Reviews

  • Bus Riley’s Back in Town (1965)

    Bus Riley’s Back in Town (1965)

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) Even if 1967 is generally regarded as the year that movies changed forever (finally moving past the Hays Code and embracing a more naturalistic style), you can see a steady evolution of American movies throughout the 1960s, from black-and-white to colour, and slowly tackling modern issues in increasingly frank fashion. While Bus Riley’s Back in Town is not an exceptional movie in any regard, you can use it as evidence of how things were changing. Here we have a young man (Michael Parks) coming back to his hometown after three years in the Navy, trying to reconnect but feeling more alienated than ever. As a small-town domestic drama, the stakes are low but the plot is character-driven, what with him being seduced by an ex-girlfriend (Ann-Margret, playing a bad girl) now married and bored, his unwillingness to settle for a good but boring job as a mechanic, and his lack of acknowledgement that things keep changing. I was drawn into the film by Ann-Margret’s name, but her mid-1960s screen persona is here used for clearly dramatic effect, as she incarnates the temptation and regression that the main character must move past. Bus Riley’s Back in Town is not spectacular, but it’s considerably more intriguing than I expected, and as a slice of small-town America in the mid-1960s, it’s far more credible than many wilder and better-known movies.

  • Sweet and Low-Down (1944)

    Sweet and Low-Down (1944)

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) Few things get me thinking about the changing nature of pop-culture as much as seeing Classic Hollywood movies presenting band leaders as celebrities. Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Kay Kyser have each played or been played in major Hollywood productions of the time, and if Sweet and Low-Down has any claim to enduring worth, it’s in presenting Benny Goodman playing Benny Goodman in a fictionalized story about a band leader (Goodman, naturally) taking a young musician under his wing. There’s more conflict than you’d expect, especially at the end, but the story of the film is almost inconsequential when compared to having captured Goodman and his band doing what they did best. The music is particularly good if you’re a fan of jazz and swing (or even swing revival genres such as swing-house, which samples a lot of this material)—there’s a really good jam session in there that’s worth a listen. Goodman himself plays a mean flute in one of the film’s highlights. The film’s lack of narrative makes a bit more sense when you realize that it was made as counterprogramming for heavier military propaganda films on the home front, and as entertainment for the troops abroad. While Sweet and Low-Down is practically obscure these days (most people are more likely to associate the title with the 1999 Woody Allen movie—I know I did!), I really enjoyed the look at pop culture as it existed then. Benny Goodman is an immortal, though, and we’re insanely lucky to have preserved on film some of his charm and musical talent.

  • The Yellow Rolls-Royce (1964)

    The Yellow Rolls-Royce (1964)

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) There are two ways of making a movie about an inanimate object, and The Yellow Rolls-Royce has picked the worst one. The best way is to depict the object as a character that has a beginning and an end, with several related trials along the way—it gets purchased, used, damaged, repaired, liked, lost, etc. The second way is far looser and consists in loosely stringing a few unconnected stories that all happen to feature the object. The Yellow Rolls-Royce would have been a lovely excuse for a multi-decade story about a car. Unfortunately, it ends up being the common thread between unconnected stories, taking us from the English aristocracy to a vacationing mobster and his moll, to revolutionaries in Nazi-occupied Yugoslavia. There is very little connective tissue nor progression between the three stories, which appears to be excuses to get as many stars in the film. To be fair, the cast is quite good: Rex Harrison and Jeanne Moreau get the ball rolling, as the Yellow Rolls-Royce is purchased by a pompous English aristocrat as a birthday gift for his wife. George C. Scott, Shirley MacLaine and Alain Delon push the ball even further in Venice, as romantic shenanigans complicate a summer holiday. Finally, the film hits its stride alongside Ingrid Bergman and Omar Sharif as she, a rich American widow, helps him, a resistance fighter, cross a national border and fight the Nazis. The Yellow Rolls-Royce can be worth a look if you’re a fan of these actors, or if you choose to focus on the third story and the very beginning of the first. Otherwise, it does feel like a disappointing mishandling of a potent premise. Too bad—I’m sure there’s still a heck of a movie to be told about the life of a car.

