Cyd Charisse

  • Five Golden Hours (1961)

    Five Golden Hours (1961)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) By the time the 1960s hit, Cyd Charisse was out of a persona — as wonderful as she could be playing the icy leggy dancer in MGM musicals, her acting range did not always extend gracefully to more demanding non-dancing roles. When the MGM musical died of overexposure in the late 1950s, her career did not immediately stop — she was attractive enough and had sufficient name recognition to parlay her presence in other films and genres but the results of her later work are not as transcendent as the films she’s best known for. In Five Golden Hours, for instance, we see her try her hand at comedy alongside noted comedian Ernie Kovacs, with George Sanders in a supporting role. The plot has a con man taking aim at Roman widows, but eventually facing women with sharper and deadlier instincts. The result is… mixed. While Kovacs gets a few opportunities to shine, much of the film is a disappointment — a bit weak, slightly mishandled in matters of tone, not quite as eager to fulfill its potential. In that light, Charisse’s presence also feels not-quite-there: her talent for beautiful ice princesses is a good portion of what the role requires, but she can’t quite go the extra mile to round off a character with hidden depths. Shot in Rome by Mario Zampi, Five Golden Hours does remain worth a look for Charisse fans — it’s generally amiable even when it doesn’t reach its goals, and you can watch it while knowing that Charisse also used her Italian trip to film the much better-known Two Weeks in Another Town.

  • Twilight for the Gods (1958)

    Twilight for the Gods (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) I like Cyd Charisse a lot, but let’s face it — it’s more for her beauty and dancing performances than for her limited acting skills, which barely budge from icy to reserved. Still, she does really well in late-career entry Twilight for the Gods, stuck onboard a slowly sinking steamship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with Rock Hudson and a motley crew of passengers who all have a secret to hide. There’s an admirably theatrical concision to how the action remains limited to the damaged ship, even as the cinematography makes the most out of its oceanic surroundings and sustains the film’s noticeable atmosphere. The gradual revelations about the passengers make for steady dramatic fuel, and the ending does cap off a nice harrowing journey. This being said: Twilight for the Gods is dramatic but not all that exciting, which does hint at ways the result could have been improved… if it wasn’t being so slavishly faithful to its literary origin. Despite the danger of the ongoing degradation of the ship, the film can’t quite bring danger to top off the excitement. There’s also a notable lack of action from the characters (primary and supporting) that annoys a bit — the tension of the film seems to be in waiting to see if they will outlast their trials, not which action they take to fight against the danger. Still, by the end of the film, it does feel like a journey completed. For Charisse, it’s one of her better dramatic roles — by the time this film was completed, it was clear that the classic MGM musical was losing steam (ooh, there’s a parallel) and that she needed to branch out even as she was aging out of the job. (Indeed, looking at her filmography, I can’t find any full-blown musical role after this film — Party Girl is an edge case, and her presence in Black Tights is only for a segment of the film.)  Twilight for the Gods is a decent movie — it could have been better, but nothing is worth complaining about too much.

  • The Mark of the Renegade (1951)

    The Mark of the Renegade (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) You can approach The Mark of the Renegade in a few different ways. Factually, it’s an early 1950s MGM western adventure set in Mexico, featuring Ricardo Montalban and Cyd Charisse. There are obvious Zorro similarities in the setup of a Mexican adventure featuring a lone adventurer fighting a local lord and romancing a luscious heroine — and we’re blessed by history that a dashing young Montalban plays him. (The similarities are not just me pulling out “um, Mexican adventure… Zorro!” out of a hat, considering that the film is based on a novel by Johnston McCulley, who created Zorro.)  As a Charisse fan, I’ll note that the film is one of the last of her pre-stardom days and the third I’ve seen in which this German-ethnic actress played a Mexican character. The two other films (Sombrero and Fiesta) also played on a similar register, purporting to bring some Mexican content to Hollywood but often perpetuating stereotypes. I would like to be a bit more enthusiastic about the swashbuckling adventure aspect of the film, but there’s not much here that’s overly memorable on that front. It’s more perfunctory than anything else, with the notable exception of a dance number between Montalban and Charisse — those two were dynamite together and The Mark of the Renegade is one of their hottest pairings. (I have seldom envied another man more than when seeing Montalban’s suave dance moves with Charisse and Ann Miller in 1948’s The Dancing Bandit, but I’m digressing.)  In other words — I’m happy that The Mark of the Renegade exists and it certainly has its strength, but it could have been much, much more memorable and it just isn’t. That’s really too bad: it’s watchable, but you may not remember much of it the next day.

