragic exit. Among the female cast, Inger Stevens's icey hotelier and Brooke Bundy's trollop are disposable, but the ravishing Barbara Luna, grouchy Louise Latham and Jacqueline Scott steal their scenes. Morgan Woodward (Cool Hand Luke), John Qualen (The Searchers) and Bill McKinney (The Outlaw Josey Wales) pop up in bit parts.

Firecreek won't appear on too many lists of all-time great Westerns, but it's an enjoyable film all the same. Good direction and a fine cast make up for most of its shortcomings.

Escape From Fort Bravo

2011-10-22T15:34:00.007-04:00

John Sturges's Escape from Fort Bravo (1953) is an underwhelming film with an intriguing premise. Everything's in place for a crackerjack Western, but loopy plotting and forced characterization result in an uneven film.

Captain Roper (William Holden) is the tough second-in-command at Ft. Bravo, a cavalry outpost in New Mexico during the Civil War serving as a POW camp. He's constantly having to tangle with Confederate Captain Marsh (John Forsythe) and his escape-minded prisoners, but his harsh methods earn him the enmity of the fort's commander (Carl Benton Reid). Feisty Texas girl Carla Forester (Eleanor Parker) arrives at the fort and strikes up a flirtation with Roper, helping Marsh and his men escape. Roper tracks the Rebels down, but the arrival of hostile Mescalero Apaches forces the Yanks and Rebs to work together.

Escape from Fort Bravo was a milestone in the career of John Sturges, allowing him to break free of grunt work on cheesy programmers (For the Love of Rusty, anyone?). Sturges built an impressive CV of Westerns (The Magnificent Seven) and action flicks (The Great Escape) that are slickly made and undemanding, with a shade more characterization and depth than average genre fare.

Escape from Fort Bravo has an intriguing premise but doesn't add up. The film is incongruous as its mixture of impressive Death Valley locations and obvious painted sets, morphing from a fairly mooted prison camp drama to an action film. The camp scenes are static and largely devoid of tension: the POWs seem to get along with their guards (heck, Marsh and another officer are invited to the regimental ball!) and the escape far too easy. In the last 30 minutes, the film settles into a Lost Patrol-style siege which can't help but be compelling, but the overall effect is disappointing.

A particular gripe is writer Frank Fenton's shoddy characterization. We're told again and again that Roper is a real hardass, but after his intro dragging a sunburned POW into camp, he does nothing to justify this assessment. Carla starts out as a resourceful frontier gal, fighting off Indians with a derringer and using her feminine wiles like a proto-femme fatale, but her devolution into blubbering arm candy by the final reels is inexcusable. Painfully on-the-nose dialogue spells out character relations and scenarios that are already obvious. Show don't tell is a rule this film constantly violates.

In crunchtime, Sturges is primarily an action director and Fort Bravo delivers here. There are several inventive set pieces, including a cavalry patrol's tense trot through a canyon (sans musical accompaniment). The Indians aren't pop-up targets but a clever, dangerous enemy; in the final siege, a clever bit involves the Apaches "bracketing" the troopers with lances for an arrow strike. Sam Peckinpah clearly used the film as a touchstone for his much better Major Dundee, borrowing the setting and lifting several scenes wholesale, namely the POWs defiantly whistling Dixie during role call.

William Holden makes a fine two-fisted hero. It's an undemanding role for the star of Sunset Blvd. but Holden's assured performance almost lives up to the script's hype. Eleanor Parker (Mission to Moscow) is fetching but can't handle Carla's lousy character arc. The wooden John Forsythe (In Cold Blood) makes a dull antagonist and his lack of chemistry with Parker doesn't help. William Demearst (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) and William Campbell provide an amusing doubles-act as agitated Rebel prisoners. Richard Anderson (Seven Days in May) makes an impression as Holden's lieutenant and Polly Bergen (The Long Gray Line) has a bit part.

Escape from Fort Bravo makes for an uneven Western. The film has its moments, but overall it feels like a lot of wasted potential.

The State of Cinema, 10/21/2011

2011-10-21T20:50:00.007-04:00

It's Friday night, when I usually like to go out and watch a movie after work. I'm not too demanding when it comes to Friday night movies, but even I have limits as to mindless entertainment. Exhibit A is the Richland Cinemas line-up for this evening, which makes you think that Hollywood has just given up.

In case you doubt, these were my potential choices:

Dolphin Tale
Footloose
Johnny English Reborn
Machine Gun Preacher
The Mighty Macs
Moneyball
Paranormal Activity 3
Real Steel
The Thing
The Three Musketeers

So, let's recap: three remakes*, two sequels, and a movie I've already seen and didn't care for. That leaves what appear to be two "inspirational" sports stories, a Gerard Butler flick and something with an aquatic mammal. The strangest thing is that The Ides of March played at my local theater for a grand total of one week.

I usually find rants about how movies today suck, blah, blah, blah, asinine and obnoxious, but that list is enough to strike fear into the heart of the most plebian moviegoer. I guess this is what Netflix is for.

* - The Thing, I guess, is technically a prequel. Hopefully you'll forgive the short-hand.

Doc

2011-10-18T19:54:00.008-04:00

The early '70s were the heyday of the revisionist Western. Earlier films like Devil's Doorway and The Gunfighter questioned the frontier myth to varying degrees, but it wasn't until the late '60s that the backlash against Manifest Destiny flowered. Westerns inevitably reflect contemporary social mores, and heroic cowboys fighting black-hatted bad guys, shooting Indians and winning the West didn't jibe with the counterculture zeitgeist, John Wayne's later vehicles notwithstanding.

This new breed of oaters provided very modern takes on Native Americans (Little Big Man), race relations (Hombre), legendary gunfighters (Dirty Little Billy) and outlaws (The Great Northfield, Minnesota Raid). These films also aped Sam Peckinpah's hyperviolence and Sergio Leone's daffy plotting, to little effect. The super-polished look of old-school Hollywood gave way to faux-"authentic" griminess: films like The Culpepper Cattle Co. see filth as an end unto itself.

Inevitably Wyatt Earp, the legendary symbol of law and order, came under fire. John Sturges's flawed but interesting Hour of the Gun (1967) showed that Earp wasn't an angel, but Frank Perry's Doc (1971) depicts him as a greedy, murderous crook. This angle might be worthy of consideration if the film containing it weren't so crummy.

Tubercular gunfighter Doc Holiday (Stacy Keach) rolls into Tombstone, Arizona at the behest of old pal Wyatt Earp (Harris Yulin), a two-fisted Marshal with political ambitions. Earp's caught in the middle of a feud with County Sheriff John Behan (Richard McKenzie) and the Clanton-run Cowboys and needs Doc's help to muscle out his rivals. Doc juggles a relationship with Kate Elder (Faye Dunaway), a whore he met on the road to Tombstone and mentors a young gunslinger (Denver John Phillips), making him reconsider his plans. Events come to a head, however, as Wyatt goads the Cowboys into a one-sided showdown at the OK Corral, compelling Doc to take sides.

Doc starts off brilliantly: a bone-tired Doc saunters into a trading post, picking a fight with two saddle-tramps and "winning" Kate in a card game. This scene is beautifully shot and remarkably tense, setting the stage for an interesting Western. Not to worry though, Doc soon abandons this interesting direction in favor of pompous mediocrity.

While making Doc Holiday his protagonist, Perry exorciates Wyatt Earp. The film depicts Earp as a glorified mob boss, knee-deep in vice rackets, politically ambitious and ruling Tombstone with an iron fist. The real Earp had many of these traits, but in depicting the Cowboys as harmless victims and Johnny Behan as "honest" (!) Doc forfeits its claims to realism. In this context, the ludicrous staging of the OK Corral showdown, with the Earp clan mowing down the surrendering Clantons with shotguns, seems perversely appropriate.

Warping history is the least of Doc's problems, however. The movie's focus on Doc's romance with Kate falters due to a strange relationship arc and an unconvincing resolution. Doc's paternal relationship with The Kid builds to a groan-worthy conclusion: by taking part in the OK gundown it's like Doc is (gasp!) killing himself! And that's not to mention Pete Hamil's awful dialogue: don't miss Doc and Kate's heartfelt conversation about flatulence. Sure, the sets are believably rustic and there's plenty of familiar Almerian scenery to admire, but plenty of better Westerns can say the same.

Stacy Keach redeems a lot with his excellent performance, capturing Doc's inner conflict and hopeless resignation. The rest of the cast is weak. Faye Dunaway's vulgar Kate is about as convincing a frontier gal as Candice Bergen in Soldier Blue: her amusing trollop in Little Big Man is much more credible. Harris Yulin's (Scarface) crooked Earp is a one-dimensional punk and Denver John Phillips can't act to save his life.

Ultimately, Doc says more about its era than the real Wyatt Earp. By tearing down a legendary hero and abandoning comprehensible narrative, it epitomizes the shortcomings of '70s Westerns.

Saddle Up

2011-10-17T06:09:00.001-04:00

My past few reviews have been of Westerns, and this is no coincidence. I'm approaching 100 articles on my favorite genre, and because of my love of round numbers...

...I'll be undertaking a Western Round-Up to try and reach this formidable figure by the end of the year (if not sooner).

I don't want to make a checklist because I'm an impulsive viewer who selects the films I watch mostly at random. However, between TCM, Netflix, iTunes and my upcoming birthday there should be more than enough oaters to go around. Stay tuned.

Destry Rides Again

2011-10-16T21:19:00.004-04:00

Destry Rides Again (1939) is a charming old school Western. Director George Marshall deftly mixes comedy and drama, gags and characterization, and the result is a winner.

The Western town of Bottleneck is ruled by trigger-happy saloon owner Kent (Brian Donlevy) and saloon girl Frenchy (Marlene Dietrich), who connive in the murder of the town's honest Sheriff. Drunken wastrel Washington Dimsdale (Charlie Winninger) is appointed Sheriff; realizing he needs help, Dimsdale recruits Tom Destry (James Stewart), son of a legendary gunslinger and a famous lawman in his own right. Destry disappoints Bottleneck by proving a soft-spoken swell who doesn't even pack a gun, but his amiable way of settling disputes works better than a .45.

Westerns don't come much purer than Destry Rides Again. The witty script provides plenty of gags: a lengthy wrestling match between Frenchy and an angry hotel owner (Una Merkel) provides the biggest laughs, as does Merkel's running conflict with her husband (Mischa Auer), a Russian who can't get his wife to forget her ex. But it's also enjoyable as a simple, straightforward Western, a tale of an earnest Sheriff civilizing a rough frontier town - even if he does it by guile and charm rather than force. As with Shane, Destry's archetypical structure makes it all the more appealing.

George Marshall and his writers keep the film wonderfully balanced, a serious tone underpinning the jokes. The conceit of a pacifist lawman is a clever one, and Jimmy Stewart's fine performance makes it convincing. Only the finale proves disappointing: the idea of the townswomen breaking up a gun battle doesn't come off, and Destry decides to strap on his six-guns again. It's as if Marshall didn't know how else to end the film, or else decided to give Western fans their money's worth of lead.

James Stewart gives one of his most charming performances; you believe his quiet righteousness and his soft-spoken parables could disarm a town full of toughs. Marlene Dietrich sends up her own sexpot image with a wonderfully self-effacing turn, even making Frenchy's eleventh-hour conversion (almost) convincing. The supporting cast is a gem: Brian Donvely (Beau Geste) adds another despicable dastard to his resume and Charlie Winninger's Sheriff provides a surprisingly well-rounded character, while Una Merkel and Mischa Auer's not-so-happily married couple provide the film's biggest laughs.

Destry Rides Again is a Western of reference-level quality. It's a simple story, enjoyably told.

Fall in Behind the Major

2011-10-13T20:22:00.004-04:00

Courtesy of Tim O'Brien, friend, fellow-blogger and former second-in-command, I came across this awesome Major Dundee blog. For the eight or so of us who are die-hard fans of Major Dundee, this is a must-see.

It's possible I'll go see a theatrical release this weekend, or maybe I'll just stay home and watch old Westerns. I have Saturday off from work for the first time in six weeks so anything is possible.

Hour of the Gun

2011-10-11T22:01:00.004-04:00

For years I'd been looking forward to seeing Hour of the Gun (1967), John Sturges's revisionist take on the Wyatt Earp legend. Perhaps that's the reason why I found it a bit underwhelming.

After the infamous gunfight at the OK Corral, Tombstone lawmen Wyatt Earp (James Garner) and Doc Holiday (Jason Robards) are placed on trial for murder at the behest of Ike Clanton (Robert Ryan), Tombstone crime boss and Earp's business rival. After the Earps are acquitted, Clanton's henchmen cripple Wyatt's brother Virgil (Frank Converse) and kill Morgan (Sam Melville). Wyatt is appointed US Marshal and with a posse including Doc, tracks Clanton's gang throughout Arizona Territory and beyond, less resembling a manhunt than a vendetta.

John Sturges had previously directed Gunfight at the OK Corral (1957), perhaps the most unabashedly romantic Wyatt Earp film. Hour of the Gun functions as both a sequel and a rebuke to his earlier film: by starting the film with the infamous gunfight, the film becomes a study in moral ambiguity, culminating in Earp's murderous vendetta ride against the Cowboys.

Hour of the Gun is the first Earp film to move beyond frontier romanticism of My Darling Clementine. In this version, Earp and Clanton are merely opponents in a nasty turf war, representing competing political and economic interests. This Ike Clanton is a shrewd, callous businessman, willing to bend any rule or sacrifice anyone (even his brother) to further his ends. Wyatt Earp is painted in decidedly dark tones, no longer a good-hearted lawman but a vengeful killer who tricks and traps opponents into unfair duels. It doesn't go as far as Doc or Wyatt Earp in tearing Earp down, but Hour's measured revisionism makes for interesting viewing.

Unfortunately, Hour of the Gun is let down by some bogus dramaturgy. Edward Anhalt's long dialogue scenes and heavy use of interiors give the movie the feel and rhythm of a TV show. Lucien Ballard's outdoor photography is gorgeous but we don't see enough of it amidst all the talk. Wyatt's belated meeting with Eastern businessmen throws the narrative off-balance, and the final duel with Clanton is a damp squib. For a movie that boldly proclaims "this is the way it happened," it has several gaffes that fall into Public Enemies territory: altering history to something less interesting.

James Garner tones down his usual swagger, but his stoicism makes for one of the blander screen Earps. Jason Robards plays Doc Holiday with the perfect wistful melancholy, which he'd revive in Once Upon a Time in the West the following year. Robert Ryan (The Wild Bunch) gives an intelligent performance, making Ike a shrewd businessman rather than feral prairie scum. The supporting cast features some interesting names: Steven Ihnat (The Chase), Jorge Russek, Albert Salmi (The Bravados) and a young Jon Voight as Clanton's henchmen, Larry Gates (The Sand Pebbles) and Karl Swenson (Major Dundee) as townspeople.

Hour of the Gun was a probably a victim of my unreasonably-high expectations. It's a fine oater with an interesting take on the Wyatt Earp legend, but it's far from the best version of the story.

Gunga Din

2011-10-09T10:57:00.007-04:00

Gunga Din (1939) is one of Hollywood's classic adventure films. Even in a year that saw Beau Geste and The Four Feathers, Gunga Din manages to stand out for sheer enjoyability.