  • Bud Abbott and Lou Costello Meet the Invisible Man (1951)

    Bud Abbott and Lou Costello Meet the Invisible Man (1951)

    (On TV, September 2020) I’m slowly warming up to the Abbott and Costello comedy team—every successive film, I get a better sense of their approach to comedy, and Bud Abbott and Lou Costello Meet the Invisible Man is no exception. Made at a time when Universal was trying to extend the life of two of their most popular franchises by merging them together (if my count is correct, it’s the third of five ‘Abbott and Costello meet Universal Monsters’ movies), this ends up being a very loose take on the Invisible Man mythos, with our comic pair encountering a boxer who is injected by a formula developed by the original Invisible Man. The plot soon turns to a rigged boxing match, which obviously makes good use of Costello’s physique and the possibilities of a third invisible fighter in the ring. The special effects are surprisingly good even today and there are a few good laughs. I won’t ask much more. It’s not quite as good as Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein, but it’s decently amusing on its own.

  • Kill ’Em All (2017)

    Kill ’Em All (2017)

    (In French, On TV, September 2020) There is something halfway interesting in Kill’em All’s structure: As a nurse is interrogated by the FBI regarding a mass shootout at her hospital, we see, in flashback, the way the day unfolded. As a way to add interest to a bog-standard revenge story starring Jean-Claude van Damme, it’s not a bad idea. Alas, this promising opening quickly gets bogged down in other more serious issues. The lack of directorial prowess from Pjetër Malota is regrettable, but really unexpected from the film’s low-budget pedigree: as long as people are getting beaten up or shot, it’s not the staging or the cinematography that’s going to wow us. What’s far more damaging is that, as Kill ’em All advances, it feels to grow more serious than it should be. There’s a time for sombre reflections on the cycle of violence to emerge from the Balkan states’ wars, but there’s also tonal consistency issues—and while Kill ’em All tries to be a pulse-pounding action movie, it also stomps on the brakes as it moodily explains its revenge-fuelled backstory in a way that’s really no fun at all. But it gets worse, and you can actually sense it coming—By spending so much time on the nurse protagonist, the film clearly telegraphs that there’s more to her than meets the eye, and much of the film’s last twenty minutes are spent preparing, announcing, making, then reinforcing a perfectly obvious plot point that is clearly supposed to be a twist. It really doesn’t work—in fact, it makes the film much worse considering how much of its last minutes are spent going over perfectly obvious material. (Suzzzaaaaane with a Zed!) Once all is done, we’re not left happy, and the film’s lesser flaws are magnified. There’s bad casting, for instance: While it’s cool to see Maria Conchita Alonso again and Autumn Reeser is very cute in hospital scrubs and brunette bangs, Peter Stormare is all wrong in greasy hair and thick beard as a back-office CIA analyst. Worse yet is Jean-Claude van Damme, about twenty years too old to even fit in the chronology of his character—a casting mistake made even worse by the way his character reacts like an old man rather than what a younger character should have been able to accomplish. Those may have been forgivable with a stronger, more sustained script—but the multiple points of failure in Kill ’em All multiply to make the film feel even worse than it is.

  • Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis (2005)

    Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis (2005)

    (On TV, August 2020) I really wasn’t expecting much from Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis, but I was at least hoping for some continuity from the Return of the Living Dead series, which was (at least at first) markedly funnier than the Romero films. Alas… well, I clearly hadn’t been paying attention at the evolution of the series — which didn’t keep the comic tone starting with the third entry, and kept getting smaller and smaller production budgets. Necropolis ends up being about as good as a made-for TV film, with bland characters, formula-based plotting and muddy cinematography. There aren’t many bright moments to it all, and once you start counting, “The heroine looks cute in pigtails and glasses” as one of the highlights, you know there isn’t much left to discuss. (Although, it’s true: Aimee-Lynn Chadwick does look cute in pigtails and glasses.) Simplifying the series formula down to teenage antics (with an inexplicable side order of motorcycle racing) is not a good way to go anything worth praising, and Necropolis ends up being that most pitiable of creations: a dull zombie movie like so many others, not even worth a look unless you’re some kind of crazy completist with a strong tolerance to boredom.

