David Niven

  • The Sea Wolves (1980)

    The Sea Wolves (1980)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2021) There’s an unmistakable aura of nostalgia surrounding The Sea Wolves, both in concept and execution. Not only taking 1980 Great Britain audiences to the glory days of World War II, it also features a variety of actors who peaked years before. Oh, sure, Roger Moore was at the mid-Bond tenure prime of his career at the time — but he was well into his fifties, and the other players in the film are none other than Gregory Peck, David Niven, and Patrick Macnee — all great actors, but all running on past glories. The plot has to do with older and semi-retired military personnel taking on Nazi radio transmissions off the coast of India, under the guise of being lost fishermen. The presence of Moore, not really playing much of a variation on his debonair persona, does lend some additional sense of adventure to the film, but it’s the older actors who are asked to carry much of the humour and adventure. There’s even a little bit of post-colonial wistfulness in taking in the Indian setting. While the story is adapted from a relatively obscure real-life incident, everyone will acknowledge the rather large liberties taken with the fact. The Sea Wolves does amount to a decent WW2 adventure in a somewhat classical mould — virtuous allies, perfidious Nazis, stiff upper-lip and a rather happy ending without anguish. It fits the bill for pleasant, not-too-demanding viewing, echoing other, somewhat better works from the actors involved.

  • The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

    The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2021) It’s really no accident if Anthony Hope’s Victorian adventure novel The Prisoner of Zenda was filmed two-and-a-half times: Once in 1937, a second time in a near shot-for-shot colour remake in 1952 (with James Mason) and again as one of the episodes in 1965’s The Great Race, although the pie-throwing bit in that last example was most definitely not in the original novel. It’s a very solid action-adventure romance hitting the full four-quadrant spectrum, what with an Englishmen being drawn, due to his close resemblance to the sovereign of another nation, into a web of romance, attempts to capture the throne and (crucially) impersonation of the incapacitated sovereign. It’s all quite good, and much of the fun in having several versions is in looking at the casting. Here, we do have an intriguing selection of 1930s stars, from Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Ronald Coleman, Mary Astor and a very young David Niven. The inclusion of romance and fencing ensures that the film will appeal broadly, and remains an enjoyable piece of entertainment today. It’s technically acceptable by the time’s standards, but it’s the story that carries it even today.

  • A Kiss in the Dark (1949)

    A Kiss in the Dark (1949)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) Short and perfunctory, A Kiss in the Dark works best as a showcase for David Niven and Jane Wyman, as he plays a concert pianist who discovers he’s the owner of a slightly dilapidated apartment building in Manhattan. Investigating the situation, he comes to meet the eccentric tenants and finds himself captivated by the cutest of them all (Wyman, obviously). As a comedy film, it runs a bit long even at 87 minutes — the narrative arcs are familiar, from the easily-resolved romantic triangle to the workaholic-no-more theme to the bellowing tenant tortured into submission. (Wait, what? Well, yes — the film does suffer from a bit of protagonist-centred morality in how a tenant is cruelly sleep-deprived. You’d argue that he had it coming by punching the protagonist in the first place, but that only raises more disturbing questions as to why the film seems so fond of its characters frequently punching each other in the face and why the police aren’t brought in for assault charges.)  This is not sophisticated stuff, although Niven’s stereotypically British persona and Wyman’s attractiveness will make anyone overlook most of the film’s flaws. It’s also fun to see Broderick Crawford in a supporting role as a cranky-and-violent antagonist. Still, there simply isn’t enough in A Kiss in the Dark (not the best title!) to stay interesting. Despite the building’s 53 tenants, the film focuses on too few of them and pads its comic scenes with too much repetition. There’s some chemistry between the leads and it’s all too likable to dislike… but this is an average comedy as best, one that just happened to star compelling performers.