In 1880s India, the fanatical Guru (Eduardo Cianelli) leads an uprising of the Thugs, a murderous strangler cult bent on wiping out the Raj. This matters little to a trio of rowdy British Sergeants: treasure-seeking Cutter (Cary Grant), elephant-loving MacChesney (Victor McLaglen) and dashing Ballantine (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.). They're more concerned with Ballantine's impending marriage to Emmy (Joan Fontaine), daughter of a tea executive, and do everything they can to sabotage his plans. In search of a hoard of Indian gold, Cutter stumbles across a Hindu temple where the Guru is organizing his followers for an all-out attack. Ultimately it's up to Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe), a bhishti water-bearer who desperately wants to be a soldier, to save the day.

Gunga Din is pure fun from beginning to end, a silly boy's adventure film with no pretension of seriousness. Writers Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur reprise The Front Page's scenario of male professionals shunning female interference, with Ballantine proclaiming "I'm a man first!" to his befuddled fiancee. They might as well hang a "no girls allowed" sign outside the barracks. They're the cool kids on the playground, nice enough to let Gunga Din tag along but sticking it to dorky Sergeant Higgenbottom (Robert Coote). Unlike Beau Geste, there's no mawkish sentiment about the purity of brotherly love: our protagonists have no qualms about backstabbing, pranking and mocking one another when appropriate.

This fits in perfectly with the depiction of war as a fun game ("How can we get a nice little war going?") and the cartoonishly evil Thugs. The threat posed by the Thugs is deadly serious, but our heroes refuse to bow to its gravity. Fighting their way out of an ambush, the sergeants use pistols, pickaxes and dynamite with equal aplomb; at one point, Ballantine flattens a dozen Thugs with a single punch! My favorite scene has Cutter calmly striding into a Thug gathering as a "diversion" for Din. The film's dated elements are easy to overlook because it takes nothing at all seriously.

Ace director George Stevens (Shane) is at the top of his game, delivering an explosive thrill ride. The action scenes are exciting and impressive in staging, especially the expertly-choreographed finale. The film moves has a breakneck pace, mixing action with well-timed comedy sequences. Only a regimental ball in the mid-section goes on a bit long, though it has a funny payoff.

Perhaps Gunga Din's strongest vindication is its influence on later generations of action films: Kelly's Heroes and Three Kings lifted the treasure-hunting plot, while Steven Spielberg cavalierly grafted the Thugee elements onto his Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The Man Who Would Be King (also based on Rudyard Kipling) presented a more cynical take on the story, its duo of cocky Tommies carving out their own private empire in Central Asia. More generally, Stevens's mixture of exciting action and unflappable heroes remains a cornerstone of the genre.

Cary Grant, nearing the height of his stardom, gives the role his trademark mixture of effortless charm and humor. Victor McLaglen (The Informer) was never better and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. is appropriately dashing as the nominal straight man. The trio have great chemistry, giving the adventure a childish glee that's impossible to resist.

Sam Jaffe's amusing performance provides the emotional center. Jaffe portrays Din as a comic foil until the finale, where he becomes an unlikely hero, invested with dignity and pathos. If Cutter and Co. like him, he must be a swell guy. Joan Fontaine's (Rebecca) love interest is a throwaway role. Eduardo Cianelli (The Chase) makes a fearsome villain, an evil genius who incites his bloodthirsty followers to "Kill! Kill! KILL!!!" Abner Biberman (His Girl Friday), Montagu Love (The Adventures of Robin Hood) and Robert Coote (The Horse's Mouth) essay other roles.

Gunga Din is one of Hollywood's most purely entertaining adventures. Some elements mark it as a product of 1939, but its mixture of action, charm and irreverence remains irresistible.

RIP Steve Jobs

2011-10-05T22:39:00.002-04:00

Not overly film-related (though he does have an Executive Producer credit on Toy Story), but noteworthy nonetheless. If it weren't for this guy, I'd have to listen to the radio on my way to work - and that would be torture.

RIP to a true visionary.

Coogan's Bluff

2011-10-04T19:33:00.007-04:00

Coogan's Bluff (1968) was Clint Eastwood's first collaboration with director Don Siegel, and his first Stateside hit after the Dollars trilogy. A forgettable crime drama, today it's most interesting as a dry run for the far more successful Dirty Harry (1971).

Walt Coogan (Clint Eastwood) is a renegade Arizona cop who plays by his own rules. He's sent to New York City to extradite a criminal (Don Stroud), only to find his job complicated by a condescending New York policeman (Lee J. Cobb), a feminist parole officer (Susan Clark) and everything bad about John Lindsey's New York: hippies, hoboes and hookers. Things go from bad to worse when Stroud escapes from custody, forcing Coogan to embark on a gruelling investigation in the Big Apple.

From 1967 to 1971, Clint Eastwood desperately tried to parlay his success in Sergio Leone's Spaghetti Westerns to Hollywood stardom. His early Americans films, for this reviewer at least, aren't a pretty sight: the turgid faux-Leone Westerns Hang 'Em High and Two Mules for Sister Sara, the underwhelming Guns of Navarone rehash Where Eagles Dare. And that's not even mentioning Paint Your Wagon. It wasn't until Dirty Harry that Eastwood shed his Italian baggage, cementing his iconic status and opening the door to a long and fruitful career.

Coogan's Bluff is another exercise in dues-paying. Herman Miller's sophomoric script milks the fish out of water premise for all it's worth, placing a naive cowboy in the midst of big city crime and counterculture. The film stridently posits Coogan as the righteous antithesis to late '60s hedonism, and his misadventures in Liberal Land overwhelm the paper-thin plot. Siegel stages a few neat scenes (a tense opening spoofing For a Few Dollars More, a nasty barroom brawl), only to end the film with a goofy motorcycle chase and a mixed message finale.

Clint is an assured screen presence as always, but Coogan is probably his most unlikeable character, a mean, racist womanizer who unwittingly embodies everything negative about the cowboy stereotype. It's hard to garner much sympathy for him no matter how many jerk cabbies tell him off. Lee J. Cobb (On the Waterfront) is wasted as a snobbish NYC detective and Don Stroud makes a boring villain. The female characters don't speak well for Eastwood and Siegel's worldview, least of all Susan Clark, a "feminist" who's secretly waiting to be ravished by Clint. The supporting cast includes a few gems: Betty Field (7 Women), James Edwards (The Set-Up), Tom Tully (The Caine Mutiny), Seymour Cassel (Convoy).

Coogan's Bluff is for confirmed Clint Eastwood fans only. Clint was still a long way from refining his persona, and this early effort is best left forgotten as a relic of its time.

Moneyball

2011-10-01T20:04:00.003-04:00

Moneyball tries very hard to turn Michael Lewis's stat-wonky baseball book into a movie, but doesn't quite succeed. It's an interesting story, but with a script packed with cheap dramatics and awkward storytelling, it makes for a middling film.

The 2001 Oakland Athletics make it to the second round of the AL playoffs, only to lose to the New York Yankees. Oakland loses several of its key players in the off-season, and GM Billy Beane (Brad Pitt): his team's payroll is only a fraction of big-market teams. Along with Yale graduate Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), Beane organizes a team based on statistical abilities rather than hitting or starpower. At first Beane and Brand meet resistance and ridicule, but as the 2002 season goes along they seem vindicated, the A's putting together a 20 game win streak and running deep into the playoffs.

Moneyball is dramatically flat. Baseball writers and sports-savvy critics have critiqued the film's inaccuracies (here is a good example) and I'll defer to their judgment. Factuality aside, I found it hard to accept the premise that sabremetrics making the A's marginally better makes for a great underdog story. Beane's methods were employed elsewhere in baseball to great affect: more well-honed statistical analysis swept away old-fashioned, often silly methods of talent scouting (juding a player's face?) and led many teams to success, including the 2004 Boston Red Sox. But as other teams utilized the concept, its impact arguably became watered down: witness Oakland's mediocre performance last season. Moneyball tries to turn a business concept into a film, with decidedly mixed results.

The film underwent a troubled production, changing hands from Steven Soderbergh to Bennett Miller (Capote), with Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zailland (Schindler's List) taking stabs at the script. This likely accounts for the slipshod narrative and facile dramatic elements: a subplot with Beane, his daughter (Kerris Dorsey) and ex-wife (Robin Wright) feels tacked on for cheap pathos, and flashbacks of Beane's playing career are awkwardly inserted into the story. There's some snappy Sorkin dialogue but nothing especially memorable, and character development (aside from Beane) is rote. Miller's direction is competent, making liberal use of archival footage and employing some striking visual motifs (the recurring empty stadium is nice), but can't overcome the dramatic shortcomings.

Brad Pitt is the glue that holds the film together. Pitt owns the film with a quiet, self-effacing performance, perfectly catching Beane's mixture of cocky ambition and brooding frustration. Pitt's co-stars don't really register. Jonah Hill is good in a restrained performance, but Philip Seymour Hoffman (Charlie Wilson's War) is wasted and Robin Wright (The Conspirator) has a glorified cameo.

Moneyball is an interesting business concept that doesn't translate to a movie. Frankly, who cares if sabermetrics helped the Oakland A's won one more game in 2002?

The Servant

2011-09-26T21:33:00.004-04:00

A uniquely dark and disquieting film, Joseph Losey's The Servant (1963) is a must-see. This movie's warped take on class structure and personal dominance makes Stanley Kubrick look like Frank Capra.

Tony (James Fox), a wealthy young dilettante, hires Hugo Barrett (Dirk Bogarde) as his manservant. With a well-credentialed CV and a mild, uncomplaining manner, Hugo seems an ideal servant at first. But Tony's girlfriend Susan (Wendy Craig) senses something amiss, suspecting Hugo's civil demeanor hides something more disturbing. When Hugo's sultry "sister" Vera (Sarah Miles) arrives, it becomes clear that Hugo is playing a twisted mind game with his master.

The Servant remains a seminal title in British cinema. From "angry young man" films like The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner to social dramas like Sapphire and Victim, British films in the early '60s viciously assaulted the lingering class structure, postwar destitution and social mores. Adapted from Robert Maugham's novel by playright Harold Pinter, The Servant goes a step further, depicting British society (and human nature generally) as rotten to the core.

The Servant begs for analysis, but its caustic view of humanity is plainly evident. Tony seems a likeable dimwit at first, nursing dreams of a business deal in Brazil, but his engrained snobbery marks him as both narcissistic and naive - fair game for the vicious Hugo, more appealing than the likeable but plain Susan. Hugo and Vera are a perverse embodiment of the new generation, using raw sexuality to destroy the accepted order, bringing Tony down and loving it. Losey and Pinter make Hugo not so much an avenging lower class angel as a moral vampire, spreading decadence and decay wherever he goes.

Joseph Losey's (King and Country) direction, all brooding deep focus photography and cramped sets, creates the perfect air of tawdriness. John Dankworth's score makes excellent use of a Cleo Laine tune, warping from a sweet love ballad to a marker of moral degeneracy. The movie takes an odd turn in the final half-hour, with the increasingly dissolute Tony and Hugo wallowing in figurative filth. The perversity of these final scenes strikes a thematic chord but is dramatically awkward, Susan's actions in particular coming out of left field. Nonetheless, it's hard to imagine a more appropriate ending.

This is Dirk Bogarde's signature performance. Bogarde provides the right mixture of obsequious charm and warped decadence, making Hugo a uniquely loathsome personage. James Fox (A Passage to India) makes a perfect patsy to Hugo's scheming. Sarah Miles (Ryan's Daughter) is incredibly sultry, featuring in one of the steamiest seduction scenes in film history. Wendy Craig does well with a difficult role, the straight woman in a cast of warped characters. Patrick Macnee (Zulu) appears in a bit part.

The Servant makes for rather disturbing viewing. With its tawdry characters and bleak atmosphere, it's not an easy watch, yet it remains perversely fascinating.

The League of Gentlemen

2011-09-25T11:33:00.005-04:00

Basil Dearden's The League of Gentlemen (1960) is an excellent film. Dearden mixes an enjoyable crime story with a subversive edge.

Colonel J.G.H. Hyde (Jack Hawkins) has recently been drummed out of the British Army, and decides to get his own back by organizing a bank robbery. He recruits several fellow veterans for the job: Race (Nigel Patrick), a cultured cynic and black marketeer; Lexy (Richard Attenborough), an ace radiographer; Rupert (Terence Alexander), a sad sack cuckolded by his materialstic wife; Mycroft (Roger Livesley), a pornographer turned priest; Porthill (Bryan Hill), drummed out for an apparent war crime on Cyprus; Stevens (Kieron Moore), an outed homosexual; and Weaver (Norman Bird), an explosive expert. Hyde believes that the authorities will be no match for the ex-soldiers, and indeed their planning and heist seem to succeed brilliantly. Unfortunately, the devil is in the details.

The League of Gentlemen is a cracking heist film that gets everything right. British entries in the genre (The Day They Robbed the Bank of England, The Lavender Hill Mob) generally rely on cunning rather than the violence of American counterparts, and this film is no exception. A preliminary heist to steal arms from an army depot (shades of The Dirty Dozen?) is pulled off through bluff and cunning, our protagonists easily outwitting gormless garrison troops. Bryan Forbes's script provides its share of droll humor, with careful, inventive plotting: the heist goes off without a hitch, and things unravel in a clever and unexpected way.

League is also noteworthy for its edgy content. The opening, of Hyde creeping out from a manhole into a Rolls-Royce, sets the subversive tone. The story is a damning indictment of post-war England: its military heroes have been forgotten or deliberately cast off, forced into menial jobs in an impersonal welfare state. There is overt sexual inneundo in characters' dealings with women, and Hyde gets a big laugh with a surprising profanity. Stevens is openly homosexual, subject to slurs from his colleagues and blackmail from criminals. (Dearden built upon this in his next film, Victim.) 1960 audiences must have been jolted.

Jack Hawkins is ideally cast, subverting a career's worth of military roles (Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia) in a stroke. Droll Nigel Patrick (The Sound Barrier) and chummy Richard Attenborough (10 Rillington Place) provide a perfect foil to Hawkins's professionalism. Terence Alexander (The Day of the Jackal), Norman Bird, Bryan Forbes (The Guns of Navarone), Kieron Moore (The Day They Robbed the Bank of England) and an antiquated Roger Livesley (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp) play other members of the team. Attentive viewers can spy Nigel Green (Zulu) and Oliver Reed (Lion of the Desert) in early roles.

The League of Gentlemen has just about everything you'd want from a heist film. Its clever plotting and edgy thematic material make it among the genre's best.

Drive

2011-09-24T15:59:00.003-04:00

Drive is the best movie I've seen in theaters since True Grit. There's probably some deep existential meaning to it all, but I just enjoyed it as a stylish, superbly crafted action film.

The Driver (Ryan Gosling) is a garage mechanic and part-time stunt man who serves as the getaway driver for some small-time hoods. Shortly thereafter, his boss Shannon (Bryan Cranston) gets him mixed up with film producer/crime boss Bernie (Albert Brooks), who wants to sponsor him as a stock car driver. The plot thickens when the Driver gets involved with his neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan), whose husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) was just released from prison. To held Standard escape a loan shark's wrath, Driver agrees to take part in a $1 million heist, which lands him in deep trouble with Bernie and his underboss Izzi (Ron Perlman).

