Elia Kazan

  • The Last Tycoon (1976)

    (On TV, December 2022) You have to be a pathological fan of classic Hollywood to get any enjoyment out of The Last Tycoon—even if the sight of Robert de Niro as a 1930s studio executive may be good enough for some. Not that he’s the only known name in the credits: The cast lists about half a dozen other familiar actors, from Tony Curtis to Robert Mitchum, Jack Nicholson, Jeanne Moreau and others (plus a very young Anjelica Huston). What’s more, the film comes with an impressive origin story: based on a Harold Pinter screenplay adapted from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s last unfinished novel, directed by the legendary Elia Kazan (for whom this would be his last film), and produced by the equally legendary Sam Spiegel. But the great cast, crew and pedigree create expectations that the film can’t match. While The Last Tycoon offers a few pleasures in re-creating the working conditions of a classic Hollywood studio in a way that should make film fans happy, there’s something staid and overly mannered in result. By focusing on a studio executive, the film perpetuates a very privileged vision of the movie industry’s early years—something made worse by the central romantic pursuit of a younger actress by an older studio executive. (Even if De Niro was only five years older than Ingrid Boulting.)  But the film itself is noticeably inert—what should have been dramatic sequences are perfunctory, and the dull dark-brown colour scheme of boardroom scenes makes everything look dimmer and duller than it should. Despite a few promising elements, a top-notch cast and some incredible filmmakers at the helm, The Last Tycoon ends up an unmitigated disappointment. Sure, you get de Niro acting opposite Nicholson for the only time in their careers, but at the cost of a film that scarcely manages to justify its own existence. Bits and pieces of it are interesting, but hardly essential.

  • Boomerang! (1947)

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) While the 1947 version of Boomerang is a respectable crime drama shot in semi-documentary style (and not to be confused with the 1992 romantic comedy), I’d classify it more as an interesting film rather than a purely enjoyable one. Taking a real-life crime story and adapting it in a way that skirts cinema-vérité decades before the term was invented, it goes for a sombre, sober approach… without necessarily denying itself a Hollywood flourish or two. The story is set in a sleepy northeastern town, where the brutal murder of a priest whips up a fury for retribution: all that stands between an out-of-towner and the electric chair (or worse—summary lynching) is a plucky public defender (Dana Andrews) doing his job. The usual histrionics are brought down a notch here—Director Elia Kazan (later to attain fame and infamy in equal measures) treats his subject matter with respect, and the film is designed to err more on the side of social drama than courtroom histrionics… even if it can’t help itself at times. The result may not be as nakedly entertaining as what else Hollywood was doing at the time, but it feels competent and even exciting—although the unresolved nature of the crime that starts the plot inserts an odd sliver of realism in a film that otherwise celebrates the success of the judicial process. Boomerang is not a bad watch, although viewers should be forewarned (or hyped) that it’s not quite the same Hollywood formula that was in use at the time.

  • Baby Doll (1956)

    (On Cable TV, April 2022) I’m not sure how many Tennessee Williams-inspired 1950s black-and-white dramas I still have to watch, but Baby Doll isn’t going to become one of my favourite Williams adaptations. Much of my reluctance comes from a refusal to engage with a story in which nearly everyone is nasty to everyone else all the time. That gets old, and I’m on the market for more uplifting material at the moment. The story takes us in deep rural Mississippi, where two feuding cotton farmers take escalating means toward each other – one burns the other’s field down, which is met by the other farmer seducing the first farmer’s teenage bride. But don’t feel too sorry for her given the bad treatment she gives to her husband and the overall nastiness of the film. As with other Williams-inspired dramas, Baby Doll was a bit of a sensation back in the 1950s – the topic matter went beyond what was considered acceptable, and having a teenage actress parade in a babydoll nightgown (legend has it that the film named the clothing) while the narrative repeatedly insisted on the seduction of the childlike character had authorities in a moral tizzy. (I suspect it would be even worse today.) Director Elia Kazan handles everything with his usual touch, allowing the three main actors — Karl Malden, Carroll Baker and Eli Wallach—to bite into the dramatic material. Baby Doll is a drama all right, but it may take a specific frame of mind to get the most out of it.