  • Please Don’t Eat the Daisies (1960)

    Please Don’t Eat the Daisies (1960)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2020) There’s a lot to like in Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, whether it’s the pairing of Doris Day and David Niven, the story of a Manhattanite family moving to a fixer-upper in the country, or a farce about a theatrical critic reaping the rewards (and perils) of fame. Combined with bright clean 1960s cinematography, the film becomes a solid comic hit—not quite a classic, but good enough to sustain amused viewing. Day not only gets to play comedy, but play and sing a little big (including a bit of “Que Sera, Sera”), while Niven is his usual unflappable self even when he’s being flapped. The multiple subplots (adapted from a book of comic essays by Jean Kerr) are enough to keep the film going through its running time, but there’s a lack of cohesion to the entire enterprise, with the spot light moving from one strand of narrative threads to another without quite bringing it together, either during the film itself, or in what’s supposed to be a big finale. Please Don’t Eat the Daisies could have been quite a bit better, but it’s rather charming in its current state, and not a bad moment in Day and Niven’s company.

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) A second look at Please Don’t Eat the Daisies with a few added months’ worth of Doris Day appreciations means that the focus of the film shifts a bit—While it’s always fun to see David Niven as a pompous theatrical critic experience various issues at a critical junction in his life, a second viewing is free to go past the obvious showmanship of Niven’s performance to dwell on Day’s solid turn and help distinguish the very different halves of the film’s structure. Much of the fun of the film remains intact, having to do with a Manhattan-based theatrical critic (Niven) who finds himself forced to move out in the far suburbs ninety minutes away from Manhattan and face a few professional challenges while that’s going on. The film somewhat changes gears halfway through, and while that initially feels like a let-down of sorts if the urban lifestyle drew you in, it works a little bit better when you expect it the second time around. What’s clearer as well is how this second half suits Day’s character: The film is clearly meant to be a vehicle of sorts for her as well: while the role first highlights her innocuous domesticity as it begins in the city (where her husband is the toast of the town), the last half of the film gets more and more focused on her strengths—keeping house and playing with kids, yes, but also dancing and singing as only a popular singer could do. (Her rendition of “Que Sera Sera” is even featured.)  Meanwhile, the lack of judgment from Niven’s character gets harder to ignore or dismiss: Never mind the pompous mannerism that the film associates with the profession of a critic, it’s his entire behaviour that becomes suspect the moment he steps away from Manhattan, getting in a pointless argument at his kids’ school and playing with matrimonial fire with a once-criticized actress. I can appreciate the parallels with Mr. Blandings Build his Dream House as well—but I’ve long been fascinated with the idea of renouncing to live in Manhattan.

  • Rose-Marie (1936)