Drive is a first-class production all around. Nicholas Wending Refn makes a unique-looking film, from the moody urban mis-en-scene to the expressive editing scheme, with its slow-burn dissolves and non-linear sequencing. Refn stages impressive set pieces, especially the curtain-raising getaway drive and an exciting chase scene halfway through, and some unexpectedly graphic violence gives the action a real kick. Occasional artistic ostentation - a groan-inducing scene where a bemasked Driver walks slow-motion into a carefully framed window comes to mind - does not detract from Refn's superb direction.

What really sets Drive above its peers, however, is Hossein Amini's script. Elliptical in plot and character motivations, it smartly transcends cliche by building on familiar material. The well-drawn ensemble cast helps immensely: the Driver-Irene romance is sweet and avoids a cliched love triangle. Characters are largely drawn by relationships: Irene's affection for her husband and son and attraction to the Driver; Bernie and Izzi's tense partnership; Shannon's pathetic toadying. A leisurely pace immerses the viewer in the story, a welcome change from fast-cutting shakycam blockbusters. The climax feels a bit rushed but the ambiguous ending is a perfect coda.

Ryan Gosling gives a knockout performance. In Gosling's hands, the Driver becomes a fascinating protagonist, a deconstruction of the standard Hollywood action hero. He's likeable enough in his early scenes with Irene, but his effortless transition into a vengeful murderer is chilling. Gosling's controlled, monosyllabic performance makes both sides of his character credible: a character so emotionless and nonexpressive could be hiding anything. It's been a big year for Gosling, and this film should catapult him into the top tier of Hollywood stardom.

Gosling is backed by an interesting supporting cast. Albert Brooks steals the show as the psycho crime boss with a knife fetish, quite a turnabout from his usual comedy roles. Carey Mulligan (Public Enemies) is sweet and quietly vulnerable. Oscar Isaac (Robin Hood) handles a difficult role with sensitivity: he avoids the temptation to make Standard a cranky cuckold or a sad sack. TV favorites Brian Cranston (Breaking Bad), Ron Perlman (Sons of Anarchy) and Christina Hendricks (Mad Men) feature in key supporting roles.

Drive is an excellent film all around. If nothing else, this and The Debt prove that an action movie doesn't need lots of CGI robots or explosions to be fun.

Up Next: Shia LaBeouf as Abraham Lincoln!

2011-09-21T20:59:00.005-04:00

In this post last week, I said that Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar might be my most anticipated film of the fall. To be fair though, I'd also said that I was waiting for the trailer before making a judgment.

Well, here's the trailer... and it's not pretty:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vD99zwj-ZUg

I like Leonardo DiCaprio well-enough as an actor but he just seems wrong for this part. His attempts at imitating Hoover's voice and mannerisms come off as phony, like, well, Leo DiCaprio doing a Hoover impression. The phony looking old-age makeup doesn't help either.

Of course, it's possible that his actual performance, in context, will be great. After all, Anthony Hopkins didn't look or sound anything like Richard Nixon but he gave a brilliant portrayal of Tricky Dick. But on the other hand, isn't a trailer supposed to make you want to see a movie? Color me skeptical.

This weekend I'll be seeing either Drive or Moneyball, depending on what my mood. I'm assuming neither of them won't have a big star badly miscast as an iconic historical figure. You can also expect a few classic reviews in the near-future if time permits.

The Maltese Falcon

2011-09-18T15:54:00.005-04:00

It's always hard to review an undisputed masterpiece, and The Maltese Falcon (1941) is no different. What can be said except it lives up to its reputation?

Hardboiled San Francisco detective Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) gets approached by a mysterious Ms. Wonderlay (Mary Astor) seeking to save her sister from a jilted lover. This seemingly routine case results in the death of Spade's partner Archer (Jerome Cowan), ensnaring Spade in a complicated treasure hunt. Turns out Wonderlay is really Brigid O'Shaughnessy, an associate of bumbling crook Kaspar Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet), who's obsessively pursuing the legendary Maltese Falcon - a jewel-encrusted statue of 16th Century vintage.

The prototypical film noir, The Maltese Falcon had a number of strikes against it. It's the third adaptation of Dashiel Hammet's novel, after a mediocre 1931 version and a forgettable comedy with Bette Davis. Big Warner Brothers star George Raft passed on the lead, resulting in seedy screen gangster Humphrey Bogart's casting as Sam Spade. Finally, of course, it was helmed by John Huston, an ace screenwriter (Juarez, Sergeant York) but directorally green. Despite all of this, Falcon is near-perfect in execution, with all the right elements - perfect cast, skilled director, surprisingly edgy content - coming together for a masterpiece.

Perhaps because of its B-picture origins, Falcon breaks the studio mould in every way. Sam Spade is lowliest of cads, a self-serving creep who has no compunction about bossing around thugs ("When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it"), cheating his partner (he's carrying on with Archer's wife (Gladys George)) and abusing women. Brigid sets the standard for a half-century of femme fatales, willing to lie, bed and kill unsuspecting men to pursue her goals. The villains are portrayed as barely-coded homosexuals, with Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) toting a scented handkerchief and chewing on the nob of his cane. There's only the faintest whif of a romance and comic relief is incidental: the story is resolutely blunt and straightforward without the expected Hollywood frills.

Falcon is one of the greatest directoral debuts ever, with John Huston showing a natural talent that served him for nearly fifty years. Arthur Edeson's oppressively black-and-white photography and Thomas Richards's expressionist montages create an appropriately seedy, foreboding atmosphere. Huston's script is the perfect mixture of clipped dialogue and brisk story structure: long, involved dialogue scenes fly by, allowing Robert M. Haas's cramped sets to take on a life of their own.

Humphrey Bogart easily shrugged off his two-bit hood persona to become one of Hollywood's greatest icons: cynical, selfish, violent, yet with some scruples underneath. Bogart's rough around the edges charm is perfect for Spade, making him a complete jerk yet perversely likeable. It's a treat to watch Spade constantly outwitting dumb cops, fast broads and tough criminals, a master poker player in all situations. Bogart's had more complex roles but he was never better.

The supporting cast is no less impressive. Mary Astor (Act of Violence) is appropriately sensual, delicate and tough at turns, giving only the faintest hint of the conniving schemer within. Deceptively suave Sydney Greenstreet and effeminate Peter Lorre make iconic villains: both would reteam with Bogart in Casablanca. Lee Patrick (Vertigo) is wonderful as Spade's tough-as-nails secretary. Elisha Cook Jr. (Shane) gets an early role as Gutman's wimpy henchman, and Barton MacLane and (who else?) Ward Bond play the cops harrassing Spade.

The Maltese Falcon is simply one of the greats. There's only so much you can say about a film with seventy years of critical plaudits, and it speaks for itself anyway.

Coming Attractions - Fall 2011

2011-09-15T20:32:00.009-04:00

Well, another lousy summer movie season has passed us by. Now it's the fall, time for a barrage of adult films and year-end Oscar bait.

One of the advantages of having a full-time job is having a lot of money, even if I don't have much free time. This means more time for moviegoing, and the next few months look fairly promising. My only regret is that I'll have less time for classic movies, but after college you can't have everything.

Having already been wowed by The Debt, I decided to preview upcoming releases from now to the end of the year. I definitely won't get to see all of these movies, but it's a good starting point. This will provide me with a guide for future moviegoing - and perhaps will help you find something to watch. If it's not listed, chances are I'm not interested.

Must-See:

I'll definitely see these films provided they're showing in my area and I have time. Money shouldn't be a problem, at least not until student loans rear their ugly head.

Drive (September 16th) - This goes into wide release this weekend, and good buzz and a kickass trailer makes it likely I'll be seeing this either tomorrow or Saturday. Looks like a blast.

J. Edgar (November 9th) - While I'm leery about Leonardo DiCaprio as the title character (better Hoover than Teddy Roosevelt, I guess), J. Edgar Hoover was long overdue for a biopic and Clint Eastwood is an interesting choice to direct. Early hints indicate the film will treat his sexuality tastefully, which is nice. Besides, there's such an interesting swath of American history to be covered - the Palmer Raids, the Dillinger era, World War II, the Red Scare and the Civil Rights Movement - that it seems like a slam dunk. I'm waiting for the trailer, but right now this might be my most eagerly anticipated film of the fall.

Moneyball (September 23rd) - I was waffling on this film, which looked modestly interesting but nothing spectacular. Then I heard it would (like the book it's based on) focus on the business end of running a baseball team, and I got interested. Then I saw Aaron Sorkin was co-writing it and all doubt vanished. Count me in.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (December 9th) - admittedly, I wasn't crazy about the '70s miniseries, Alec Guinness notwithstanding. So you won't hear me complain about this "re-imagining" of the John Le Carre novel, which looks like a taut, cerebral thriller without the TV series' bugetary constraints. With a cast that includes Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, Tom Hardy, Marc Strong, Ciaran Hinds and Benedict Cumberbatch, it seems like a can't-miss proposition.

War Horse (December 28th) - Steven Spielberg usually does period dramas well, and the story seems to have the right mixture of childhood whimsy and gravitas. Plus, how often do you see World War I films these days?

Possible Viewings:

Besides the above films, there are plenty of movies that I might see if I need a night out and aren't too picky, or if a trailer, TV spot or critical buzz impresses me.

The Adventures of Tintin (December 23rd) - a motion capture animated film based on a much-beloved children's book series, with Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson involved? Could be cool, could be a complete flop. I'll wait for the reviews.

Anonymous (October 28th) - a thriller based on the Shakespeare authorship controversy doesn't seem like a bad idea, and the cast list is promising. And I'm always up for a Tudor film, no matter how dire. On the other hand, it's a Roland Emmerich film.

Contagion (September 9th) - Steven Soderbergh's latest effort looks like Outbreak meets Traffic. Soderbergh's usually interesting, but the trailers are underwhelming and the story's been done many times before. I'm skeptical, good critical reviews notwithstanding.

A Dangerous Method (November 30th) - not a big Cronenberg fan, and the presence of Keira Knightley is never encouraging. Still, the story sounds interesting, so we'll keep it in mind.

The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo (December 21st) - I've never read the books or seen the Swedish films. I've only seen Rooney Mara in The Social Network (where she was good in a small role) and am indifferent towards David Fincher. If I see this movie, it will be more to see what all the fuss is about.

The Ides of March (October 7th) - looks like a) a potentially interesting political thriller, and b) blatant Oscar bait. Ryan Gosling gets another meaty role, George Clooney gets to strut like a liberal peacock and I'm left wondering if it's worthwhile.

The Iron Lady (December 16th) - Meryl Streep as Maggie Thatcher is interesting casting, but I'm not sure how interested I am in another end-of-year British period piece/acting showcase. We'll see.

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (December 21st) - When did Hollywood pass a law that Tom Wilkinson must be in everything released?

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (December 16th) - the original was a decent time waster, even if it didn't have much to do with the literary Holmes. I expect the sequel will be the same.

Morbid Curiosity:

Occasionally, when I'm really bored and hating myself, I give into morbid curiosity and see films that can't possibly be good. Inevitably, I'm left wondering why I wasted $10 and two hours on cinematic self-flagellation. At best, it provdes fodder for a really juicy review - see my rants on Twilight and W. At worst it provokes deep, existential questions like: What the hell was I thinking?

There are two films that fit the bill this fall, and not surprisingly they're remakes. Let's hope I can resist the temptation with these...

Footloose (October 14th) - let's face facts: the original Footloose is no classic. It's an enjoyable bit of '80s kitsch, nothing more or less. Still, the story was already on thin credibility ice in 1984 and could only seem that much more ridiculous today. I was mildly interested when I'd heard it was based on the stage musical; instead it looks like a straight remake of the original with street dancing and CGI thrown in. Still, high school nostalgia might weigh in over common sense.

Straw Dogs (September 16th) - the original Straw Dogs is a classic, so there's no reason for it to be remade. Everything about the trailer screams stupid: the liberal nebbish fleeing the violence of Vietnam-era America for the seemingly idyllic Old World becomes the tale of a Hollywood screenwriter (!) retreating to the Deep South (!!) for peace and quiet (!!!). Gee, a tale of violent rednecks ganging up an outsider: How original!

No Way In Hell:

That's all for now. Good hunting, fellow cinephiles!

Ten Years Later

2011-09-11T20:39:00.002-04:00

I usually try and avoid writing things not related to film, but I feel the 10th anniversary of my generation's formative event warrants a brief post.

I was about 12 years old on 9/11/2001, and had just started junior high school. I was extremely smart and very misanthropic at the time, with a big IQ and a bigger ego. For me, global events were something of passing interest but completely distant. Politics was a complicated game adults played with no affect on me. Wars were Clinton's push-button conflicts in Kosovo and Iraq. I had heard of Osama Bin Laden and Afghanistan, but they were names from a History Channel special, nothing more. And certainly I didn't understand economic issues more than I do now. It just seemed so distant, something that wouldn't affect me, my family or friends. Certainly not in rural Pennsylvania, where nothing ever happened.

On that morning, I walked into Mrs. Nemanic's science class. As we were getting ready to start, a kid came in yelling that "Some psycho flew a plane into the Twin Towers!" The words sent a shock through the tweens gathered in the dinky science room. Mrs. Nemanic grinned indulgently and told him something like, "That didn't happen. If it did, it would be all over television." Then she turned on the television. I don't need to tell you what we saw.

Even as I looked at the images of the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, it still seemed distant, however shocking. I was more confused than scared at that point. This was happening in New York and D.C., not here. Then I heard that a plane had gone down "just outside Pittsburgh." Which scared the bejesus out of me. Turns out that Flight 93 went down just 15 miles from our school. The world had come to Somerset.

The rest of the day was a blur. We spent some time huddled in the school cafeteria with cops around, in case al-Qaeda were making their way to Somerset Junior High. When it was determined safe they sent us home early, and my brothers and I came home to find my dad test-firing all of his firearms in the backyard. I remember receiving phone calls by various relatives and getting Papa John's pizza for dinner, watching Channel Six all day for news updates. It was a blur of names and places and figures: George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, Osama Bin Laden and so many others. I went to bed realizing I'd survived a historic day, but too young to make anything of it.

I was too young to appreciate the magnitude of what had just happened. When President Bush gave his speech to Congress a few days later, I was bored. The 9/11 memorial on Friday did draw some emotion out of me, hearing so many patriotic songs, hearing addresses from Governor Ridge and our church chaplain Father Mark, but mostly I wanted to get home and listen to Ennio Morricone music. To be a narcissistic, insular child again!

Ten years have passed and so much has changed. We're still fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq, and a new war rages in Libya. The economy has collapsed and our new President struggles to pick up the pieces of Bush's disastrous second term. As I've gotten older, I've tried to hone my interest in current affairs, but our increasingly toxic political climate disgusts me to no end. Disgust at partisan bickering aside, however, I never unlearned my key lesson from 9/11: that what happens in the world is of vital importance, whether it's in the mountains of Afghanistan or just down the street from your house. Thus, better to interact with and learn about it than to push it away and pretend it doesn't it.