  • On an Island with You (1948)

    On an Island with You (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) One of the differences between casual filmgoers and confirmed cinephiles is often the amount of meta-knowledge that the later carry around — including extensive knowledge of actors and their personas. That’s usually an advantage—except when it isn’t, for instance when an all-star cast comes together to produce something decidedly underwhelming. Such is the case with On an Island with You, a minor MGM musical of the late 1940s that brings together a truly interesting cast but doesn’t really do much with them. I mean: Esther Williams, Ricardo Montalban, Cyd Charisse and Jimmy Durante are four strong performers that could have been brought together in a way to play to their strengths. But what they get to do here is, at best, a pale shadow of their potential. With a script that’s only mildly funny or musical, On an Island with You struggles to establish itself as something worth remembering — the look at a film production is intermittently interesting, and doesn’t lead to any highlights. It’s probably important to note that MGM intended the film to be a success — while the film wasn’t part of their flagship Freed unit, it was shot on location in expensive Technicolor and clearly found a good audience during its theatrical run. But it clearly fell into disfavour since then — much better musicals with better roles for its stars followed, and its premise of having its female lead kidnapped by its male lead (assorted with misogynist remarks that would have most audiences up in arms) certainly hasn’t helped the film find new fans in the years since then. As a result, On an Island with You now ranks as a minor MGM musical, barely seen when compared to the better films of the era. Audiences aren’t wrong on this one, so beware if you’re tracking down the filmography of the actors involved. Too much knowledge can create false expectations!

  • The Unfinished Dance (1947)

    The Unfinished Dance (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) There are many intriguing elements in The Unfinished Dance that, by all rights, should make it a better film than it is. All of it revolves around ballet, and specifically a school where the young protagonist idolizes a dancer (played by Cyd Charisse, with her customary dancing excellence) and despises another, an obsession that soon leads to her causing an accident with life-changing consequences. Executed with all of the gloss of MGM musicals of the time but very little of the humour, it’s an excessively melodramatic film all the way to the weepy forgiveness that caps the film. I can see how the film is best suited to a specific public: Like The Red Shoes a year later, it’s a perfect film for young ballerinas and anyone else interested in the art form. But by being so exceptionally focused, The Unfinished Dance doesn’t quite manage to rally larger audiences, and the lack of humour doesn’t help either — although it would have been difficult to be otherwise considering the film’s central drama. Margaret O’Brien is quite good in the lead role, with Charisse providing dancing firepower when the film needs it and Karin Booth getting a rare prestige leading role as the other dancer, even though her lacks of dancing abilities are more apparent. While I don’t exactly dislike the result, The Unfinished Dance didn’t grab me as readily nor as profoundly as other musicals of the time — it’s a bit of a niche film, and I happen to be standing outside of it.

  • Meet Me in Las Vegas (1956)