  • The Big Country (1958)

    The Big Country (1958)

    (On TV, August 2020) In theory, there’s a lot that I should like about The Big Country – big expansive colour vistas of the American wild west, an undercurrent of how civilization tames the excesses at the frontier, a legendary feud between two grander-than-life characters, the unusual sight of Charlton Heston reduced to a supporting role, and a wealth of subplots to choose from. Alas, in practice The Big Country is often excruciatingly dull – the wealth of subplots turns out to be an issue when the film can’t effectively pick which one to develop, and still ends up at an excessive 166 minutes in length. I’m not saying it’s bad – The film noticeably perks up whenever Burl Ives makes an appearance, the last half-hour finally gets going with some action, leading to a few scenes that I really don’t mind. But it’s a lot of work to get there, and a better filmmaker would have found a better way. Certainly, a more economical one… although considering the mood of the time (during which Hollywood wanted to bring audiences back from the TV screen through widescreen colour epics worth the trip to the theatre), I’m not sure that this twenty-first century criticism of The Big Country would even have been a possibility during the film’s production.

  • Gun Crazy (1950)

    Gun Crazy (1950)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) The history of a crazy couple on the run is longer than I first thought – never mind Natural Born Killers or Bonnie and Clyde when you can go all the way back to Gun Crazy to see more of the same (and I’m sure there are earlier examples). The first few minutes set an unpredictable tone, as an unusually gun-obsessed young man comes back from military service to find kinship in a carnival performer who is as good a sharpshooter as he is, but significantly crazier. As such couples are wont to do, they go on a criminal rampage, first robbing stores only to graduate to killing people when the heat closes in on them. The ending isn’t for those hoping for a happy ending, although it’s strikingly appropriate to the noir era. Peggy Cummins and John Dall are quite good in their roles, but in many ways it’s Dalton Trumbo’s script that hooks us in early with clever touches and never lets go until the end of their rampage. Director Joseph H. Lewis does justice to his narrative blueprint by keeping things moving at a quick pace, and adding just enough visual details to reinforce the rapid pace. Gun Crazy is, in short, a great example of a short and snappy classic crime film – not even 90 minutes, and over before you even get tired of its fast pace.

  • High Sierra (1941)

    High Sierra (1941)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) According to many film historians, High Sierra is the film that put Humphrey Bogart on the map: He was already a steadily working, well-regarded actor for Warner Brothers, and his fame would be consecrated within the next year with The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca, but High Sierra is the film that made people stand up and take notice of him as a star. Watching it, it also strikes me as a strong early noir film, what with the dark forces of fatality stopping even a well-meaning character from a happy ending. Bogart here plays a character recently released from prison, but already planning a big heist. The film describes his own dramatic arc along the way from prison to recidivism, made more interesting by the character being tempted by the righteous path. This being an early noir, you can expect that it’s not going to end well… but it’s the journey that counts, and seeing Bogart ruminate on the choices his character is making. This may be the transition point between Warner’s 1930s gangster films and true honest noir as we’d know it later on – you can point to The Public Enemy one way, and Detour the other. It’s also quite entertaining to watch – Bogart looks terrific with a very severe haircut, torn between Ida Lupino as a fantastic bad girl, and Joan Leslie as the flip side of his morality. The result is impressive even today, and not merely as a precursor to Casablanca-era Bogart.

  • The Scarlet Empress (1934)

    The Scarlet Empress (1934)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) It may be a few decades in the past, but the working relationship between director Joseph von Sternberg and actress Marlene Dietrich remains a model of successful artistic collaboration. He knew how to build a film around her persona; she knew how to give him exactly what he wanted. They both launched their own careers in Germany with 1929’s The Blue Angel, then went on to make six great Hollywood films at the dawn of the sound age, of which The Scarlett Empress was the fifth. Compared to many other films of the time, this is a film worth digging into, as Garbo portrays the transformation of Russian Catherine the Great from innocent debutante to hedonistic empress. Taking advantage of the rapidly closing Pre-Code era, the film suggests plenty of salacious material with barely repressed glee. Visually, it’s absolutely sumptuous, with a high density of delicately crafted sets, lavish costumes and elaborate camera movements. You can see allegories for early-sound filmmaking, Sternberg’s career, female empowerment and social critique –the demonstration of which has already been completed by scholars far smarter than I am. It does make The Scarlet Empress quite a viewing experience, although the trade-off may be that the film is more interesting than enjoyable – that it’s more fun to discuss than to watch. That’s already not too bad – many films of that time can’t even pretend being worth a look today.