While watching all the memorial tributes this weekend, I felt a stirring of the heart. Patriotism, sure, but something more profound than that. I feel for the 3,000 people, Americans and others, killed by hideous fanatics, and their families and friends. I feel for the lost optimism of a prosperous country just entering a new millenium. And most of all, I hope that we, as a country, can move on while not forgetting the attacks, the victims or their importance to all of us.

Back to regular posting soon.

RIP Cliff Robertson

2011-09-10T22:42:00.002-04:00

Another classic Hollywood star passed away today: Cliff Robertson died just a day after his 88th birthday.

Robertson was a fine actor who got an Oscar for Charly and his share of showy roles, but never became a huge star. I'll probably always remember him for his villainous CIA Agent in Three Days of the Condor, and his portrayal of Cole Younger in The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid made that otherwise turgid film watchable. His role as Uncle Ben in the Spider-Man films had a nice Obi-Wan Kenobi effect, introducing him to a new generation of fans. And fortunately, he wasn't as cranky about it as Alec Guinness.

RIP Cliff. You'll be missed.

The Debt

2011-09-10T13:10:00.005-04:00

After four months of banal summer fluff, it's nice to see a movie for grown-ups. The Debt (2011) is an enjoyable, intelligent spy thriller with an interesting message. If it weren't for the clunky ending, it might be the best film of 2011 (so far).

In 1967, a trio of Mossad agents - Rachel (Jessica Chastain), David (Sam Worthington) and Stefan (Marton Csokas) - carry out a daring mission into East Berlin to kidnap Nazi war criminal Dieter Vogel (Jesper Christiensen). The mission doesn't go quite according to plan, but Rachel manages to kill Vogel and the three come home as heroes. Thirty years later, the publication of a book by Rachel's (Helen Mirren) daughter (Romi Aboulafia) leads an elderly Ukranian man to claim that he is Vogel - forcing Rachel to face a secret from her past.

The Debt is an unusually smart spy film, telling a good story without losing credibility. The Mossad protagonists aren't the super-efficient (if troubled) heroes of Munich, but inept amateurs whose convoluted plan goes awry. The richly drawn characters help a lot: the love triangle that develops is tastefully handled, and Vogel is given a human side to balance out his evil nature. The second half of the film, with the protagonists perpetuating a face-saving lie that echoes down through the decades, provides some disquieting food for thought. How much of any country's national myth is built on convenient, self-aggrandizing falsehoods?

The 1960s scenes are brilliant: well-acted, cleverly plotted and gripping, the flashbacks make for engrossing viewing. The modern day scenes are servicable but suffer in comparison: the trio's future relationships are hinted at, but we don't learn enough about the intervening thirty years to make their older incarnations compelling. Then there's the contrived ending, which tries too hard to mix an intellectual message with a crowd-pleasing climax.

John Madden's direction is assured without being flashy, his crisp staging of key scenes (especially a railyard shootout) and Ben Davis's photography the perfect air of tension. The film is carefully crafted, with the flashbacks and modern scenes complementing each other perfectly.

Jessica Chastain is having a breakout year, with roles in this film, Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life and The Help. She's just about perfect here, a wonderful mixture of vulnerability, toughness and doubt. Sam Worthington (Avatar) scores with a quietly intense performance and Marton Csokas (Lord of the Rings) is perfect. Jesper Christiensen (Quantum of Solace) gives a wonderfully complex performance, making Vogel a very human monster. Helen Mirren makes the most of her limited role, but Tom Wilkinson (Valkyrie) and Ciaran Hinds (Munich) are wasted.

The Debt is a solid spy thriller. Despite its flawed conclusion, it remains a smart, thought-provoking film.

The Far Country

2011-09-06T20:07:00.010-04:00

The Far Country (1954) runs a very close second to The Man from Laramie as the best Anthony Mann-James Stewart collaboration. An exceedingly cynical Western, it casts a decidedly harsh light on the genre's cult of individuality.

Cattleman Jeff Webster (James Stewart) narrowly survives a mutiny while taking his herd to Seattle. Accused of murder, he and sidekicks Ben (Walter Brennan) and Rube (Jay C. Flippen) hightail it to Alaska, then in the midst of the Yukon Gold Rush. Arriving in the boom town of Skagway, Webster finds it the private fiefdom of self-appointed lawman Gannon (John McIntire), who shakes Ben down for his cattle and threatens to hang him. Webster escapes into Canada with his herd, only to find Gannon setting up shop in Dawson, ready to corrupt a whole new country.

The Far Country boldly subverts the Western archetype of the loner-gunfighter. Jeff's self-reliance, so admirable in other oaters, comes off as petty and callous: Jeff ignores Gannon's cruelty except where it concerns him, and in one scene coldly watches his erstwhile friends get buried under an avalanche. Living outside the law suits him, as when he steals back his own herd from Gannon at gunpoint. With his distrust of others, resentment of "government" interference and dreams of hitting it big, Jeff seems more like an Old West entrepeneur than a gunfighter-hero.

Indeed, Mann plays the story as a vicious critique of capitalism. Alaska and the Yukon exemplify social Darwinism in action: the honest prospectors are no match for the wicked Gannon and greedy saloon madam Rhonda (Ruth Roman), who corner commodities, swindle through means fair and foul, hornswaggle rubes and employ brute force when necessary. With the land undeveloped and respectable authority beyond reach, Gannon runs the Yukon like a Mob boss.

The film softpedals its message towards the end. Jeff is pushed too far, Ronda has a change of heart and the finale becomes a predictable (if well-staged) good versus bad showdown. Writer Borden Chase hammers the theme home, making sure we know that sticking up for your fellow man is the right thing to do. It rings false, and we wonder if the studio (or Jimmy Stewart himself) had a hand in neutering a heretofore bleak film.

Even so, The Far Country's nastiness still bleeds through. Later films took this concept even further: John Wayne's Ethan Edwards used solitude to mask psychotic racism, Paul Newman's Hombre unloaded buckshot into an unarmed man's back, and Clint Eastwood made a whole career playing lone gunmen of doubtful virtue. Qualified though it is, Mann's cynicism is far ahead of the Western curve.

Mann can always be relied on for a beautiful film. William H. Daniels captures some striking Canadian locations, the frost-bitten Yukon and Alaska Territories providing a unique Western locale. Borden Chase's script is well-crafted and biting, making a sprawling story and large cast of characters engrossing.

James Stewart did his best work in Westerns, and The Far Country is another solid performance. Until his change of heart, Jeff makes a fine match for Stewart's equally amoral protagonist in Two Rode Together. Gorgeous Ruth Roman (Strangers on a Train) makes such a wonderful femme fatale that her eleventh hour redemption seems phony. Corinne Calvet (What Price Glory?) is cute, but her character is so slight we'd rather Jeff end up with Roman. A galaxy of Western character actors populate the supporting cast: Walter Brennan (Rio Bravo) as a crusty sidekick, Robert Wilkie (High Noon) and Jack Elam (Once Upon a Time in the West) as Gannon's thugs, Royal Dano (Man of the West) and Harry Morgan (The Shootist) as prospectors.

The show-stealer, however, is John McIntire (Elmer Gantry). Usually relegated to memorable bit parts, McIntire makes Gannon one of the all-time great Western villains. An embodiment of unbridled capitalism, Gannon is a perverse mixture of sleazy charm ("I'm going to hang you, but I'm going to like you!"), piratical opportunism and brute sadism. Knowingly evil characters are tough to make convincing, but McIntire nails it better than anyone this side of James Mason in Lord Jim.

The Far Country is another great Western from Anthony Mann. Aside from the openly pro-Indian Devil's Doorway, it might be his most provocative oater, crowd-pleasing finale or no. It's certainly among his two or three best.

Anne V. Coates Interview

2011-09-05T09:25:00.004-04:00

Trevor Hogg of Flickering has a superlative interview of that legendary editor, Anne V. Coates, up on their site.

Happy Labor Day to my American readers! Coming soon are reviews of Traffic and The Far Country. Possibly even another article if I have the time/energy.

Lion of the Desert

2011-09-04T17:56:00.004-04:00

Lion of the Desert (1981) is an extraordinary film. Moustapha Akkad's smart historical epic is a fine celebration of a country's struggle for independence, a depiction of imperial cruelty and a first-rate war epic.

In 1912, Italy, a late-comer to the Scramble for Africa, invades Libya, overwhelming the weak Turkish client state and establishing authoritarian rule. Twenty years later, however, armed resistance led by teacher-turned-guerilla Omar Mukhtar (Anthony Quinn) lingers on. Benito Mussolini's (Rod Steiger) Fascist regime sends in the ruthless General Rodolfo Graziani (Omar Reed) to crush Mukhtar once and for all. Despite Graziani's technological advantage and incredibly brutal tactics - concentration camps, decimation and use of poison gas - Mukhtar refuses to submit.

Lion of the Desert was probably doomed for failure. Made at a hefty price of $35 million, it sank like a stone at the box office. A movie with a Muslim protagonist could not be well-received two years after the Iran Hostage Crisis, and the fact that Muammar Gaddafi, at the height of his America-hating, terrorist-sponsoring phase, funded the film surely didn't help. (Indeed, the film was banned in Italy until 2009.) This is a shame, as Lion's refreshing take on the Middle East is definitely worthwhile.

Lion in the Desert serves as a strong corrective to Hollywood Orientalism. The first shots of Libya are of beautifully verdant countryside, not the foreboding desert, and the depiction of Libyan families at play provides an unusually human portrait of Arab culture. Mukhtar's religion is emphasized, so we know he's not just a nationalist hero but a Muslim one. No doubt the film's portrayal of Mukhtar is one-sided and idealized - he refuses to execute prisoners or attack Italian civilians - but this shouldn't bother any but the most reactionary viewers.

Hollywood typically depicts Fascist Italy as Hitler's bumbling sidekick but Lion of the Desert shows them as evil enough on their own. The megalomaniacal Mussolini fancies himself a new Caesar with ambitions far in excess of his competence. Italy's justification is laughably based on Ancient Rome's regional dominion and they have no qualm with using extreme tactics. Men and children go to concentration camps, rebels are sprayed with mustard gas, the country is threaded with a "Hadrian's Wall" of barbed wire, and in a particularly gruesome scene, Italian tanks crush wounded rebels. An interesting sequence has Graziani arranging a peace conference with Mukhtar that he knows will fail, giving him time to strengthen his forces.

To be fair, Akkad doesn't demonize the Italian people: Raf Vallone's diplomatic Colonel and Stefano Petrizi's hero-turned-conscientious objector show that good men existed under Fascism. Even Graziani is shown as a human character who respects Mukhtar and regrets his fate. But Italy's atrocities speak for themselves, belying Italian notions of "civilizing" Libya. It's one of the most searing indictments of imperialism outside of Gillo Pontecorvo's Battle of Algiers and Burn!

Moustapha Akkad (killed in a 2005 terrorist attack) is best-remembered for producing the Halloween films, but he'd previously directed Anthony Quinn in the sensitive Mohammed, Messenger of God (1977). He mixes beautiful Libyan landscapes and period detail with battle scenes that are both exciting and viscerally brutal. A rebel stand at a desert village, and a huge set-piece ambush near a bridge, are really impressive, Akkad using thousands of extras, horses and period vehicle for exhilarating spectacle. H.A.L. Craig's script is thematically on the nose, but the story structure and characterizations are sound. There's also a superlative score by Maurice Jarre that somehow avoids resembling Lawrence of Arabia.

Anthony Quinn gives a superlative performance. The usually-boisterous Quinn is remarkably restrained, making his protagonist thoughtful and religiously devout, but a tough fighter in the clutch: Gandhi with a jezail. Oliver Reed's (Royal Flash) is equally impressive, making Graziani a restrained yet ferocious villain. Raf Vallone (El Cid) has some choice scenes as an Italian with a conscience. International stars Rod Steiger (On the Waterfront), John Gielgud (Becket) and Irene Pappas (The Guns of Navarone) have brief cameos.

Lion of the Desert is an unfairly overlooked gem. Its pro-Arab viewpoint is certainly unique, and it's a handsomely shot, exciting epic to boot.

Unforgiven

2011-08-28T20:08:00.007-04:00

Unforgiven (1992) stands as a seminal work in the Western genre. Easily the high point of the '90s Western boom, it's also Clint Eastwood's finest directoral effort.

Delilah (Anna Levine), a prostitute in Big Whiskey, Montana, is mutilated by a pair of cowboys (Rob Campbell and Anthony James) who go unpunished by Sheriff Little Big Daggett (Gene Hackman). Her colleagues, led by Strawberry Alice (France Fisher), raise money to avenge Delilah. Notorious (but retired) gunslinger Will Muny (Clint Eastwood) is coaxed by cocky bounty hunter The Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett) to collect the bounty. Will and partner Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman) think their violent days are past, but their mission and several run-ins with Little Bill causes the old, murderous Will to resurface.

The aged gunslinger who can't escape his past is one of the Western's oldest tropes. Henry King's The Gunfighter (1950) probably remains the best, with Gregory Peck's attempts at retirement sabotaged by fame-seeking "squirts." Variants have cropped up in Shane, Man of the West, The Shootist and Sam Peckinpah's Westerns, and Eastwood touched on theme himself in The Outlaw Josey Wales. What Unforgiven lacks in originality, however, it more than makes up for in craftsmanship.

Unforgiven is perhaps the ultimate revisionist Western. Eastwood and writer David Webb Peoples deconstruct every Western convention imaginable, with its sadistic Sheriff, bloodthirsty whores and protagonists who can't shoot straight. The violence is blunt and personal: a grisly whipping, Little Bill's savage beatings, a gutshot cowboy's slow, painful demise. A subplot with flamboyant gunslinger English Bob (Richard Harris) and a hack novelist (Saul Rubinek) allows Eastwood to explore (and explode) the gunfighter myth: Unforgiven's desperados are either bigmouth braggarts, haunted killers or outright psychopaths.

Unforgiven is an unusually character-rich Western, a genre that typically deals in archetypes. "Cured" by his deceased wife, Will tries to divorce himself from his younger days ("I ain't like that no more!"). But when he starts swilling whiskey and violently squinting, it's only a matter of time until the bullets start flying. Little Bill is a superb villain: a charming paterfamilias building himself a crooked house, he turns into a sadistic bully at the sight of an "assassin," a savage rebuke to the "law and order" mentality of oaters like Tombstone. The loudmouthed Schofield's character arc is predictable, but the guilt-ridden Ned, theatrical English Bob and hateful Strawberry Alice all make vivid impressions.

Revisionist Westerns that focus solely on "printing the fact" usually misfire (The Culpepper Cattle Company) but Unforgiven gets almost everything right. Eastwood cannily pitches the film at two levels, appealing both to the Cahiers crowd and the Clint fan. The anti-violence themes and Western deconstruction inspire reflection, but the well-crafted story and well-drawn characters make it more conventionally enjoyable. Some critics feel the finale, with Clint reverting to Man With No Name mode, undercuts the pacifist message, but a Shootist-style ending wouldn't pay off as well dramatically.

Clint Eastwood is one of Hollywood's most self-reflective film makers. While he made his name playing macho action heroes like the Man With No Name and Harry Callahan, he's used his directoral efforts to deconstruct these heroes. In High Plains Drifter, the squinty-eyed drifter became a sadistic rapist; in The Outlaw Josey Wales, his vengeful protagonist is drawn into settling down with a surrogate family. Unforgiven marked his transition from action director to auteur, his post-'92 output a glut of "serious" films that are critically acclaimed but mixed in quality.