    Meet Me in Las Vegas (1956)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) Film history tells us that the classical movie musical was losing steam by the mid-to-late 1950s, and you can almost sense this exhaustion at work in Meet Me in Las Vegas, a lavish MGM musical that took an interest in that new(ish) American playground — Las Vegas, conveniently close enough to Hollywood as to allow for extensive location shooting. The plot premise has something to do with a gambling rancher (Dan Dailey) falling for a lucky ballerina (Cyd Charisse, in one of the biggest roles of her career), but one senses that the point of the film was to use the flashy lights and growing reputation of Las Vegas as a backdrop to a movie musical. There are plenty of small appearances and cameos from people such as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin (anticipating the Brat Pack), as well as Peter Lorre and Tony Martin (who wasn’t a relation to Dean, but was married to Charisse). It also features Lena Horne’s last film appearance as a singing performer, which further buries the end of an era. Still, the film’s intended showcase sequence is a rather entertaining parody of “Frankie and Johnny” — even in a career full of highlights, this feels like an anthology piece designed for Charisse. For her, Meet Me in Las Vegas as a whole is one of her best and comes toward the end of her best run of movies as a headliner (the superior Silk Stockings would soon follow, but also mark the end of her MGM dancing/acting period): she gets some decent dance numbers, a substantial dramatic part and a character suited for her not-always-warm persona. If you get away from Charisse’s performance and the musical numbers (which are fewer in numbers than you’d expect from a 1950s MGM musical), the film doesn’t quite fare as well — while the atmosphere of circa-1956 Las Vegas is interesting in its own right and sometimes gorgeously captured, the film has frequent lulls and a finale that doesn’t quite hit the mark. As I said — the MGM musical was a specific kind of film, and it wasn’t necessarily well suited to tackling an environment such as Las Vegas. Director Roy Rowland was nearing the end of his career at the time, and so was the “Freed Unit” (of which Meet Me in Las Vegas was not a production). You can certainly see the film as stuck between two sensibilities — the earlier musical style and the younger brashness of the Vegas environment, whose musical style was not necessarily that of musicals.   Comparisons with Ocean’s Eleven, three years later, are most instructive in seeing how even the musical genre changed in order to accommodate Vegas.

  • Words and Music (1948)

    Words and Music (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) Hollywood based many musicals on the life of Broadway composers—you wouldn’t believe how many. On one level, the attraction is easy to understand: it’s a made-to-order way to insert musical numbers as part of the show, the rights to the music come in as a bundle, and audiences of the time presumably had fond memories of the tunes and their context. A modern equivalent would be the musical jukebox-musical biopic, which is alive and doing very well. On the other hand, Hollywood often mismanaged the material: The lives of the composers were often scrubbed of any detail that wouldn’t be acceptable by the Production Code (and considering the higher-than-average proportion of homosexuals as Broadway creatives, there’s an entire aspect of early Twentieth-century pop culture that simply isn’t covered in its Hollywood dramatizations). Nowadays, “Rodgers and Hammerstein” is a legendary duo of composers, but in 1948 the audience knew the duo as a still-fresh replacement for “Rodgers and Hart,” and Hart’s story is the one we see in Words and Music. Played by then former boy matinee idol Mickey Rooney, Hart’s character is not faithfully represented at all: Alcoholism and depression? Yes. Homosexuality? Again, no. (Which led to some hilarious reviews telling viewers that the film wasn’t accurate, but the reviews themselves were unable to specify why.)  Generally speaking, Words and Music is not all that interesting in its first half, as both the successes and the tragedy ramp up quite a bit in the second half once the duo makes their way to Hollywood and Hart’s self-destructive actions reach a tragic ending. From a musical fan’s perspective, the film (from the fabled Freed unit) is far more interesting at the edges than in the core of its story, because that’s where we find short appearances by MGM players such as Gene Kelly (dancing with Vera-Ellen in—yes—a gangster ballet), Judy Garland, Cyd Charisse and, far more strikingly, Lena Horne — Her first number “Where or When” is a sedate reminder about her talents as a signer, but then she starts tearing into “The Lady is a Tramp” and we know it’s the film’s single best number. Meanwhile, the central story of Hart and Rodgers unfolds along predictable lines all the way to the tragic ending. Rooney is not bad as Hart, with the movie making good use of his small stature in portraying a man complexed by his own short height. Words and Music is not near the top of MGM’s best musicals, and its appeal can be found in either appreciating the contributions of the bit players, or seeing this as the cleaned-up prequel to the far better-remembered Rodgers and Hammestein partnership. Either way, it’s a movie that is perhaps best defined by factors other than its main premise, which is a bit odd but not uncharacteristic of other second-tier MGM musicals at the time.