    Rose-Marie (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2020) If I was in a cheeky mood, I could try to use the 1936 version of Rose-Marie to make a point about American cultural appropriation of Canadian iconography, and there are quite a few howlers in there. Rose-Marie (second of three versions of the same story, following a 1924 silent version and prior to a colour version in 1954) is about a singer searching for her criminal brother in the Canadian wilds, accompanied by a tall and handsome Mountie. It’s a musical, but musically, it draws its inspiration more from opera than Broadway musicals—the protagonist, like Jeanette MacDonald, is a soprano, and most of the songs (including the signature “Indian Love Call”) are very much tailored to classical singers. That means that the lighthearted comic tone that we often associate with musicals of the period is sorely toned down here—it’s a romance first, and a comedy merely by virtue of not ending horribly. It does satisfy, I suppose, but then there’s my maple-leaf emblazoned axe to grind. Playing with “Canadian references” as shoddily as any other non-Californian culture, Rose-Marie quickly accumulates howlers. The opening sequence has the protagonist being greeted warmly by the Premier of Québec, with the language question being almost completely absent in their exchange. (Well, she does sing Romeo and Juliet in phonetic French, but that’s it.) The English-French language question remains almost completely removed from the rest of the film, but there are more visual absurdities to take care of, including our protagonist travelling to “Northern Québec,” which has the backdrop of the Rockies mountains. The musical montage “The Mounties” is oddly affectionate in singing about how they always get their men, but we’re clearly playing with a bunch of Canadian clichés thrown in a blender at this point. It gets much, much worse once the native characters are introduced, with Eastern tribes wearing Prairies-type headgear and dancing around Western totems. My brain, normally adept at ignoring such cultural absurdities, basically broke down at this point and I’m not sure if I remember much more of the rest of the film than an early (and somewhat atypical) role for a young James Stewart as the protagonist’s criminal brother. (There’s also David Niven as a suitor, but he’s barely in the film.) Although I definitely remember the numerous howlings of “Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo When I’m calling you Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo Will you answer too? Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo, Oo-Oo-Oo-Oo.” I won’t even discuss the Metis character (or, for that matter, the Mountie) to spare you some harsh language. But let’s acknowledge one thing—Rose-Marie itself is somewhat innocuous: we know where it’s going, and it’s not because the film was shot in the Sierra Nevada’s Lake Tahoe passing itself for “Lake Chibougam” (an obvious bastardization of Chibougamau) that the rest of the film has to be thrown away. If you’re willing to be amused at its absurdities, it’s even charming in its own quaint way. Heck, it’s kind of interesting to feel first-hand the same kind of cultural indignation that other cultures must feel every time Hollywood comes playing in their cultural backyard: It does recalibrate the debate.

  • Murder by Death (1976)

    Murder by Death (1976)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (CTV Streaming, July 2020) I recall seeing bits and pieces of Murder by Death as a kid, so I was more than curious to re-watch the film, only remembering that it was about parodies of fictional detectives being set up to solve the perfect murder. Going in the film otherwise almost entirely unaware, I was amazed at the cast of the film: Peter Sellers, Alec Guiness, Peter Falk, David Niven, Maggie Smith and none other than a very young James Cromwell! Then I was bowled over once over again, as I recognized the archetypes they were playing—Falk imitating Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade, Niven as a pitch-perfect incarnation of William Powell’s Nick Charles, and so on. I could have done without the casual racism of Sellers’ Charlie Chan, but it does get us the rather wonderful spectacle of having him going toe-to-toe with his inspiration Alec Guiness in a scene or two. None other than Truman Capote shows up as the main antagonist of the film, setting up a perfect murder that none of the world-class detectives will be able to solve. As Murder by Death is working from a Neil Simon script, you can expect a steadily amusing script and dialogue—although the film doesn’t quite get as hilarious as it could have been. The structure of the story seems lopsided as well, with a very long time spent on introductions and setting up the premise, then zipping to a conclusion. It doesn’t get any better once we realize (after an android or two) that the film is absolutely not meant to make conventional narrative sense. There are six successive plot climaxes in a row getting more and more absurd, the joke being turned on the viewers expecting this comedy to make any kind of narrative sense. Murder by Death becomes a letdown after such a promising start, but the result is still worth a look if only for the cast and the playfulness of the script as it charges forward, determined to upend most expectations.

  • A Matter of Life and Death (1946)

    A Matter of Life and Death (1946)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2020) The more I discover the Powell/Pressburger filmography, the more I’m impressed by their sense of style, humour and capacity to create sustained narrative interest. A Matter of Life and Death is the fifth of their films that I’ve seen and liked, and as it explores the afterlife as an aviator unexplainably survives a fatal crash, it’s probably the most ambitious of them. Filled with fantastic imagination, it’s also a surprisingly funny film, as the aviator continues to live and gets embroiled in a celestial court case to decide his fate. The interplay between reality and fantasy is very well done, and David Niven is terrific in the lead role (Marius Goring is not too far behind as a Frenchman trying to help the protagonist through his afterlife). A Matter of Life and Death is quite an impressive piece of fantasy filmmaking both from a visual and a narrative standpoint, and it remains somewhat original even decades later. The special effects are rough, but the script definitely has its moments.