On both sides of the camera, Eastwood has never been better. The film is incredibly beautiful, with Jack N. Green's photography of Canadian locations an appropriately autumnal feel, and despite several long digressions the story flows smoothly. (Eastwood also contributed Claudia's Theme, a simple but poignant guitar piece that forms that backbone of Lennie Niehaus's score.) His acting is even more impressive: usually a ruggedly impassive screen presence, Clint puts real emotion and anguish into Will Muny, making him more credible and sympathetic than all of his previous protagonists.

Gene Hackman makes an appallingly fascinating villain, capturing both Little Bill's charm and repugnance. Morgan Freeman has never been better, and Richard Harris's (Major Dundee) exuberant character almost steals the show. Ferocious Frances Fisher and meek Saul Rubinek (Nixon) give career-best turns. Only Jaimz Woolvett's callow greenhorn strikes a false note.

Unforgiven probably remains the best Western since the genre's heyday in the late '60s/early '70s. Certainly it's Clint Eastwood's finest hour as a director. And unquestionably, it's one of those relatively rare films that seemlessly combines entertainment and artistry.

Linkage

2011-08-22T19:44:00.006-04:00

Here I'll just share a few random links I've encountered over the past few days.

Anyone who's spent any time arguing about film on the internet will relate to Brad Brevet's hilarious, spot-on list of worst excuses made for bad movies.

Cracked Magazine has a fun gallery of B Movie posters for classic movies. The really bizarre Toy Story poster is the best.

From a week or two back, DVD Savant has a superlative review of Groggy favorite The Battle of Algiers.

Jim Tate of Cult Film Freak has reviews of the old Captain America movie (starring Reb Brown of Space Mutiny fame) and the new Conan the Barbarian up on his review blog.

We're in the twilight of the summer blockbuster season, and what a lousy summer it's been. To help ease you out of it, blogger John Gilpatrick has a concise guide to the upcoming fall movie schedule.

Groggy friend Moira devotes a surprisingly long (and amusing) post to Mackenna's Gold, of all things.

The always insightful, eclectic Self-Styled Siren writes an interesting piece defending what she terms "the greater variety of American speech" in classic Hollywood.

Unless I make it to the theaters again next weekend, my next viewing will probably be Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven. Stay tuned for that, gang.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

2011-08-20T20:28:00.007-04:00

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) was a pleasant surprise. Unlike another "reboot" of the hallowed science fiction franchise, it pays respect to the original while standing on its own merits as a rip-roaring blockbuster.

Scientist Will Rodman (James Franco) is obsessed with finding a cure for Alzheimer's after his father (John Lithgow) comes down with the disease. He tests a genetically-engineered virus on apes, causing them to become super smart - but also super-aggressive. Will raises chimpanzee Caesar (Andy Serkis) as a surrogate son, but despite Will's affection Caesar can't help noticing he's very different. Ending up in an animal shelter after attacking Will's neighbor, Caesar asserts himself as the leader of and begins planning a jailbreak.

Basically a remake of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972), Rise is a very thoughtful and interesting film. The original films had a lot of Civil Rights baggage that comes off strongly even in this film: the very human Caesar can't understand why he's treated as a pet, and his hardening in captivity makes for compelling character development. Giving each of the apes distinct personalities helps, and the mixture of photo-real CGI and telling character moments sells the potentially silly presmise. We don't really care about the boring humans, but the apes are certainly worth our attention.

Rupert Wyatt delivers wonderful crisp direction, allowing the plot to unfold at a brisk pace. The film is fairly subdued but Wyatt's action scenes are exciting, especially the cops vs. chimps battle on the Golden Gate Bridge. Writers Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver write in some interesting wrinkles to the plot that tie into the original films (and set up potential sequels). The computer and motion-capture effects are simply incredible: the apes are shockingly photo realistic, but also far more credible than Avatar's space kitties.

The human cast is boring. James Franco (Milk) is decent but it's hard to buy his character's moral indignation; can a man who tests an experimental drug on his dad complain about "unethical" research paractices? It's nice to see the breathtaking Freida Pinto (Slumdog Millionaire), even in a completely superfluous role. Tom Fenton (Harry Potter) has the unenviable task of mouthing hallowed Charlton Heston lines, which he does poorly. The one interesting performance is John Litghow (Footloose), who invests his underwritten character with emotion and gravitas.

Of course, the real star is Andy Serkis. Serkis is a master of motion capture, having already created Gollum and King Kong for Peter Jackson, but he takes it to a whole other level here. His Caesar is a truly remarkable creation, both visually and personally: his transformation from goofy adolescent to ferocious avenger is beautifully rendered, making him a surprisingly compelling protagonist, "human" but believably a chimp. If modeling a computer-generated simian counts as a performance, Serkis deserves an Oscar.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a fun popcorn film. It's easy to swallow the shallow human characters, goofy wonder drug Macguffin and overbearing homages to the original for the cool chimps and exciting action.

"$250 million cuts an awful lot of family ties."

2011-08-19T19:46:00.005-04:00

This past week has brought two interesting (if not encouraging) bits of news for Western fans starved for another quality oater. Apparently the surprise success of True Grit last winter got Hollywood suits thinking, which is never good. From the Coens' success, they gleaned an infuriating lesson: not just to make more Westerns, but to produce remakes of classic Westerns.

First we'll address the news that Tony Scott is planning to remake The Wild Bunch. The project's been mooted periodically in the past - a few years back, Training Day screenwriter David Ayer was preparing a modern-day version - but the recent success of a certain Coen Bros. film makes this one more likely to occur.

Now, let's succinctly state what's wrong here. The Wild Bunch is an unquestioned masterpiece of the Western genre, and Sam Peckinpah's finest film by a mile. Even if it's remembered mostly for its graphic, stylized violence, it's also a remarkably intelligent and poignant film with thematic depth and character richness matched by few other oaters. Even if a great director were attached to remake it, it would be an exercise in futility.

Tony Scott is a competent director who's made a few good movies (Crimson Tide), some bad ones (The Taking of Pelham 123 remake) and a lot in between. Most recently, he directed Unstoppable, a fun if forgettable popcorn film. But making decent action films and thrillers is not the same as making a great Western (see James Mangold and 3:10 to Yuma). It would be one thing if this were an obscure, mediocre oater, but a movie that's widely considered among the genre's best? Come on.

We can feel slightly better at the news that Disney has shelved its long-mooted update of The Lone Ranger. Reports are that the project was approaching a staggering $250 million budget, and some nervous Disney execs pulled the plug after seeing Cowboys and Aliens flop.

How, you may wonder, could a Western possibly cost more than Avatar? Well, we should note that the film would have been brought to you by the makers of Pirates of the Caribbean: director Gore Verbinski, writers Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio and star Johnny Depp. So you could expect a lot of elaborate, over-the-top action, computer effects and thrill ride goofiness.

And werewolves.

I'm not reflexively opposed to remakes. True Grit is a superb template for future use: take an original film that's good but flawed, work out its kinks and put a new spin on it. And God knows I'm always happy to see a new Western, even if few of the genre's recent outings have been worthwhile.

But these ideas are just rotten from their cynical inception. Just the idea of Tony Scott remaking The Wild Bunch is repugnant. On the other hand, I might be interested in a Lone Ranger film if it didn't have goddamned werewolves. Both evince piratical Hollywood behavior at its worst: cashing in on an existing name property without any understanding of why it's so revered.

What's next, pray tell? Stagecoach directed by Michael Bay? Will Smith in Joe Johnston's The Man from Laramie? The Rifleman starring The Rock as Lucas McCain, Vampire Hunter?

But hey, if the alternative is "original" Westerns like Cowboys and Aliens and Jonah Hex, maybe remakes aren't such a bad thing.

Ride With the Devil

2011-08-17T20:24:00.004-04:00

Ang Lee scores a home run with his Civil War epic Ride With the Devil (1999). This adaptation of Daniel Woodrell's Woe to Live On received middling reviews and a cold audience reception, but it's close behind Glory as one of Hollywood's best takes on the War Between the States.

Jake Roedel (Tobey Maguire) is the son of a German immigrant in 1860 Missouri, where a brutal guerilla war between pro-slavery Bushwhackers and free-soil Jayhawkers is spilling over from Kansas Territory. After Roedel's friend Jack Bull (Skeet Ulrich) loses his father to the Jayhawkers, Jake, Jack and hot-head Pitt (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) join a Bushwhacker gang led by George Clyde (Simon Baker) and his ex-slave Holt (Jeffrey Wright). The border war escalates into even further violence, as Clyde's gang joins up with the murderous William Quantrill (John Ales) in his sack of Lawrence, Kansas. Jake's German ancestry and friendship with Holt leads to a rivalry with Pitt, and a romance with widow Sue Lee (Jewel) further complicates things.

Ride With the Devil deals with a largely forgotten chapter of the Civil War. Hostilities had been raging in "Bleeding Kansas" since 1854, long before Ft. Sumter, giving rise to infamous killers like John Brown, Jim Lane, Bloody Bill Anderson and Will Quantrill. Missouri's plentiful German population sided with the Federal government, while slave-owners supported the Confederacy, and the Civil War took on a particularly brutal edge in that region. This lawless, internicine conflict generated atrocities on both sides, its legacy a generation of lingering hatred and criminals like Jesse James and Cole Younger.

A handful of films have addressed this brutal conflict. Dark Command, an early John Wayne vehicle, sees the Duke as a Jayhawker matching wits with Walter Pidgeon's Quantrill in the streets of Lawrence. Clint Eastwood's The Outlaw Josey Wales survives the conflict to continue a private war against the Unionist "Red Legs" who killed his family. And of course, there have been an slew of Jesse James films. Ride With the Devil, however, easily best these other accounts.

Ride With the Devil is a tapestry of moral ambiguity. The film's brutal brush warfare is far removed from the romanticized, heroic portrayals of Gone With the Wind and Gettysburg. There's little sense of ideology, whether states rights or slavery, in this conflict, with everyone drawn into the vortex of slaughter. Both sides commit atrocities, and those caught in the middle are subject: each of the protagonists loses a family member to the Jayhawkers, and don't bat an eye at gunning down unarmed men and boys at every opportunity. The film wonderfully humanizes its mostly-unseen Union soldiers through captured letters, providing welcome warmth that only emphasizes the war's cruelty.

Writer James Schamus's sensitive characterizations add to the complexity. Jake's dilemma is poignantly rendered: distrusted because of his German ancestry, he finds even his family isn't safe from Jayhawk depredation. The most interesting character is Holt, whose devotion to Clyde is unconditional - and who bitterly resents having his "freedom" subject to another man's whims. The film mostly avoids convention, with its mature treatment of its romance and resolving its central character conflict in an unexpected way.

Ang Lee's Hollywood work is hit or miss, but Ride With the Devil is some of his best work. The film is beautifully shot by Frederick Elmes, mixing gorgeous photography with brutally intense action scenes (and Mychael Danna's wonderful score). Curiously, what should be the film's centerpiece - Quantrill's raid on Lawrence - is a damp squib, filmed in a sterile and rushed fashion atypical of the rest of the film.

Skeet Ulrich was the biggest name at the time, but his star was ultimately outshone by co-stars Tobey Maguire (Spider-Man), James Caviezel (Wyatt Earp) and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers (The Tudors). Maguire has never been better than his measured performance, mixing righteous anger with moral uncertainty. Rhys-Meyers plays a bit over-the-top but Ulrich and Caviezel score by underplaying their characters. Singer Jewel's strong performance provides the story's emotional rock. Jeffrey Wright (Quantum of Solace) gives a layered, sensitive portrayal of a truly unique character. Familiar faces like Tom Wilkinson (Valkyrie), Simon Baker (TV's The Mentalist) and Mark Ruffalo (Shutter Island) turn up in bit parts.

Ride With the Devil isn't perfect, but it's definitely one of the better Civil War films available.

Remembering Life as a College Moviegoer

2011-08-14T12:56:00.012-04:00

Since I'm not watching too many movies (or posting reviews as often) recently, I will try and come up with posts and articles that won't take much mental effort. The first thing to pop into my head was to summarize my college. It's three months since graduation but as some of my fondest college memories involve moviegoing, I feel it could make a decent post.

Rather than try and list all the movies I saw in college (which would probably approach 1,000), I will restrict myself to theatrical viewings. These run the gamut from terrible to mediocre to great, as were the attendant experiences - usually involving trips on crowded, filthy Port Authority buses, a giant, artery-clogging burrito from Qdoba to eat (or TGI Friday's, or Eat 'N Park, or occasionally something classier). If you're lucky, this comes with a fun trip to a Barnes and Noble, shopping at the Homestead Waterfront or even the company of friends. If you're really lucky, there would also be rain, snow, slow-running buses, a filthy theater full of obnoxious teens and loud-mouthed seniors, and crazy bus-stop hobos to deal with as well.

Without further adieu, a list of all the movies I saw theatrically while a Pitt student (including films seen over vacation), in chronological order. Reviews linked where applicable.

Freshman Year (2007-2008):

The Kingdom
Elizabeth: the Golden Age
National Treasure: Book of Secrets
Atonement
Charlie Wilson's War
There Will Be Blood
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
The Dark Knight

Total: 8

Sophomore Year (2008-2009):

W.
Quantum of Solace
Changeling
Australia (twice)
Bolt
Twilight
Valkyrie
Doubt
Frost/Nixon
Slumdog Millionaire (twice)
Milk
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Reader
Gran Torino
Duplicity
Adventureland
Sunshine Cleaning
Terminator: Salvation
Public Enemies (twice)

Total films: 19
Total viewings: 22

Junior Year (2009-2010):

Inglourious Basterds
The Informant!
The Men Who Stare at Goats
The Princess and the Frog
Sherlock Holmes
The Young Victoria
Avatar
Up in the Air
The Hurt Locker
Shutter Island
Iron Man 2
Robin Hood
Toy Story 3

Total: 13

Senior Year (2010-2011):

Inception
The Town
The Social Network
Unstoppable
The Tourist
True Grit (twice)
The King's Speech
Black Swan
The Conspirator

Total films: 9
Total viewings: 10

Total films: 48
Total viewings: 52

Theatrical Breakdown:

Cinemagic Manor Theater (Squirrel Hill) - 20
AMC Lowe's (Homestead Waterfront) - 14
Richland Cinemas (Johnstown) - 11
Cinemagic Theater (Squirrel Hill) - 6
Pitt campus - 1

Other statistics:

Favorite: True Grit
Least favorite: The Reader
Films I've seen since theaters: 10
Most seen total: Slumdog Millionaire (four)
Films I'd didn't review (after starting the blog): 3
Seen with other people (friends/family/etc.): 11

Best experience: Avatar and Shutter Island came as part of two of my better Waterfront trips, each complete with a big lunch, hours of uninterrupted shopping/browsing and a Flashman novel. I also had lots of fun with Charlie Wilson's War, my first real night out at Pitt, which included a Barnes and Noble shopping spree and Coldstone Creamery Ice Cream. I also enjoyed seeing Valkyrie with one of my brothers over 2008's Christmas break.