  • The Harvey Girls (1946)

    The Harvey Girls (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) I’m overdosing on Broadway musical comedies at the moment, so any musical comedy that heads out in a different direction is good news to me right now, and The Harvey Girls does offer a noticeable change of scenery—heading out west on a train, with a small crew of young girls ready to start working at the frontier Harvey House. Following the tangents of classic Hollywood movies is often as much fun as watching the movies themselves, and that’s how I ended up reading about the Harvey Houses (whose openings, as railway lines were extended throughout the 1880s, marked the arrival of modern comforts in the west) and the Harvey Girls (who often found husbands in frontier towns, further contributing to colonization). But little of that knowledge is essential to enjoying the song and dance numbers of the film. Judy Garland stars as a young woman seeking an engagement to a pen pal, with some support from notables such as Angela Lansbury (playing a dancehall madam), Cyd Charisse (in her first speaking role) and my own favourite Virginia O’Brien in what is best called a featured half-role. (The arc involving her character was cut midway through during the very long shooting due to her advancing pregnancy—but she gets “The Wild, Wild West,” a rather wonderful comic scene in which she sings in time with some blacksmithing and horse comfort.)  If you’ve been waiting for a film in which Garland, Charisse and O’Brien share a musical number—here it is, to the tune of “It’s a Great Big World” (even though Charisse is dubbed). The film’s biggest number is probably “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe” (which ended up being a national hit song), with an honourable mention to Ray Bolger’s energetic tap-dancing during “Swing Your Partner Round and Round.”  The combination of favourite actors, memorable numbers and a more original than usual setting makes The Harvey Girl at least a second-tier musical and a solid hit for MGM’s Freed unit. It’s decently funny, historically interesting (as per my extracurricular reading), and romantic enough to wrap things up when the comic numbers end. I wonder what kind of career O’Brien would have had if she had been able to complete her character arc here—The Harvey Girls came toward the end of her brief filmography, with only a few more roles (including the female lead in the following year’s Merton of the Movies) before the end of her MGM contract and disappearance from the big screen.

  • East Side, West Side (1949)

    East Side, West Side (1949)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2020) There’s a glorious, fascinating messiness to East Side, West Side that shows how the Hays Code era wasn’t necessarily an impediment for some heavy-duty melodrama. The film begins with a seemingly-happily married couple. But this façade soon comes tumbling down when, first, an ex-flame of the husband comes to town and then an ex-crush of the wife comes to town. That would be enough to power a film by itself, but the script peppers complications throughout, throwing in performers such as Cyd Charisse in a minor role that serves no real big purpose, then hinges an entire third act on the murder of one of the four main players, leading to a detective subplot that suddenly involves another main character. (It also leads to a fairly long and now-shocking sequence in which the male detective gets into a slaps-and-punches struggle with a female killer.) There are characters and sudden shifts of tone here that add a lot of texture, at the expense of what we would consider a polished script. It’s messy but a lot of fun, although you’ll have to work harder than usual to keep up with the twists and turns. An all-star cast sweetens the deal. James Mason is quite good in his own distinctive fashion as the protagonist cad, while Barbara Stanwyck is equally compelling as his increasingly estranged wife. Ava Gardner is the temptress that exposes the fault lines in their marriage, while Van Heflin rounds up the main cast with a character that increasingly reveals how resourceful he truly is over the course of the film. Top dialogue keeps things rolling, while the cinematography gives a noirish edge to New York City. Director Mervyn Leroy has enough experience to keep all the moving pieces together, and the result is a strong drama that will keep you invested from beginning to end despite its lack of clear focus.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, June 2021) The interesting thing about revisiting East Side West Side, even after a few months, is its all-star cast. In-between James Mason, Barbara Stanwyck, Eva Gardner and Van Heflin (with none other than Cyd Charisse being fifth-billed in a remarkably small role), it’s very much a collection of some of my favourite actors in the business at the time. But here’s the thing: It took me an embarrassingly long time to become a fan of Stanwyck and Gardner – While Mason is distinctive and easy to like, and a previous viewing of East Side West Side made me an instant fan of Van Heflin largely thanks to his remarkable character, it took me years to like Stanwyck given her lack of adherence to a rigid persona. Meanwhile, it took me until Night of the Lizard to finally see what others saw in Ava Gardner. But now that I’m on-board for all of them, East Side West Side takes on a different quality. Oh, the film more than stands on its own as a 1950s Manhattan melodrama – With the plot revolving around an ill-fitting couple contemplating affairs with past flames, it’s rife with dramatic situations, including woman-to-woman verbal combat and a superb mother-in-law-to-no-good-husband put-down. Mason is (as often) surprisingly good as a bad husband, while Heflin gets to play a character than, in most other movies, would be the protagonist: an immensely capable special forces operative with an uncanny ability to solve problems. One of the film’s highlights remains the physical altercation he gets with a murder suspect while they’re both sitting in a car – the fact that it’s a male/female fight is surprisingly shocking, perhaps even more so given that he’s clearly in the right in subduing a killer. The slapping, pulling and grabbing goes on for a surprisingly long time, and the close quarters of the car’s front seats mean that there’s nowhere to go. It’s not necessary to like the entire film (including a slow start and adequate finale) when it has those highlights and those stars. East Side West Side is well worth a revisit, especially if you get to appreciate the actors in other films in between those viewings.