  • Separate Tables (1958)

    Separate Tables (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2019) It’s interesting how various genres of film age well (or not) due to different factors. Something often underestimated is thespian intensity, especially in those movies designed to be actor showcases. Separate Tables starts from strong dramatic material, being adapted from a pair of short theatre plays. This is most clearly seen in the strong dramatic unity of the result, taking place over a few days in a secluded hotel where two pairs of guests have largely separate subplots. On one side, a man (a typically intense Burt Lancaster) has to pick between his nice new girlfriend and his shrewish ex-wife (Rita Hayworth, glammed up to the point where she can be mistaken for Grace Kelly). The dialogue pyrotechnics here occasionally suggests Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?, with a conclusion that may surprise you. On the other main subplot, an officer with a mystery past (David Niven, up to his high standards) beguiles a spinster (Deborah Kerr, strongly de-glammed) trying to get away from the influence of her mother. The addition of a bit of romantic comic relief between two young lovers helps ease into the film before the dramatic intensity starts. Under Delbert Mann’s direction, the film benefits from clean images, unobtrusive direction and full leeway for actors to deliver on the material. The result was nominated for nine Academy Awards (including Best Picture) and won two acting awards. Clearly, this showcase certainly worked, and it helps Separate Tables to be worth a look even today.

  • Wuthering Heights (1939)

    Wuthering Heights (1939)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2019) 1930s Hollywood adaptation of literary classics are a specific category, but Wuthering Heights is in a category of its own even as a novel. Dismantling the archetype of the vengeful romantic hero, it presents protagonist Heathcliff as an obsessive monster destroying everyone’s lives in order to get what he wants. The glossy Hollywood adaptation, by necessity, does muddle the portrait: it lops off the more disturbing second half of the book, softens a few edges and provides a tragic romantic happy ending of sorts to the lead couple. (This being the second time in a few weeks that a classic Hollywood adaptation of a literary landmark features the heroine dying in the hero’s arms, I’m suddenly curious about the device.)  Being what it is, Wuthering Heights doesn’t completely delve into the most unsavoury aspects of the protagonist’s issues, although even a cursory viewing establishes that neither of the protagonists are particularly admirable in any way. For movie fans, there’s a certain pleasure here in seeing a young and dashing Laurence Olivier playing a cad opposite the beautiful Merle Oberon, or an even younger David Niven in an early role as another suitor. To contemporary viewers, the heightened melodramatic tone of the film can have a certain deliciousness, even if ironic. The film certainly won’t be much of a primer for a novel that keeps going for an entire generation after the events depicted in the film. Still, Wuthering Heights remains a landmark of sorts, and the period atmosphere is worth a brief time-travel trip.

  • Dodsworth (1936)

    Dodsworth (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) Much of the interest in exploring classic films is not only experiencing solid movies that have wowed past audiences, but measuring them against our own modern standards, and seeing how some of them still make an impression even through decades of changes. Dodsworth is a more interesting case than many—it clearly reflects the standards of the 1930s, but it still manages to surprise through some unusual character work that goes beyond clichés and easy stereotypes. The story starts once a small-city mogul sells his company, with the hazy goal of doing nothing for the rest of his life, spending time with his wife and visiting faraway destinations. That’s already an interesting character (even though he’s warned by others that he won’t like a loafing retirement), but the situation becomes even more complex once his wife makes it clear that she does not approve of that plan. As is often the case, retirement doesn’t suit the couple, who steadily drift apart in many ways (none as simplistic as “he wants this, she wants that”—these are multifaceted characters, and so are their conflicts) until a mutual breakup that ends up confirmed by the end of the film. Walter Huston stars as the title character with Ruth Chatterton taking on the ingrate role of his wife, and small appearances from Paul Lukas and David Niven as suitors. Some 1930s tropes are indissociable from Dodsworth—the romance of long-distance cruises as the best way to cross the Atlantic, the details about the early decades of the automobile industry, the lingering remnants of the European class system as intertwined with the aristocracy, and the cut-and-tried gender roles of an American marriage: There’s a supposedly playful line said from the wife to her husband, “Will you beat me?” that betrays a whole lot. At the same time, there’s no clear gender stereotype here between the husband wanting to step away from workaholism, and the wife gladly lusting after other men. The characters are strong enough to avoid clichés, and I have some respect for the way Dodsworth makes the wife a gradual villain without quite becoming misogynistic. (Viewers are clearly meant to identify with the fun-loving husband rather than the wife increasingly revealed to be an arriviste.)  There’s also something intriguing in the way director William Wyler ensures that the story—adapted from a theatrical play, even if that filiation is nearly obscured by the film’s globetrotting settings—makes upper-class ennui relatable by asking itself what would happen if people would be free to do that they wanted without artificial obstacles, and letting things play out. There are plenty of timeless lessons here even for modern couples, and it’s such things that ensure that Dodsworth remains relevant and interesting even after eight decades.