However, my first viewing of Slumdog Millionaire probably wins. Not only did I love the film, but the experience was enhanced a) I wasn't expecting anything of it, b) it was such a wonderful bit of fun in the midst of a rather difficult time for me. The Jai Ho dance at the end was possibly the best five minutes I've ever had in a movie theater.

Worst experience: I've had plenty of experience with obnoxious audience members, with Milk's bloviating dickweed ("Hey look, it's Castro Street!") and Up in the Air's brain-dead old lady (arguing for ten minutes over whether Anna Kendrick's character stole or bought her suitcase) earning dishonorable mentions. Then there's The Reader, which was so bad it exacerbated a nervous breakdown (seriously). My impromptu Twilight trip, which left me stranded at the Waterfront in a snow storm, wasn't fun either. The worst, however, was one I actually didn't get to see.

In September 2007, I made my first attempt to see a movie in Pittsburgh, traveling to the South Side to watch 3:10 to Yuma. I missed the 7:00 bus for the 7:20 showing, and the next showing wasn't until 10. I made it there in time, but only after buying my ticket did I realize that the movie wouldn't end until after the buses would stop running. While waiting for a bus, I got hassled by some guy asking for gas money for his girlfriend. And I mean hassled - at least 15 minutes of this guy practically demanding me to give him my money. Fortunately, I didn't have cash in my wallet (it was loose in my pocket) so I eventually got him to bugger off. I didn't get back to campus until 11:30, my wallet somehow intact.

The next day, I attempted to go during broad daylight. However, at the bus stop in Oakland I got confronted by a crazy lady asking for money and thrusting her hand into her purse menacingly. I ran straight back to my dorm from there and resolved to wait to see 3:10 until it came out on DVD.

On the whole, college moviegoing was a fun experience. When you don't have too much money and not a lot of friends, going out for dinner and a movie on weekends was a nice way to relax. Not every movie was good and not every trip was fun, but I had enough enjoyable experiences to redeem the awful ones. The $500 or so I probably spent on movies and related items over the past four years was definitely worth it.

A Very Long Engagement

2011-08-09T19:55:00.004-04:00

I'm one of the relatively few people who was left cold by Amelie (2001), Jean-Pierre Jeunets's insufferably twee romantic fantasy. Still, there were two things I liked about it: Jeunet's inventive imagery and the impossibly-cute Audrey Tautou. If only they had a worthwhile story to work with...

Well, A Very Long Engagement (2004) fits the bill. A wonderfully moving genre-bending romance, it makes up for a thin plot with a treasure trove of incredible images, great performances and genuine poignance.

During World War I, five French soldiers are convicted of self-mutilation and sentenced to execution. And yet the sentence is never carried out, leaving Mathilde (Audrey Tautou), the fiancee of soldier Manech (Gaspard Ulliel), to investigate what happened. Her investigation uncovers levels of military and political corruption, and her contact with dozens of veterans and widows teaches Mathilde the human cost of the war.

A Very Long Engagement isn't much on story but it succeeds as poignant visual poetry. Jeunet is an endlessly creative director and Engagement is a joy to watch, from the diverse color schemes to the stylized fantasy scenes. The film features an endless array of beautiful set pieces, especially Mathilde and Manech's childhood friendship and Elodie's (Jodie Foster) efforts to get a child to earn her husband (Jean-Pierre Darroussin) exemption from the draft, that will tug at the hardest heart strings. The war scenes are more derivative, with mass machine gunning a la Gallipoli and the row of crosses out of Oh! What a Lovely War, but are effective enough all the same. While the plot doesn't quite hang together, these individual episodes make for compelling, emotional viewing.

Jeunet and Guillaume Laurant's script deftly mixes elements of melodrama, war film and detective story. The film is anti-war without being especially strident, choosing to focus on the human side of the war. Elodie's saga makes for especially tragic viewing, and the finale in the hospital/hangar is the height of harrowing irony. Tina Lombardi's (Marion Cotillard) one-woman vendetta against the French officer corps seems almost a rational response to the bureaucratic indifference and corruption that sent millions of French soldiers to their deaths.

There are plenty of locations across France, intricate use of flashbacks and fantasy and a colorful ensemble cast, but Jeunet never loses sight of the love story. The film uniquely handles its the romance: Manech and Mathilde are barely together onscreen, but an extended montage at the mid-point sells the audience on Mathilde's single-minded dedication. Certainly, with all of the other romances we see destroyed by war, we hope for a happy ending. The conclusion might be a cheat in other films, but it seems perfectly appropriate here.

Audrey Tautou is superb. She's effortlessly charming as always, and the scope of her quest serves to make her undying love of Manech immeasuribly poignant. Marion Cotillard's (Inception) whore-turned-assassin and Jodie Foster's mournful housewife get the showiest scenes. Ticky Holgado's shifty detective gets some of the film's funniest scenes.

A Very Long Engagement is a lovely film. With its marvelous imagery and clever romance, it's sure to please all but the most hardened viewers.

Captain America: The First Avenger

2011-08-06T23:11:00.005-04:00

Superhero movies have been done to death. World War II movies have been done to death. So why did I expect Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), a World War II superhero movie, to be any good?

Shrimpy, asthmatic Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) is repeatedly turned down by Army recruiters during World War II. Dr. Erskine (Stanley Tucci) learns of Rogers's predicament and recruits him into a secret project involving a super-soldier serum. The serum works, and Rogers becomes Captain America. Rogers is at first used to sell war bonds, but with the help of British Major Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) and Colonel Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones), he finds himself on the war's front lines. With a hand-picked team of sidekicks, he squares off against HYRDA, a top-secret Nazi research organization led by Johann Schmidt/Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), whose plans exceed even Hitler's wildest dreams.

Captain America brings absolutely nothing new to the table. It rattles off the expected superhero cliches in rote fashion: origin story, plucky love interest, colorful sidekicks, megalomaniacal villains and tragic deaths to provide extra motivations. The WWII setting feels tacky and artificial when mixed with ridiculous sci-fi technology, and the film's Nazis aren't even real Nazis. Just about the only creative element is the Captain's use a propaganda tool, and this clever meta angle is dropped in favor of exposition and laser shootouts as soon as possible.

Cliches aside, the film just isn't very good. The plot doesn't lack for potential but the screenplay spends way too much time on back story and build-up. The cast is generally ill-served: the Captain's commando sidekicks are so insignificant they don't even warrant onscreen names. The script is terrible, with blatantly anachronistic dialogue and puerile humor that never ceases to irritate. There are lots of character cameos and nods to other Avengers films like Iron Man that might excite the geeks but add nothing to the film. And don't get me started on the ending.

Director Joe Johnston provides his usual hackwork. The action scenes - a running shootout/foot chase through Brooklyn, the Captain's one-man rescue mission - are competently but unimpressively staged. There's a lot of meticulous period detail but the heavy use of CGI and green screen effects creates an airbrushed, sterilized and boring depiction of the '40s worthy of a Medal of Honor game.

Chris Evans is a poor choice for the Captain. He's likeable enough, but he lacks the raw charisma and forceful presence necessary for the part to work. Evans at least isn't completely ridiculous running around in star-spangled tights, but he's too busy being a swell guy to inspire the appropriate awe and admiration.

Hayley Atwell (very fetching) plays a stereotype passably well but Sebastian Stan is a boring sidekick. Hugo Weaving (Lord of the Rings) and Tommy Lee Jones steal the show playing parts they could assay in their sleep. Weaving makes a fun villain with a dead-on Werner Herzog impression, and Jones's crabby old geiser schtick never gets old. Toby Jones (Frost/Nixon) contributes some humor as Weaving's less-than-devoted sidekick.

Captain America is a bland, cliched, all-around forgettable superhero romp. Maybe if you're queing up for The Avengers next year, it's a must-see. But I say, in a summer which has already seen Thor, X-Men: First Class and The Green Lantern come and go, what's the point?

Three Kings

2011-07-31T12:29:00.014-04:00

One of Hollywood's best films about the Middle East, Three Kings (1999) holds up remarkably well twelve years and three "interventions" later. Like another Groggy favorite, The Wind and the Lion, David O. Russell's Gulf War opus is a pointed treatsie on American foreign policy disguised as a macho action flick.

March 1991. The Persian Gulf War has ended, with the US-led coalition expelling Iraqi troops from Kuwait but leaving Saddam Hussein in power. Special Forces Major Archie Gates (George Clooney) hears that a trio of soldiers - First Sergeant Troy Barlow (Mark Wahlberg), Staff Sergeant Chief Elgin (Ice Cube) and Private Conrad Vig (Spike Jonze) - have discovered an "ass map" detailing the location of stolen Kuwaiti gold within Iraq, and conspire to "liberate" it. Gates and his cohorts find Iraqi's Shia population rebelling against Saddam, but without American support they're slaughtered in brutal reprisals. The Americans try to focus on the mission, but spiralling Iraqi atrocities force them to get involved.

Three Kings borrows its basic plot from Kelly's Heroes, the goofy Clint Eastwood vehicle which had World War II GIs searching for German gold and inadvertently kickstarting the liberation of France. Russell's film, however, is much more serious, even as it retains a darkly comic edge. It's the rare action movie that takes its content seriously, and I hope you'll forgive me for a longer-than-usual review.

Plenty of Middle East-themed films have been made since 2001, but most are burdened with the usual "issue movie" baggage. Syriana and Lions for Lambs try to be cerebral but play as obnoxious PC posturing, and even Munich struggles with moral equivalence. Occasionally we get throwbacks like The Kingdom, whose puerile culture clash jokes seem anachronistic. Movies actually dealing with Afghanistan (Brothers) and Iraq (The Hurt Locker) generally have little to say.

Made two years before 9/11, Three Kings seems remarkably prescient. Despite the Gulf War's tactical success, the failure to remove Saddam left a bad taste. The opening scene, where Troy mistakenly kills a surrendering Iraqi, sets the tone immediately. American soldiers don't know why they're fighting, and all Troy can do when interrogated by an Iraqi Captain (Said Taghmoui) is spout propaganda. The toned-down depiction of Republican Guard atrocities against Shiite rebels throws the moral posture into question: If America's on the side of the angels, how can they let this happen? The liberation of Kuwait isn't unjustified, but as with our heroes self-interest takes precedence over moral concerns.

The strangest thing about Three Kings is that it's a liberal film. Eight years of George W. Bush made people forget that humanitarian intervention is a liberal idea: hence Clinton's dispatch of troops to Somalia, Bosnia and Kosovo (and our current difficulties in Libya). The film is very smart in showing that even "humanitarian" wars have consequences - rebel Amir (Cliff Curtis) lost his business to American bombs - but it ultimately endorses the Magnificent Seven scenario of gun-toting Americans rescuing downtrodden Iraqis. Again, one is reminded of The Wind and the Lion, where Marines on a political mission are shanghaied into an impromptu rescue: "I'd like to throw in with you. And God help us!"

It's easy to quibble with Three Kings' depiction of the Gulf War. All wars have unforseen consequences, even the rare, unquestionably justified ones: didn't World War II give us nuclear weapons and the Cold War? And since 2003, we've seen that the alternative to keeping Saddam around was problematic, to say the least. But the overall message is powerful: American interventions in the Middle East, whether for democracy, oil or counterterrorism, have consequences, and we ignore them at our peril.

Three Kings won't disappoint those looking for action and thrills, either. There are plenty of excitingly-staged gun battles and action scenes, with enough variety in stylization to keep from growing repetitive. It's also a very funny film, with a lot of great dialogue (the protagonists debating which Arab slurs are acceptable) and clever gags. There are a few pointed digs at the news media, with Nora Dunn's ratings-hungry reporter ("Stupid fucking birds!") and her rival (Judy Greer) sleeping with Gates for a story.

Russell's direction is heavily stylized, with use of handheld, Steadicam and tinted photography. A variety of editing choices - slow-motion shootouts, quick cut fantasy sequences - make for arresting viewing, as do the unique insert shots of bullets destroying organs and internal structures. Russell's script is extremely clever, turning throwaway gags into key plot points: a running argument about whether Lexus makes convertibles, and a Nerf skeet shooting scene have big payoffs. The only flaw is a happy ending, which undermines the caustic message a bit.

This film gave a huge career boost to its trio of stars, each struggling to break into "serious" acting. Mark Wahlberg scored a success with Boogie Nights two years earlier, but George Clooney was still struggling to shake off E.R. and Batman and Robin and Ice Cube worked to build off his cult hits Boyz n the Hood and Friday. All three stars are at the top of their game: Clooney mixing cocky and cynical, Wahlberg exuding confused intensity, Cube the stoic anchor.

Cliff Curtis (The Insider) and Said Taghmaoui (The Kite Runner) give layered portrayals of Iraqis caught up in the war. Spike Jonze's dumb Private and Nora Dunn's (Pineapple Express) self-absorbed reporter get some big laughs. Mykelti Williamson (Forrest Gump) and Holt McCallany (Rough Riders) play befuddled superior officers.

Three Kings is smart, funny and entertaining. If I've dwelt excessively on the politics, it's only because the movie actually has something to say about its hot-button content (Rambo, anyone?). Whether you enjoy it is a smarter-than-average war movie or an interesting look at the Middle East, Three Kings is excellent.

Three years and counting!

2011-07-30T20:35:00.005-04:00

Today is the 3rd anniversary of starting this blog!

It's hard to contemplate everything that's happened since then - three years of college, a girlfriend, a change of majors, and hundreds, if not thousands of movies (the 423 reviews are just the tip of the iceberg). Now I'm a college grad with a full-time job, holding out hope that I can find a writing job (and if possible get back to Pittsburgh).

Unfortunately, my job is still preventing me from watching many movies. I bought Three Kings on DVD at an FYE for cheap, so maybe I can squeeze in a viewing (and review) of that soon. If nothing else, I can wait for my brothers to go back to college so I have access to a huge backlog of movies on TiVo.

Again, thanks to all of my loyal readers for helping to make my blog a modest success, especially dshultz, Jack L., larma and Matt S. I welcome all comments and discussions, so all of your contributions are appreciated. Just know that my plate is full and I can't really follow your suggestions as much as I'd like. Also, I haven't the foggiest why you love Howard the Duck so much, but beggars can't be choosers.

Here's to another year of film watching and blogging - and hopefully something even more exciting down the road!

Sirocco

2011-07-28T16:00:00.005-04:00

One of Humphrey Bogart's worst films, Sirocco (1951) is borderline unwatchable. Playing like a strange mixture of Casablanca and The Battle of Algiers, it's dramatically stilted, thematically garbled and completely unsatisfying.

In 1925, Syrian Arabs revolt against France's heavyhanded rule, plunging Damascus into brutal guerilla warfare. General LaSalle (Everett Sloane) urges brutal tactics in suppressing the uprising, but sensitive Colonel Feroud (Lee J. Cobb) urges negotiation with Arab leader Hassan (Onslow Stevens). Into this volatile mixture steps Harry Smith (Humphrey Bogart), an American ne'er-do-well who ends up running guns to the Syrians. Harry seduces the pretty Violette (Marta Toren), who happens to be Feroud's lover, and the American finds himself caught between the two sides.