  • Till the Clouds Roll By (1946)

    Till the Clouds Roll By (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, September 2020) Nominally a biopic about the life of composer Jerome Kern, Till the Clouds Roll By is perhaps best seen as an anthology showcase for MGM’s roster of musical talents. The story itself is perfunctory, largely fictional, and revolves around Kern’s best-remembered Show Boat. (Amusingly enough, Till the Clouds Roll By begins with a twenty-minute recreation of several of Show Boat’s set-pieces, years before MGM’s official adaptation—which also featured Kathryn Grayson in the same role.) There’s some additional resonance knowing that Kern died during filming—it’s too bad that his Hollywood years were scarcely covered here, the climax of the fictionalized story having occurred earlier. But that overall plot quickly gets forgiven and trivialized when you get down to the meat of the film, which is a series of nearly thirty musical numbers (some of them very short) featuring some very well-known names and fan favourites. The film gets off to a very strong start during its Show Boat sequence with performances by Kathryn Grayson, the always-funny Virginia O’Brien and a spellbinding Lena Horne. Later highlights include a surprisingly saucy Angela Lansbury, Dinah Shore, a trio of numbers by Judy Garland, Lucille Bremer with Van Johnson, a very short but still impressive dance number with Cyd Charisse, and a final rendition of “Ol’ Man River” by none other than a young Frank Sinatra. When you have such a strong cast of performers, the plot itself becomes inconsequential. While Till the Clouds Roll By doesn’t manage to create the alchemy required to become a great movie musical, it’s a strong collection of material and performers, and it will be best appreciated by those with some understanding (and appreciation) for the roster of mid-1940s MGM musical performers. [December 2021: Now that I’ve seen the 1951 version of Show Boat and read about its production, Till the Clouds Roll By becomes a precious document: a glimpse into an alternate reality where Lena Horne would have played the part that was so well suited to her rather than Ava Gardner.]

  • The Kissing Bandit (1948)