  • Destry Rides Again (1939)

    Destry Rides Again (1939)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) It can take a lot for a western film to grab me these days –it doesn’t help that there’s a seemingly infinite number of them in the Classic Hollywood catalogue. Also, perhaps more importantly, I don’t have any basic affection for the genre as I do for musicals or film noir – as a result, I tend to watch westerns and forget them almost immediately. But Destry Rides Again is slightly different. For one thing, it features none other than screen legends James Stewart and Marlene Dietrich in the lead roles – for another, it’s a somewhat less trigger-happy take on cleaning up a rowdy frontier town, with a baby-faced Stewart playing a deputy sheriff with an aversion to carrying or using a gun. (This being said, the film makes it crystal-clear that he’s an expert marksman when he wants to, which is a trope that frequently turns up in American “pacifist” fiction.) Meanwhile, Dietrich plays the femme fatale of the local drinking establishment, a powerful influence who could make or break the deputy sheriff’s efforts to get rid of the local lead hoodlum. The absolute highlight of the film comes when the two get involved in a saloon fight – or more specifically when she starts throwing objects at him and he’s bound not to answer in kind. Otherwise, Destry Rides Again does follow a generally satisfying narrative that promotes non-violence in the service of a taming-the-wild-west story. Or rather up to a certain point: true to form for American cinema, there’s a point where guns have to be used and bad people have to die. Still, the result is more memorable than many other westerns from the era.

  • Show Girl in Hollywood (1930)

    Show Girl in Hollywood (1930)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) There are two reasons to watch Show Girl in Hollywood, and both of them are historical. The first is a demonstration of how some classic stories have deeper roots than we can imagine. Even in 1930, here was a story about a young girl trying to make it in the movies, beating the first version of A Star is Born by a good seven years. Considering that it was such an early example, it’s no surprise if the plot beats are rough and obvious – saying that it’s cliché from beginning to end is evaluating the film against its countless imitators. (Digging into the film’s history, I see that it was preceded by an even earlier example of the form – 1928’s Show Girl.) Still, and this brings us to the second reason to watch Show Girl in Hollywood, there’s some charm in looking at how 1930s Hollywood looked, or portrayed itself as looking – The film being from Warner Brothers, it now travels ninety years in the future to reach us and show us a “vitaphone” premiere at the dawn of the sound era. Still, there isn’t much more than historical interest for modern viewers of this almost-forgotten film: there isn’t much humour or wit, the characters are featureless and the story has been done several times since then. But at least this is a ninety-year-old film that still talks about the evergreen pursuit of fame.

  • Mysterious Island (1961)

    Mysterious Island (1961)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) I first read Jules Verne’s L’Ile Mysterieuse as a kid and was thrilled at the result. It was, I think, the first real robinsonade that I encountered, and I kept marvelling at the way our desperate characters could manage to recreate civilization while stuck on an island in the middle of the Pacific. It was also the first novel that drove the point home of an imagined universe, as it eventually featured Captain Nemo of another Jules Verne novel. I’m much older and jaded now, but I was still disappointed at the 1961 adaptation of Mysterious Island. If I hadn’t read the novel, I probably would have been satisfied with the big-screen result. But having such vivid memories of the original worked against the movie – where were the details of their survival against all odds? What are giant stop-motion creatures doing in that story? Why is there a woman in the cast of characters? The answer to all of these questions, obviously, as found in Hollywood’s need to make movies thrilling, exciting and have at least one female role. In doing so, it transformed Mysterious Island from a novel of survival to a Ray Harryhausen special effects spectacle, simplifying as much of the plot in order to squeeze in more special effects sequences. I’m complaining on behalf of my younger self, but I can understand the impulse – and I note that nearly every single Classic Hollywoodian Verne novel adaptation has committed the same sins, sometimes ending with gold (20,000 Leagues Under the Seas) and sometimes with dreck (From the Earth to the Moon) and sometimes with something in-between (Journey to the Center of the Earth). Mysterious Island is somewhere in the middle – the addition of Harryhausen’s stop-motion special effects is almost always something wonderful to watch, and it does compensate for many of the shortcuts taken in order to fit a leisurely detail-packed novel into a film’s running time. I still think that the third act could have been improved, and the character of Nemo given a better send-off. But it’s been seventy years since the film’s release and it’s not healthy to obsess over the choices three generations removed. As mentioned, this ranks somewhere near the theoretical middle of Verne adaptations – generally faithful at first, then increasingly Hollywoodized. Audiences went to see it, and that’s what mattered then.