Prior to Lawrence of Arabia, Hollywood rarely even tried to get the Middle East right, and Sirocco is more egregious than fantasies like The Sheikh and The Four Feathers because of its seriousness. An early scene has a journalist interviewing the French and Arab leaders, showing each of them equally intransigent, but this interesting idea is lost with a completely one-sided portrayal. The French engage in disreputable tactics but Feroud's disapproval is emphasized, while the Arabs ambush French soldiers in the streets and blow up nightclubs. France's occupation of Syria was baldfaced imperialism, League of Nations Mandate or no, and Sirocco bests even the later Lost Command in its unsophisticated view of Middle Eastern insurgency.

Sirocco has more problems than its politics. The plot is a lazy retread of Casablanca, with the same roughish protagonist, tortured love triangle, shifty French officers and air of amorality, but without anything approaching the richness and enjoyability of that classic. The film was obviously made on the cheap and director Curtis Bernhardt does little to make it look good, with generically seedy back alleys and bombed out streets straight out of The Third Man. Most of the action occurs offscreen and the facile dialogue and characterization make it hard to care about what we do see. Sirocco is just a sour and empty experience all around.

Humphrey Bogart is on autopilot. By this point in his career, Bogie could play a cynical, amoral adventurer in his sleep and he proceeds to do just that. The idea of Harry as an anti-Rick Blaine is an interesting conceit, but Bogart does little with his character, merely going through the roguish motions. Even in lesser roles like Sabrina Bogart is rarely forgettable, but he comes awfully close here with a character who's just a low-rent creep.

Lee J. Cobb (On the Waterfront) anchors the film with a surprising role. Usually a scenery chewer extraordinaire, Cobb gives a refreshingly restrained, down-to-earth performance, his honorable French officer far more appealing than the unpleasant Bogart. Marta Toren is pretty in a weak role as the love interest. The supporting cast, despite including recognizable names like Onslow Stevens, Zero Mostel, Everett Sloane, Gerald Mohr and Jeff Corey, is completely forgettable.

Sirocco is junk of a rather low order. It's interesting neither as a portrayal of the Middle East, nor as a foreign noir, nor as a vehicle for Humphrey Bogart.

Beau Geste

2011-07-17T12:37:00.006-04:00

Beau Geste is another classic adventure from Hollywood's golden year, 1939. Based on a P.C. Wren novel, it's the most iconic - and shamelessly romantic - film portrayal of the French Foreign Legion. It's not as brilliant as its same-year counterparts The Four Feathers or Gunga Din but it's enjoyable enough as featherweight escapism.

Three orphaned children - Beau Geste (Gary Cooper) and brothers Digby (Robert Preston) and John (Ray Milland) - live with foster mother Lady Brandon (Heather Thatcher), a generous British noblewoman spurned by her husband. Lady Brandon plans to sell a family jewel for money, but someone steals it and blame falls on the Gestes. The brothers flee to the French Foreign Legion, and are shipped to Algeria where they serve under the sadistic Sergeant Markoff (Brian Donlevy). The Gestes make plenty of friends, but run afoul of Markoff and his weaselly informant Rassinoff (J. Carroll Naish), who knows their secret. An attempted mutiny and attacks by marauding Tuaregs postpones the confrontation, but a reckoning with Markoff is inevitable.

Beau Geste is pitched at an adolescent level, playing like a precocious thirteen year old's fantasy. It portrays the Foreign Legion as a summer camp, with lots of cool guys and fun activities but a jackass counselor who tries to ruin everything. This fantasy is undeniably appealing; who wouldn't want to go off with your brothers and friends to an exotic country and fight Arabs? (Granted, that last part isn't so exciting these days.) The undying camraderie of the brothers drives the story forward, kids who never grow up and always stick together, and the movie earns its sentimentality by playing things absolutely straight.

Beau Geste is enjoyable but dramatically mixed, getting by on the barest minimum of plot. The story is extremely thin, and the rivalry between the Geste and Markoff isn't given proper room to breathe. The film plunges into a series of battles just as intersquad tensions come to a head, and the showdown with Markoff is almost an afterthought. The Tuaregs are just pop-up targets without discernable motivation beyond the need for action fodder.

Director William Wellman (Battleground) shows his usual flare for action scenes, and the battles are well-staged and exciting, keeping the movie entertaining even when the pace flags. The final reels go on a bit too long, but the final twist adds a clever layer to the story. Despite its faults, there's never a dull moment.

Gary Cooper is heroic in his usual noble, colorless fashion, with Ray Milland and Robert Preston following suit. The three heros are extremely likeable, but function as a unit and none of them really standout. The real standout is Brian Donlevy (Hangmen Also Die!), giving a deliciously hammy performance that dominates the film's second half. The interesting supporting cast includes a young Susan Hayward as a love interest, J. Carroll Naish (Rio Grande) as a snitch, Albert Dekker (The Wild Bunch) as a mutineer, and Broderick Crawford, Stanley Andrews (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington), James Stephenson (The Sea Hawk) and Henry Brandon (The Searchers) as various Legionnaires. A young Donald O'Connor (Singin' in the Rain) plays Beau as a child.

Beau Geste is a fun little adventure. If it runs a bit thin on story in the later sections, at least it never wears out its welcome or loses its charming tone.

The Real World

2011-07-12T20:20:00.004-04:00

Well, the impossible has happened: I have a full-time job.

This is good for me in the money department, especially since my parents are letting me stay at home for awhile. However, this also means that I'll have little or no time in the immediate future for movie-watching. To compensate, I might review some movies I last watched in the distant past (eg. two months ago), or even tweak some old IMDB comments. Then again, I could always fall back on random thoughts that pop into my head, but God knows there are enough of those blogs and I'm not clever enough to maintain one.

Anyway, see you around! If I don't get to post much soon, well, there are 421 extant reviews for you to re-read. Or you can check out blogs that are actually good in the Friends and Interests column.

Big Jim McLain

2011-07-08T12:40:00.005-04:00

One of John Wayne's most egregious vehicles, Big Jim McLain (1952) is hard to take seriously. A mediocre police procedural with a right-wing edge, it rivals Red Nightmare as one of Hollywood's most overwrought Red-baiting efforts.

The House Un-American Activities Committee dispatches Agents Jim McLain (John Wayne) and Mal Baxter (James Arness) to unravel a ring of Communist spies operating out of Hawaii. McLain discovers that psychiatrist Dr. Gelster (Gayne Whitman) heads the group, who have infiltrated labor unions, Navy bases and medical institutions, hoping to sabotage Hawaii in the event of war. When Gelster's thugs kill Mal, McLain makes things personal.

Made at the height of McCarthyism and the Korean War, Big Jim McLain bluntly embraces right-wing paranoia. The movie is racially tolerant, with respectful portrayals of Hawaiians good and bad, but finds other ways to promote bellicose conservatism. Many of the loathsome Commies are simpering eggheads, but the worst is a self-proclaimed "country club" type, a well-heeled thug who gets Wayne's goat by comparing him to a nigger. These "intellectual" Bolshies are none-too-bright, discussing their nefarious plans in excrutiating detail for the benefit of the authorities. Of course, the Red weasels escape prosecution by hiding behind the Fifth Amendment. Just like those Commies to abuse our Constitution!

It's hard to ignore its ideology, but Big Jim McLain isn't much even as a straight thriller. The film garners bad laughs through McLain's pompous narration: "Frankly, I'm scared of leprosy!" he proclaims as he follows a lead to a leper colony. Director Edward Ludwig shoots some beautiful Hawaiian locations, but the plot is by-the-numbers, there's not enough action for most Wayne fans, and the Duke's romance with a pretty secretary (Nancy Olson) is underdeveloped. The film primarily exists to promote its fossilized Cold War politics, not to entertain.

John Wayne is in two-fisted hero mode, kicking Commie butt, romancing the pretty Nancy Olson (Sunset Blvd.) and upholding the American Way in inimitable fashion. Duke protege James Arness (Them!) plays his ill-fated sidekick. Veda Ann Borg's fiesty blonde informant steals her scenes, but the villains are a boring collection of stereotypes.

Big Jim McLain is a ridiculous curio, and one of John Wayne's worst pre-1970s films. Unless you still think Red-baiting is a swell idea, you're not likely to enjoy it.

The Tall Target

2011-07-05T20:02:00.005-04:00

Anthony Mann returns to historical noir with The Tall Target (1951), an excellent thriller based on the 1861 Baltimore Plot to kill Abraham Lincoln. Presaging The Day of the Jackal and Valkyrie, Mann crafts an assassination film where the outcome is predetermined; the interest lies not with the assassins' chance of success, but how they'll be stopped.

New York Police Sergeant John Kennedy (Dick Powell) discovers that President-elect Abraham Lincoln is the target of an assassination plot by pro-Southern citizens of Baltimore. Unfortunately, Kennedy's superiors don't believe him, so he takes it upon himself to foil the plot. Kennedy boards a Baltimore and Ohio flyer full of suspicious characters: a shifty stranger (Leif Erickson) who tries to impersonate Kennedy, a Southern West Point dropout (Marshall Thompson) planning to join the Confederate Army, a Union Colonel (Adolphe Menjou) who's not what he seems. Kennedy himself is targeted by the assassins, who try to frame him for murder before the train reaches Baltimore - and before Lincoln can be warned.

The Tall Target is a taut little thriller that zips along at a brisk pace. The plot is riveting from the word go, with Kennedy facing a forbidding gallery of antagonists. Many of Kennedy's fellow passengers openly declare that they want Lincoln dead, and the Sergeant has his work cut out for him just determining the scope of the plot, let alone stopping it. Writers George Worthing Yates, Art Cohn and Geoffrey Cohn craft a twisting deliciously complex plot keeps the audience on the edge of their seat, with the biggest plot twist coming offscreen. Mann's typically stylish direction, Paul Vogel's forbidding photography and a vividly rendered cast bring this story to life.

Dick Powell is excellent as the tough, grimly determined Kennedy. The supporting cast is equally solid. Adolphe Menjou (Paths of Glory) and Marshall Thompson (Battleground) are suitably devious as the plot's ringleaders, and Leif Erickson (On the Waterfront) gets a choice bit as a sleazy impostor. Ruby Dee (Cat People) shines as a helpful, quietly rebellious slave. Paula Raymond's (Devil's Doorway) feisty soldier's wife and Florence Bates's (Rebecca) arrogant abolitionist are also vividly rendered. Will Geer (In Cold Blood) and Victor Kilian (Abe Lincoln in Illinois) provide some light comic relief as the train's conductor and engineer.

The Tall Target is a superb historical thriller. It doesn't quite match the brilliance of Mann's earlier Reign of Terror, but it's still a solid film that's highly recommended.

Happy Birthday America!

2011-07-04T09:55:00.003-04:00

Happy 4th of July to my American readership! Hope you have an Independence Day full of fun, family and fireworks. And maybe some juicy steaks. Me, I'll probably be reading a Flashman book and playing the Revolutionary War scenario of Civilization IV.

I've been a bit slow in movie-watching lately due to job-hunting, moving back home and other assorted irritants. I spent the weekend on an epic roadtrip to Alabama for a friend's wedding, and spending 32 out of 53 hours in a car really takes it out of you. Besides Grand Illusion, I only squeezed in rewatches of Nixon and the Independence episode of John Adams last week.

I have a pretty full TiVo plate to consume, and this week I'll have to work around a job interview and a brother hogging the downstairs TV. You might see reviews of 1776, The Howards of Virgnia, I Know Where I'm Going!, The Tall Target and Touch of Evil in the near-future, but I'm not so bold as to promise anything.

Grand Illusion

2011-06-29T14:11:00.005-04:00

Jean Renoir's Grand Illusion (1937) is an overly earnest pacifist statement that hasn't aged very well. Today, it's perhaps most interesting as the blueprint for every prisoner-of-war movie ever made.

During World War I, a pair of French pilots - Captain Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay) and Lieutenant Marechal (Jean Gabin) - are shot down, and taken prisoner, by German Captain Von Rauffenstein (Erich Von Stroheim). The aristocratic Boeldieu and Rauffenstein strike up a friendship, while the working-class Marechal is left in the cold. The Frenchmen arrive in a POW camp, are transferred after an escape attempt, and finally end up in Wintersborn, a forbidding fortress deep in Germany. Boeldieu finds Rauffenstein commanding the camp, but this doesn't stop him, Marechal and the Jewish Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) from plotting an escape.

Grand Illusion's artistry and influence are undeniable. The entire prisoner-of-war genre rests on Renoir's foundation: Stalag 17 reproduced the scenario for laughs, Bridge on the River Kwai turned Boeldieu and Rauffenstein's friendship into twisted gamesmanship and The Great Escape's tunnelling scenes are lifted almost verbatim. Also, a scene of French POWs defiantly singing La Marseillaise no doubt inspired a similar passage in Casablanca. For its cinematic importance, Grand Illusion is on a list with Birth of a Nation, Battleship Potemkin and Citizen Kane.

Renoir's film is also beautifully made. Christian Matras's expressive photography is quite striking, and there's an interesting mix of sets and beautiful French locations. Renoir can certainly stage a setpiece, and makes use of beautiful symbols (Boeldieu's rose) throughout. There are no battle scenes (or even much sign of a war) but a viewer doesn't miss it when the drama is so compelling. On a human level, though, the film's effect is mixed.

Fans of Grand Illusion see a moving anti-war film, but I find it stiff and awkward. Renoir's commentary on class differences is fudged: Boeldieu and Rauffenstein are much more appealing than our proletariat protagonists, who seem almost clownish. Similarly, Renoir overdoses on the humanism: behind the lines, French and Germans are good pals, except where class distinctions interfere. Escaping prisoners are shot with greatest reluctance, or even allowed to escape. This "brotherhood of man" approach culminates in a treacly, overlong finale, with Marechal and Rosenthal holing up with a pretty German widow (Dita Parlo). These scenes would be powerful in a more balanced film, but we're so invested in the officer relationship that what happens to these doofs doesn't register.

Pierre Fresnay and Erich Von Stroheim own the film. Their relationship is beautifully rendered and tragic, and the movie loses steam when they leave the scene. By contrast, Jean Gabin and Marcel Dalio's characters aren't very interesting; their only trait is war-weariness and they register as symbols rather than characters. Dita Parlo makes an impression despite minimal screen time.

Grand Illusion is not my cup of tea. It has strong elements that make it worthwhile, and no one can deny its importance to film history. However, it hasn't stood the test of time nearly as well as, say, All Quiet on the Western Front.

Gallipoli

2011-06-25T19:59:00.006-04:00

Gallipoli (1981) is a superlative war film. Director Peter Weir moves from the bizarre atmospherics of Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) to a moving tale of World War I's most disastrous campaign - the Anglo-French invasion of Gallipoli, Turkey.

Archy Hamilton (Mark Lee) is an aspiring runner trapped on a farm in the wilds of West Australia. World War I breaks out and Archy feels compelled to enlist, despite the protests of his Uncle (Bill Kerr), who feels the war doesn't concern Australia. At an athletic event, Archy meets Frank Dunne (Mel Gibson), a ne'er-do-well fellow sprinter, and the two trek to Perth to join the Lighthorse Regiment. After training in Egypt, they're sent to join the Allied landing at Gallipoli, aimed at knocking the Ottoman Empire out of the war. Archy and Frank find themselves front and center for a desperate attack against well-entrenched Turkish troops at Anzac Cove.