    The Kissing Bandit (1948)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) Movie history is not kind to The Kissing Bandit: It’s recognized by Wikipedia as “one of the least successful musicals in MGM history,” and “an acknowledged low-point in the careers of Frank Sinatra and Kathryn Grayson.” Is it such a terrible film, though? Of course not. While almost obscure these days, it’s quite entertaining to watch if you’re a fan of Technicolor MGM musical. Gorgeously shot against California mountains with very colourful costumes, the film clearly doesn’t take itself too seriously. The premise alone does a lot of mileage out of blending Robin Hood with Zorro as a Boston-educated young man comes back to 19th-century California to take over his father’s inn, only to discover that he’s expected to step into his father’s true occupation: leader of a masked gang, otherwise known as “the Kissing Bandit” for his habit of, well, kissing female victims. That premise wouldn’t fly today for obvious reasons, but even then—the film seems determined to minimize any unpleasant connotations this may have: our hero spends nearly all of the film shying away from any kissing, and the film spares no means (opening titles joke, comic sound effects, overacting) to let us know that this is a big broad comedy and nothing bad is ever going to happen. A young Sinatra with relatively long hair does well in the lead role, while Grayson is simply lovely as the governor’s daughter. Still, I’m burying the lead here because the single best reason to watch the film as far as I’m concerned is a single number toward the end of the film that has two of my biggest MGM crushes, Ann Miller and Cyd Charisse, in billowing dresses dancing a number with none other than Ricardo Montalban—whew! Let’s not argue that The Kissing Bandit is a great film—it has trouble with tone, and the rather promising opening act somehow doesn’t quite lead to a satisfying middle before the film picks up again toward the end. But it’s fun, funny and offers some great Hollywood stars doing some singing and dancing. Its relative obscurity may even mean that even fans of the era haven’t seen it yet.

  • Two Weeks in Another Town (1962)

    Two Weeks in Another Town (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) If you want to see the results of the Hollywood-on-the-Tiber era, during which Hollywood studios headed to Rome’s Cinecittà in order to take advantage of lower production costs and a studio built by Mussolini, then watch any of the dozen sword-and-sandal epic of the era. If you want a film about that filmmaking era, however, there’s Two Weeks in Another Town to bring back, a decade later, many of the main creative forces behind The Bad and the Beautiful in a thematic follow-up examining how Hollywood stars lived in their little Roman bubble far away from California. There are differences, obviously—Two Weeks in Another Town is in colour, and not quite as purely entertaining in its examination of Hollywood. But it does star Kirk Douglas as a washed-up actor trying to find a new place for himself in the movie industry, and a behind-the-scenes fictionalization of a difficult film shoot. Douglas is surrounded by notables such as Cyd Charisse (who’s not given enough to do), Edward G. Robinson (as a director at the end of his rope), and George Hamilton hilariously cast as a brooding artiste-type actor. While the film is interesting, it also has plenty of misplaced cues and darker themes that ensure that it’s not a feel-good film despite its hopeful ending. Studio meddling is apparently to blame for not delivering the core vision, but even in its adulterated form, the film features themes of suicide, professional uselessness, jealousy and isolation—all of which clash with the Dolce Italia atmosphere occasionally showcased. It’s a shame that some terrible rear-projection work takes away some of the late-film scene’s emotional effectiveness. Let’s just say that Two Weeks in Another Town gets about three-quarter of the way there—it’s interesting to give us a glimpse at an episode of Hollywood history, but not as great as it could have been had it figured out what it wanted to say and found a more disciplined way of telling it.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, June 2021) The “Hollywood on the Tiber” era is one of the most interesting episodes in film history – Hollywood going to Rome in order to take advantage of fiscal incentives and Cinecitta, a top-notch studio built by Mussolini as a propaganda instrument. Hence the slew of swords-and-sandals films of the early 1960s and the numerous American films somehow set in Rome in the 1960s. Two Weeks in Another Town is one of the few productions of that era to be about itself, as our troubled protagonist (Kirk Douglas, reliably fascinating as always) gets a new chance to help a friend complete a Hollywood production shooting in Rome. There are glimpses at moviemaking, dramatic situations alluding to the reality of how movies were made at the time, and characters almost entirely portraying a fictional film’s cast and crew. The rather good cast also helps, what with Douglas playing a recovering alcoholic former star actor, Cyd Charisse as his ex-wife, a young and trim George Hamilton as a rising actor, and Edward G. Robinson as an aging director. On paper, there are plenty of reasons why Two Weeks in Another Town shouldn’t work, starting with the lead character: Who should care about a former movie star putting back together his life after alcoholism? Who should care about Charisse’s character when she barely has any dialogue? The film was apparently cut short by fifteen minutes by the studio, and those seams are more blatant when you start looking at the dramatic structure of the film. But, fortunately, there’s quite a bit more to it – the focus on filmmaking is strong enough (similarities with The Bad and Beautiful are all over the place, from its theme to a shared team of creative leads) and the glimpse at the Hollywood on the Tiber era is frequently charming enough to create a bit of longing for what it must have been at the time. It’s also hard to go wrong with Douglas in the middle of it all – Two Weeks in Another Town probably wouldn’t have worked with another actor.