  • The Bishop’s Wife (1947)

    The Bishop’s Wife (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) There have been many charming Christmas movies, but The Bishop’s Wife has the undeniable advantage of featuring Cary Grant as an impossibly suave angel come down to Earth to resolve a bishop’s problems. Complications ensue when the bishop’s wife proves irresistible to him—although, this being a 1940s movie, it’s all handled tastefully. Grant couldn’t be better as the angel and completely steals the movie, whereas David Niven is good in the ungrateful role of the bishop (he was originally supposed to play the angel, but Grant was the better choice) and Loretta Young is luminous as the bishop’s wife. A few interesting special effects reaffirm that this isn’t a realistic Christmas movie. Easy to watch and imbued with a decent amount of Christmas spirit, The Bishop’s Wife is still worth a look today.

  • The Pink Panther (1963)

    The Pink Panther (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2018) The biggest surprise about The Pink Panther is that it turns out to be an ensemble bedroom romp with a limited role for Peter Sellers’s Inspecteur Clouseau—and, in fact, he gets played like a fool for the entire film, with a conclusion that doesn’t do the character much good. Sellers did such a striking job with the role that later instalments, starting with the follow-up A Shot in the Dark, would develop the Clouseau mythology in earnest. In the meantime, what we have here is a tangled mess of characters lusting for one another, with Clouseau unaware that his wife (the lovely Capucine) is carrying an affair with the master thief (the wonderful David Niven) that he’s chasing. Meanwhile, the gentleman thief is trying to seduce a princess (Claudia Cardinale!) who own the titular diamond, while his nephew is also trying to seduce Clouseau’s wife. It takes a diagram to figure it out, but fortunately the film is much easier to absorb as it gradually introduces its character as they converge on a European ski resort. Comedy director legend Blake Edwards slowly tightens the funny screws, culminating in a bedroom sequences in which characters hide under the bed and exit through windows while Clouseau remains blissfully unaware of how many pretenders his wife has within purring distance. It takes a while to get going and does end on a less jolly note, but the ski resort sequence of the film is a small success in creating a sexy comic atmosphere. Even out-of-nowhere moments, such as Fran Jeffries crooning an Italian song around a communal fireplace, are more charming than puzzling. Niven does stellar work here as an impeccable gentleman thief, but Sellers was simply spectacular enough that the series would therefore focus on him. So it goes—plans never unfold exactly as everyone thinks they will, especially in the Pink Panther universe.