    (On Cable TV, August 2022) My first glance at Mysterious Island focused on the deviations from the classic Jules Verne novel: the addition of gigantic monsters animated in stop-motion by the legendary Harry Harryhausen, or two female characters. All of this is fun, but really not in the spirit of the film’s Robinsonade. A second glance at the film, however, is tempered by having seen many other old-Hollywood Verne adaptations far less faithful to the source material. So, yes, it goes down more easily a second time around: It’s essentially faithful to the original text if it wasn’t for the monsters and the women, and those monsters do add a spectacle to the bones of the story, while the female character stop the film from feeling too much like a boys’ club. Much of the first half-hour, in fact, is a too-leisurely adaptation of the original material that eventually gets to the island action. But after that, it’s got a steady series of thrills all the way to the linkage with Captain Nemo and the other Verne stories. (Alas, this being from Columbia rather than Disney, the opportunity to have James Mason reprise his 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea role as Nemo was sadly left unused.)  Director Cy Endfield does just fine with what was that era’s big-budget special-effects blockbuster, and the charm of the production ends up being very similar to the impression left by reading Verne’s adventures, updated to the big screen. I have seen much, much worse even if I’m limiting myself just to other Verne adaptations.

     

  • All That Heaven Allows (1955)

    All That Heaven Allows (1955)

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) The Douglas Sirk formula that felt so daring back in the 1950s has been completely absorbed by today’s movie mainstream – to the point of seeing even more daring movies on daytime TV. I’m sure that All That Heaven Allows must have felt slightly scandalous back in 1955 – after all, it’s about a wealthy widow who gets romantically involved with a blue-collar landscaper working at her house, with a full coop of hen tut-tutting the relationship as hard as they could in the confines of a small northeastern town. There are complications and a break-up, but since there’s at least half an hour left in the movie, we know it’s not going to remain that way. Tonally, All That Heaven Allows is very much a melodrama: musical cues and near-parodic acting clearly highlight what you were supposed to feel, which actually acts as a handy guide for modern audiences. Jane Wyman stars as the widow, but Rock Hudson earns most of the attention as the landscaper, an essentially perfect man solely held back by her peers’ opinion of people like him. Much of the film has aged ridiculously – this stuff would be the premise of a Hallmark channel romantic comedy these days, not an overwrought drama. (It doesn’t help that I still have vivid memories of Far from Heaven, obviously inspired by this.) But one thing has aged truly well, and that’s the super-saturated colour cinematography of the film. From the first moment of the movie, as the camera pans over a bright, colourful, lovely autumn landscape, this is a film that makes a strong and deliberate use of colour as emotional highlighting. It’s quite impressive even if you don’t care much about the plot, and that may actually be one of the best ways to see All That Haven Allows even today.

  • Le notti del terrore [Burial Ground] (1981)

    Le notti del terrore [Burial Ground] (1981)

    (In French, On Cable TV, August 2020) I’m seeing far too many early-1980s Italian grindhouse horror movies in too little time and they’re all blending together in my mind. It doesn’t help that they’re remarkably similar to one another in theme, tone, budget and plot. Burial Ground doesn’t strike too far away from its contemporaries: a haunted mansion, decaying undead, over-the-top gore effects and a narrative structure regrettably focused on “the kills” is pretty much what you need to know about the film and whether you want to see it or not. The plot goes all over the place, not particularly concerned with choosing between being a haunted house story or a zombie film. Perhaps the film’s most distinctive aspect is also its most stomach-churning, what with a boy with incestuous feelings with his mother soon turning to cannibalism. What can I say – Burial Ground is that kind of movie. It’s not quite as bleakly sadistic as some entries in the genre, and the emphasis on the zombies means that it’s a bit easier to take than some of the other movies focused on cannibalism, but we’re really slicing thin in terms of distinctions and degrees here: it takes a jaded audience indeed to start arguing about which kind of cannibalism is most unpleasant, and I fear that with every horror movie I watch I stray further and further away from the light. Well, all right, then.