  • It’s Always Fair Weather (1955)

    It’s Always Fair Weather (1955)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) A very strong selling point for It’s Always Fair Weather is that it reunites a good number of people who worked on Singin’ in the Rain: Director Stanley Donen, choreographer-star Gene Kelly, dancer-actress Cyd Charisse, and so on—this was, after all, one of the “Freed Unit” musicals handled with impeccable craftsmanship by people who knew what they were doing. The lineage from Singin’ in the Rain to The Band Wagon to It’s Always Fair Weather is not only obvious—it’s playful and very much self-aware. There is a lot to like here: Many distinctive musical numbers (trashcan tap-dancing, roller-skate tap sequence, boxing-ring serenade), innovative filmmaking (decade-passing montage, triple-split screen), some cultural commentary (poking at the advertising culture of TV, with a live-confession climax that must have felt far more innovative back then), clever musical touches (such as the brilliant use of Blue Danube as an internal musical number) and a far more wistful tone than you’d expect from a 1950s movie musical. Plus, well, there’s Cyd Charisse—her green dress is wonderful, her first long scene in a taxi is a delight, and those are only two of the reasons why she gets here one of her most substantial roles—singing, dancing, comedy and romance, almost as much as in Silk Stockings. It’s not exactly perfect—the missed opportunity to make this a sequel to On the Town still rankles—but sometimes, even its flaws are endearing. The wolf-whistling bit, for instance, is awful by today’s standards, but it’s so dated, so overdone (and kind of cute) that it becomes hilarious. The 1950s were a very strong decade for musicals, and the production history of It’s Always Fair Weather suggests that this was the beginning of the end of an era at MGM, with slashed budgets and less interest in the result. No matter—I’m ranking this film high on my list of top 1950s musicals, and if it signals the end of an incredible streak, then it’s a pretty high note on which to go out.

  • Party Girl (1958)

    Party Girl (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) There’s a truly fascinating mix of ingredients in Party Girl: Cyd Charisse with a meaty dramatic role (her last contract role for MGM—indeed, one of the last contract roles in the entire studio system), director Nicholas Ray bringing his usual set of skills to a rather conventional story; Lee J. Cobb as another mobster; and Robert Taylor in a noticeably more dramatic role than usual. Some musical numbers, a few Prohibition-era plot points inspired by real life, expensive colour cinematography, expansive sets, and a plotline that gleefully mixes organized crime, barely-repressed prostitution, crooked lawyers and nightclub showbiz. By all rights, this should be quite a movie—alas, Party Girl merely settles for being just fine. It’s certainly watchable, and Charisse gets one of her last big-budget roles here—but most of the time, it fails to meet expectations as more than a standard mob-nightclub riff. Ray’s direction is competent, but fans of his deeper films may find something missing here. Maybe there’s too much going on; maybe it’s just not made of strong-enough writing. Maybe the actors were just a bit past their prime—no matter why, Party Girl is entertaining without being as memorable as it should be.