  • Casino Royale (1967)

    Casino Royale (1967)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, September 2018) On paper, I’m sure Casino Royale was a great idea. In fact, the film does work better from a conceptual viewpoint than a practical one … which is a fancy way of saying that the film is a mess. From a cold viewing, the film makes no sense: it’s an attempt to satirize Bond, and it goes off in all directions at once, making failed jokes in multiple segments that barely relate to whatever plot we can identify. Some moments are funnier than others, and the high-spirited finale is pure comic chaos (in the good sense of the expression), but much of the film simply falls flat. Coherence is a major issue when entire scenes have their own idea of what humour is, and when the actors aren’t following the same plan. And what a list of actors! A young Woody Allen, a remarkably fun Orson Welles goofing off with magic tricks, First Bond Girl Ursula Andress playing (a) Bond, David Niven as “The original” Bond (before Connery ruined the name), Jean-Claude Belmondo for thirty seconds and a bunch of other cameos. Peter Sellers is occasionally fun, but he seems to be acting in another film entirely. The film’s production values are high enough that we’re left to contemplate a bizarre result, clearly made with considerable means but without a coherent plan. What to make of it? The key to understanding Casino Royale is to read about the film’s unbelievable production. It started with the intention of copycatting Connery’s Bond film series through the rights of Fleming’s first Bond novel, but was realigned to a satirical comedy once Connery made himself unavailable. Then, for some reason, the film became a creation from five different directors, with a sixth trying to patch the gaps between the sequences. Then Peter Sellers, who wanted to play a dramatic Bond, started sabotaging the production before leaving it entirely before his scenes were completely filmed. Given all of this, it’s a minor miracle if Casino Royale makes even the slightest sense. That doesn’t make it a good movie (although there are maybe twenty minutes of good comedy here, as long as you keep only the scenes with Sellers, Welles and Allen) but it certainly explains how we got there. There may have been messier productions and movies out there, but Casino Royale is a case of its own. (I saw the film as a young teenager, but the only moment I remembered from it was Allen’s line about learning how to tie women up in the boy scouts. Go figure. Or don’t, given that I was a boy scout.)

  • Around the World in Eighty Days (1956)

    Around the World in Eighty Days (1956)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2017) Watching some films from bygone days is almost an anthropological experience. Not just for what’s shown on-screen, but what led to what’s shown on-screen. Around the World in Eighty Days is one such curio, not only portraying the world of 1872 as seen from 1956 (84-year difference), but also telling us much about 1956 Hollywood from today’s perspective (61-year difference). The basics of the film are simple enough, adapting Jules Verne’s globetrotting adventure tale into a lavish three-hour-long spectacle. But it’s the way it is put together that captivates as much as the narrative of the story. Famously filled with cameos, Around the World in Eighty Days regularly grinds to a halt as then-famous faces grin at the camera to remind us that they’re in the movie. Of course, sixty years later, it’s hard to identify most of them unless you’re a dedicated movie buff: what remains are nearly incomprehensible skits revolving around famous people without us knowing that they’re famous people. (The Fernandel and Frank Sinatra examples are particularly egregious, except that Sinatra is still somewhat recognizable.) David Niven is good but occasionally inscrutable as the main character, while Cantinflas (wildly popular then, almost unknown now) is a revelation as Passepartout. Around the World in Eighty Days remains strange and kind of charming in its own way. What’s not quite so funny is the cavalcade of ethnic stereotypes that parade through the entire film. Nobody escapes unscathed, whether it’s the British (eccentric to a fault, and never willing to sacrifice tea in the middle of a crisis) or the Americans (frontier barbarians obsessed with electioneering) or any of the non-English-speaking nationalities. The Native-American segments are particularly tough to watch, but by no means the only uncomfortable moment in the movie. Still, the film moves with a decent amount of action, humour and scenery—while largely filmed on Hollywood studios, the production did spend a lot of effort to make sure that the details were correct, and did travel to foreign countries in order to capture establishing shots. The result is one-of-a-kind. I’d normally welcome a remake, except that a loose comedic remake was completed in 2004 and has since already sunk away from view so thoroughly that I still haven’t seen in on TV or any of the major streaming platforms after a year of searching. In the meantime, the original Around the World in Eighty Days remains available for anyone’s viewing pleasure, but if there’s a film that screams out for pop-up notes, it’s this one.