Gallipoli stands at the forefront of Australian heritage films from the '80s, emphasizing their heroic role in Britain's imperial conflicts. It lacks the anger of the previous year's Breaker Morant but has the same message: Australian lives are wasted by callous British generals. A mixture of miscommunication (a telephone line with the Lighthorse Colonel (John Morris) fails during the battle) and pig-headedness causes of the carnage, killing thousands for no appreciable gain. The battles are brief but extremely harrowing: the first two waves in the final attack are mowed down literally in seconds by Turkish machine gun fire. The gut-wrenching finale rivals All Quiet on the Western Front as a potent anti-war statement.

However, Gallipoli keeps sermonizing in the background and focuses on its characters. Both protagonists are strongly sketched: Archy idealistically serving his country and naively trusting imperial propaganda ("We fight them there so they won't come over here!"), Frank a likeable scoundrel more interested in chasing girls than war. Their early scenes in Australia are endearing, their reunion in Egypt poignant and their fate in Turkey shocking. As a representation of a generation of Aussies, forging a national identity through wartime sacrifice, they're compelling and believable.

Weir manages an impressive production on a relatively tight budget. The film transitions from character drama to war film with ease, matching the scenic beauty of the South Australian desert and Egyptian pyramids with an impressive recreation of the Dardanelles trenches. The battle scenes are horrifying, but the most creative sequence involves soldiers dodging shrapnel while swimming nude at the beach. A synth-heavy score by Brian May and Jean-Michel Jarre strikes a false note, however.

Mel Gibson had already made a splash in Mad Max two years prior, but this film catapulted him to superstardom. Gibson's full of raw charisma, perfectly suited for his roguish character, but never hogs the spotlight. Mark Lee gives a fine performance, likeable and believably idealistic. Bill Kerr (as Archy's Uncle) and Bill Hunter (as a sympathetic Major) give strong supporting turns.

A seminal work in Australian cinema, Gallipoli is an excellent take on World War I, Australia's emerging national identity and wartime friendship and loss. Other Aussie films (The Light Horsemen, Anzacs) touch on these themes, but never to such strong effect.

RIP Peter Falk

2011-06-24T19:55:00.003-04:00

I'd be remiss if I didn't note the passing of Peter Falk.

Smart, funny and intense, Falk was a remarkable screen presence and a terrific actor. He's best-remembered for playing the crusty, sly Colombo on TV for ten years (not counting post-facto TV movies and specials). He had his share of memorable film roles, too, including Murder, Inc., Pocketful of Miracles (both Oscar-nominated), A Woman Under the Influence, The Princess Bride and Wings of Desire. Of course, I'll always remember him as one of the stars of Neil Simon's Murder by Death, one of my all-time favorite comedies.

RIP Sam Diamond. You'll be missed.

Young Bess

2011-06-23T15:15:00.004-04:00

All Young Bess (1953) needed to sell me was casting Jean Simmons as Elizabeth I. Fortunately, the film surrounding Simmons is quite good, a solid take on a bit of Tudor history generally neglected by popular culture.

Upon the death of Henry VIII (Charles Laughton), England falls under the stewardship of child-king Edward VI (Rex Thompson), whose government is ruled by Edward Seymour (Guy Rolfe), Lord Somerset. Princess Elizabeth (Jean Simmons), Edward's sister, remains in the shadows, worried that her descent from the executed Anne Boleyn endangers her. She none-too-discreetly carries on an affair with Thomas Seymour (Stewart Granger), the Lord Protector's brother and an English admiral. The two love each other, but Seymour marries Catherine Parr (Deborah Kerr), Henry's widow, and Elizabeth finds herself targeted by Somerset's scheming.

Young Bess views Elizabeth before she became the "Virgin Queen" of legend. Aside from Tudor Rose and Lady Jane, Edward VI's reign has rarely shown up on film, and Young Bess earns points for showing an England creeping towards modernity, with Edward and Somerset eagerly embracing Protestantism after Henry's hesitant dalliances. Princess Mary is unfairly portrayed as an idiot, and English Catholics get short shrift, but Elizabeth's struggles to land her true love, Edward's religious reforms and the Seymour's Cain-and-Abel rivalry makes for compelling drama. A sumptuous production helmed by George Sidney, Jan Lustig and Arthur Wimperis's smart script and a lavish Miklos Rosza score bring this story to vivid life.

The film's centerpiece, of course, is Jean Simmons's marvelous performance. Even more than Cate Blanchett, she does a superb job depicting the young Elizabeth, impulsive, love struck and vulnerable, but already intelligent, far-sighted and indomitable. Simmons handles her big scenes perfectly, whether professing her love to Seymour or telling off Somerset's kangaroo court. We can ignore Simmons's incorrect hair color when her performance is so good, and when she's ravishing as a brunette.

Stewart Granger (then Simmons's husband) makes a dashing love interest (though much more likeable than the real Seymour). Deborah Kerr (The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp) handles a thankless part well, giving Catherine Parr the right level of gravitas. Groggy favorite Kay Walsh (Oliver Twist) steals her scenes as Elizabeth's lady-in-waiting. Charles Laughton briefly reprises his signature role from The Private Life of Henry VIII twenty years prior. Leo G. Carroll (North by Northwest) has an amusing cameo.

Young Bess is another solid Tudor drama, mixing great performances, smart writing and sumptuous pageantry.

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman

2011-06-21T15:49:00.005-04:00

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951) is a bizarre but fascinating film. A romantic fantasy pitched at a mythological level, it's full of striking imagery, strange symbolism and excellent performances.

A group of English expatriates living in Espernza, Spain circa 1930 makes American singer Pandora Reynolds (Ava Gardner) the center of attention. Pandora stirs the lust of every man she meets, but matches their affection with cold indifference - even when some of them wind up dead. Enter Henrik van der Zee (James Mason), a melancholy Dutch sailor who finds himself drawn to Pandora, and she to him. Turns out that Henrik is the legendary Flying Dutchman, condemned to an eternity alone at sea, unless he can find a lover willing to redeem his soul through self-sacrifice.

Loosely inspired by Wagner, Pandora and the Flying Dutchman is a unique experience. It plays like a supernatural Powell and Pressburger film, with elaborate fantasy scenes, ravishing Jack Cardiff photography and an otherworldly, dreamlike feel. Director Albert Lewin provides some striking images, occasionally bordering on the surreal: the discovery of Pandora and Henrik at the beginning, milquetoast Stephen (Nigel Patrick) pushing his car off a cliff to impress Pandora, the nighttime party on a beach strewn with statuary.

Despite his baroque stylings, Lewin keeps things relatively restrained, focusing on the story and characters. The romantic entanglements could make for sloppy melodrama, but the mythological elements adds grandeur to the proceedings. Henrik's detailed flashbacks elevate the story to high tragedy. Pandora, the untamed embodiment of female sexuality, makes her an interesting match for a variety of suitors: milquetoast Stephen, flamboyant matador Juan (Mario Cabre), and suicidal Reggie (Marius Goring). Archaeologist Fielding's (Harold Warrender) narration is a bit clunky, but (along with the beautiful Spanish locations) places the story in its appropriate storybook context.

Ava Gardner gives one of her best performances, bursting with scarcely-restrained sensuality and cold, almost nihilistic indifference until the end. James Mason is the emotional anchor, making the melancholic Dutchman a truly tragic figure. Nigel Patrick (The Sound Barrier) isn't very interesting but Mario Cabre and Marius Goring (The Red Shoes) make strong impressions as Pandora's doomed admirers. Sheila Sim (A Canterbury Tale) is endearing as a girl with an unrequited crush on Stephen.

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman makes for an interesting watch. Full of beautiful images and fine performances, it's definitely an overlooked gem.

100 Rifles

2011-06-20T19:57:00.005-04:00

Tom Gries delivers a particularly puerile Western with 100 Rifles (1969). Shallow, derivative and dull, it serves only to remind viewers of a million better oaters - and that Raquel Welch has great knockers.

American Marshal Lyedecker (Jim Brown) shows up in Sonora, Mexico, tracking half-breed bank robber Yaqui Joe (Burt Reynolds). It turns out Joe used the money from his latest score to buy rifles for the Yaqui Indians, who are rebelling against the brutal rule of General Verdugo (Fernando Lamas), a stooge in bed with foreign businesses and mercenaries. Lyedecker initially resists Joe's attempts to draw him into the conflict, but when he falls for the beautiful Sarita (Raquel Welch), Lyedecker is "elected" General, leading the Yaqui against Verdugo's forces.

100 Rifles is a weak entry in the "Zapata Western" subgenre, a collection of films dealing with the Mexican Revolution of 1910. These films generally involve amoral Americans joining Pancho Villa's guerillas for profit, idealism or private reasons, usually with a Mexican sidekick along for the ride. While Italian Zapatas are heavy on playground political commentary (A Professional Gun), American takes focus on the action and characters (The Professionals, The Wild Bunch). Both approaches mostly use Mexico as a backdrop, the Mexicans themselves expendable pawns in increasingly graphic action scenes.

100 Rifles is indistinguishable from a million other "Zapatas," borrowing tropes like the reluctant revolutionary, the German military advisor (Eric Braeden) and the ubiquitous firing squads and machine gun battles. Leydecker even presages Sergio Leone's Duck You Sucker!, earnestly insisting "I ain't no General!" to cheering rebels. The film makes a few nods to '60s counterculture (the interracial romance, a victory celebration that plays like a hippie love-in) and features a sleazy railroad boss (Dan O'Herlihy) as a villain, but is otherwise apolitical. Revolutionary Mexico again becomes a shooting gallery for discontented gringos; who cares about Mexicans anyway?

A decent shoot-'em-up could be crafted from these familiar elements, but 100 Rifles rarely achieves competence. The plot is creaky to begin with, and loses focus altogether when our protagonists are drawn together. The characters are so thin that we don't give a damn what happens to them; even the "shocking" finale is undercut when a key death occurs off-screen. Gries piles on the action but, aside from an impressive train wreck towards the end, the battles and massacres are repetitive, uninvolving and ultimately boring. The movie uses Almerian locations familiar from a million Spaghettis, but Cecilio Paniagua's photography is flat and undistinguished. Even Jerry Goldsmith's score is merely competent.

Jim Brown, fresh off The Dirty Dozen, has strong presence but can't convincingly transition from lawman to revolutionary. Burt Reynolds steals his scenes, but is sidelined for much of the film. Raquel Welch is especially hot-to-trot, wearing skimpy peon garb, getting a near-nude interracial love scene and having a titillating public shower, but as usual her acting chops drag things down. The villains are comic-book archetypes and none of the supporting players make an impression.

Overall, 100 Rifles is a poor excuse for a Western. It's neither interesting, nor well-made, nor enjoyable even on the basic levels of action and mayhem. Unless you're really into Raquel Welch, I suggest you skip this one.

The Caine Mutiny

2011-06-14T10:25:00.004-04:00

The Caine Mutiny (1954) is a superb film on many levels: a powerful character drama, a pictorally-handsome epic and a thoughtful look at the pressures of military command. Producer Stanley Kramer and director Edward Dymytryk were prone to obnoxious "message films," but their adaptation of Herman Wouk's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel is an unqualified success.

Newly minted Ensign Willie Keith (Robert Francis) is assigned to the Caine, a small minesweeper run ineptly by Commander de Vriess (Tom Tully). Keith befriends the ship's officers, steadfast Lieutenant Maryk (Van Johnson) and snide would-be novelist Keefer (Fred Macmurray), but struggles in his first days at sea. Things change when Captain Phillip Queeg (Humphrey Bogart) assumes command. Queeg is a martinet who whips the crew into shape, but his erratic actions - cutting a tow line during a training exercise, turning tail during a military operation - cause his officers to question his competence. An incident involving pilfered strawberries brings Queeg's sanity into question, and Keefer convinces Keith and Maryk that mutiny is the only answer to the Caine's problems.

The Caine Mutiny is superbly crafted. This could easily have been a Mutiny on the Bounty tale of nautical tyranny, but Wouk, Dymytryk and scenarist Stanley Roberts make things far much more complex. Queeg is not a conventional villain, but a badly damaged man with crippling personality flaws. He's seen heavy action in the Battle of the Atlantic, being attacked by one submarine too many. The scenes where he half-apologizes to Keefer for his first rant, and a scenee where he practically begs his officers for help, show that he's all too aware of his shortcomings, even if he's loathe to admit it. Regardless, his obsession with shirttails and strawberries destroys crew morale, and his instability makes him a dangerous man.

The conflict between Keefer and Maryk drives the story. Keefer is marvelously complex, a cynical agitator who nudges Maryk towards mutiny, but an inveterate, self-serving coward in crunch time. Maryk knows something's wrong with Queeg, but can't think of a course of action, allowing Keefer to dictate events. The trial scenes place events in stark relief, showing that the mutiny, while justified by immediate circumstances, was not inevitable. Nor are Keefer and Maryk heroes. Instead of helping Queeg or going through proper channels, they fail to act until events force their hand. This is much more interesting than the usual "When is insubordination justified?" dilemma, which assumes the captain is always at fault.

Dramatically the film is solid, with only a few clunks. The film is marvelously fast-paced, given that it's a straight drama, alternating seemlessly between sweeping ocean scenes and quiet conversations. There's an admirable balance between high adventure and personal conflicts that few films achieve. On the other hand, we spend a lot of time on Keith's romance with a pretty singer (Mae Wynn), a subplot completely disconnected from the story. Greenwald gets a pointed final rant which spells things out for slower audience members. These bows to audience sensibility are forgiveable, however.

Dymytryk toned down the novel's rougher edges to ensure Navy cooperation, but the results seem worth the artistic compromise. Franz Planer's beautiful Technicolor photography makes the film function as an epic even with the focused drama, with use of real Navy ships, archive footage and a few well-placed miniatures. Max Steiner's score feels a bit too bombastic for the material, blaring Navy ballads even as characters plan and deliberate.

This is Humphrey Bogart's best late-career performance. Queeg seems a typical martinet at first, with barely-concealed neuroses, an eye for petty details and an obsession with discipline. But he's a much more complex character than Captain Bligh, a war hero who's simply seen too much combat to function properly but too proud to admit it. Bogart plays the part beautifully, mixing his forceful personality with scarcely-concealed inner pain, allowing us to pity Queeg even in his worst moments.

The supporting cast is phenomenal. Newcomer Robert Francis (The Long Gray Line) gives a superb performance, holding his own against his seasoned co-stars. Sadly, Francis died in a plane crash in 1955, cutting short a promising career. Fred Macmurray (Double Indemnity) has never been better, subverting his usual charm with a wonderfully snide, loathsome character. Van Johnson's (Battleground) conflicted, tormented Maryk is easily his best performance. Jose Ferrer's (Lawrence of Arabia) sardonic attorney doesn't show up until the last forty minutes, but completely steals his section of the film. E.G. Marshall (Nixon) ably plays the Navy prosecutor, and Lee Marvin and Claude Akins (Rio Bravo) can be spotted as sailors.

Strangely, of all the supporting cast only Tom Tully's brief, one-note portrayal of Queeg's predecessor received an Oscar nod. Tully is easily the weakest cast member aside from May Wynn's superfluous love interest.

A few minor flaws aside, The Caine Mutiny is a gripping, superbly made film. Rarely has a movie better explored the difficulties of military command, and the consequences of miscommunication and incorrect action.