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) Frankly, I expected more of a gangster musical comedy featuring Cyd Charisse, director Nicholas Ray and a plot that brings together a fusion of chorus girls dance sequence and mobster drama. But Party Girl does not feel quite like a musical (too few musical sequences), nor quite a noir (there’s a happy ending), not quite a romance (not showing much heat between lead Robert Taylor and the notoriously restrained Charisse) and not quite a comedy (viz the criminal element not played for laughs). It is occasionally well directed and photographed in impressive colour, but somehow the elements don’t quite mix well. There’s probably an issue in Party Girl coming from the late-1950s, at a time of creative exhaustion by the studios (as per the film’s rote musical sequence, aware that the musical was fading away but not quite knowing what to do instead) but also an increasingly unworkable production code that couldn’t allow filmmakers to go where the story needed to go creatively. It’s certainly watchable, but also disappointing in the way it doesn’t fully use the material at its disposal. In many ways, Party Girl is more interesting as a last gasp of the MGM studio system (this was Charisse’s last film under contract and the next-to-last film for Taylor’s contract – they were the last two stars in the MGM firmament) than by itself.

  • The Silencers (1966)

    The Silencers (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2019) No doubt about it: The Silencers is a trip through time. First in the Matt Helm series of films made to lampoon the Bond series and featuring no less than Dean Martin, it’s like an authentic 1960s version of what Austin Powers was going for. Not as farcical, but certainly playing up the most ridiculous elements of the Bond formula: the women, the gadgets, the women, the lavish lifestyle, the women, the ridiculous villains and, of course, the women. (“NOT FOR CHILDREN,” shouts the poster after stating, “Girls, Gags and Gadgets: The Best Spy Thriller of Nineteen Sexty-Sex.”  But don’t worry—it’s tame by today’s standards.)  Rat-packer Martin is near-perfect as the suave womanizing agent Helm, whose conquests multiply throughout the movie. The women all look great, although classic Hollywood fans will be overjoyed to see the great Cyd Charisse strut her stuff in two dance sequences—her legs still go up to there, and she looks fantastic with longer hair. Don’t pay any attention to the plot, though: It’s all familiar plot devices meant to string the gags in the correct order, including a car fully equipped with a driver-accessible minibar and switch-activated privacy drapes for, well, whatever spies do in this kind of movie. Alas, the villain is pointlessly stereotyped along Fu-Manchu lines. Still, The Silencers is a big broad caricature, fully capturing a kind of spoof that would later be re-imitated. I watched it on a whim, attracted by the casting of Charisse, but ended up liking it quite a bit.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, June 2021) I thought I’d have another look at The Silencers after only a few months… if only to verify that my wild memory of the film wasn’t an invention. It wasn’t. Revisiting suave Bond-like secret agents in a hyperbolic fashion, this film stars Dean Martin as (what else?) a top-notch special operative who serially romances a succession of beautiful women (for late-1960s definitions of “beautiful” – despite Stella Stevens doing her best as a redhead, contemporary viewers may be more intrigued by Daliah Lavi as the bad girl with the black-and-white hairdo). If you see nothing else, simply watch the first fifteen minutes, which begins with three successive dance/stripping routines by sultry performers (the third being none other than Cyd Charisse), followed by an introduction to the protagonist at home, surrounded by fancy gadgets and bedroom partners. It’s wild enough that Austin Powers fans will feel at home. The weirdness doesn’t stop after that, what with Martin singing some of his standards at the drop of a hat (even tuning in the car radio away from Sinatra to his own song), and the villain being a rotund white guy made up to look Chinese. It all leads (as it should) to a villain’s lair confrontation. Clearly, The Silencers doesn’t take anything seriously and neither should you: it’s intended as a spoof of 1960s Bond movies and if it works despite the obvious sexism and racism, it’s largely because of Martin’s charm and the excessive nature of the gags. When the protagonist (who became a fashion photographer in retirement) daydreams about the girls of his photoshoots and the film briefly pauses to allow them to prance a little on screen, its unabashedly retrograde nature almost becomes cute. Much of the middle section of the film can’t quite measure up to the wild introduction or the cranked-up final act, but the result is not without distinction. Keep watching until the end of the credits, if only to see what’s been identified as the first post-credit comic sequence in the history of movies. (Although be aware – weirdly enough, the version of The Silencers shown on TCM apparently does not include that post-credit sequence, even if it’s well-documented online.)