  • Viva Zapata! (1952)

    Viva Zapata! (1952)

    (On TV, September 2020) The best reason to watch Viva Zapata is for Marlon Brando, and Marlon Brando is probably the best reason not to watch the film as well. Of course, that statement will hinge a lot on how you feel about Brando playing a Mexican revolutionary through a mixture of a stereotypical accent and quite a bit of mumbling. I pretty much loathed it (in keeping with a surprisingly large chunk of Brando’s filmography), and that’s probably where my review should stop. Alas, there’s more to it. Directed by Elia Kazan, featuring an Academy Award-winning supporting performance by Anthony Quinn and a screenplay by John Steinbeck (plus Daryl F. Zanuck producing), Viva Zapata is no lightweight fly-by-night production: It was intended as a prestige film, and the two things preventing the film from being recognized as an epic 1950s film are its restrained length (less than two hours) and black-and-white cinematography. It surely plays fast and loose with the historical facts—Zapata here is presented as a populist folk hero, illiterate (which wasn’t true) and utterly unremarkable from a political point of view. Worst of all is the somewhat tepid pacing and lack of sustained interest. At least Quinn is reasonably authentic. As for the rest of Viva Zapata—well, can you stand two hours of Brando mumbling? Some think that’s the best thing ever; others will want to claw their way to the exit.

  • Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

    Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) For all the flack that Hollywood social-issues drama films often get as insincere, award-begging performative exercises, they certainly can help chart the social evolution of the United States throughout the decades. Gentleman’s Agreement, having won a Best Picture Oscar (albeit being one of the most obscure winners of the award), can be considered a successful A-grade social-issues drama, and it does make for intriguing viewing. Gregory Peck is in fine likable form as a writer who, as an assignment in a new city, tells everyone he’s Jewish. Antisemitism being the topic of the film, you can imagine how well that goes: Ostracism, prejudice, snide remarks, exclusion, fights with his girlfriend and so on. Taking place in upstate New York fine society makes it more infuriating. By focusing as much on the bigotry than on the duty to stand up to bigotry, the film remains effective despite a few naïve moments and on-the-nose messages: nobody likes to think of themselves as bigot, but it’s not as obvious to be against bigotry, especially given the so-called “grown-up” desire to get along and not be perceived as a troublemaker … as happens to the protagonist here. It’s not a perfect film: the romantic ending seems to come out of nowhere—especially since the film seems to play with presenting a suitable alternative to the proudly prejudiced fiancée. It’s also a bit unlikely that a man of the world such as the lead character would be initially surprised at the prejudice he encounters as a self-proclaimed Jew—the film becomes more effective once it dispenses with the first few early scenes to show the tension in being part of that social circle and yet making sure that it is restricted from “these people.”  Finally, there’s the issue of “temporal inconvenience” that has dogged majority representation of minority issues, but let’s stop there—Gentleman’s Agreement was daring enough in 1947 that it should be assessed kindly. Few other actors than Peck or director Elia Kazan would be able to pull off the righteousness of his protagonist without coming across a sanctimonious and that ultimately is what separates Gentleman’s Agreement from other, less successful films. (There’s also the prestige A-list star treatment to help make sure this was the winning pick rather than the same year’s film noir Crossfire, but that’s an entirely different review…)

  • America America (1963)

    America America (1963)

    (On Cable TV, January 2019) It’s always interesting when a filmmaker uses the tool of their craft to tell us a story about themselves or their family. Here, we have veteran writer/director Elia Kazan helming a production (adapted from his own book) telling all about how his uncle made it from Turkey to America, with numerous obstacles along the way. It’s both a foreign film and a deeply American one, illustrating the underdog immigrant mythology that anyone is welcome to the United States and that opportunities await those willing to work for it. Viewers should be warned that America America is long: nearly three hours, and almost all of them spent in the company of the central character, in a magnificent lead performance by Stathis Giallelis—who has nearly no other screen credits to him filmography. The black-and-white cinematography does seem like a missed opportunity to present the story in an even more expansive format, but it’s easy to remain impressed by this effort to put on film a piece of Kazan’s family history.