George Peppard

  • The Strange One (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2022) The 1950s are not known for disquieting cinema—the Hollywood studios still being under the grip of the Production Code, the audiences not asking for anything more, and the social mores of the time being somewhat (but not entirely) conservative, truly upsetting 1950s cinema is a rarity even in watered-down format. But there was some steam gathering under the staid façade: an intention to adapt more daring novels, frustration at not being able to portray a wider range of stories, and subversion in being increasingly able to suggest disturbing content without quite showing it. One of the enduring appeals of film noir is how close it often came to that edge. By contemporary standards, The Strange One is rather mild stuff—the story of a sociopathic military cadet able to manipulate others into destroying lives through disgrace. But by the standards of the time—whew, there’s some strong material here, as the film portrays homosexuality and dehumanization within the context of a military academy. A few factors explain why the film is so daring—for one thing, it adapted material from a novel turned into a theatrical play (those being “easier” to justify to the censorship authorities); for another, it starred a young cast from the then-revolutionary Actors Studio, eager to push the envelope. The ways in which The Strange One is limited are more obvious to us now—the homosexual character is carefully coded to be deniable if needed, the events are naughty rather than violent and, perhaps more surprisingly, the despicable lead character is punished by the end of the film. Still, Ben Gazzara does leave quite an impression as the sadistic, untouchable protagonist of the film in his screen debut alongside George Peppard. Taken at face value, the film is most remarkable for its portrait of a charismatic evil protagonist—and putting in subtext themes and situations that would be explicitly shown today. Still, The Strange One remains a surprise if you’re not used to the nastier side of 1950s Hollywood and how it went out of its way to bend the Production Code requirements as much as possible.

  • The Carpetbaggers (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) For modern audience, it can be surprising to go back in Hollywood history and uncover the long list of movies that were considered audacious for their times, pushing the envelope of acceptable content in ways both crass and artistic. Not many of them are quite as shocking today, but even twenty-first century viewers can often detect an air of daring and provocation. In The Carpetbaggers’ case, the film was designed from the get-go to push a bit harder on melodramatic salaciousness – adapted from a novel by once-well-known sensationalist Harold Robbins. It features a strikingly unpleasant protagonist that draws heavily from Howard Hughes in combining the world of aerospace and filmmaking but then goes the extra mile in making him as unpleasant as possible. (The film begins by showing him carrying an affair with his stepmother.)  So it goes for the rest of the film, with terrible and exciting things happening to and between very rich and powerful people in the style of those page-turning naughty bestsellers meant to wow the crowds. George Peppard is convincingly slimy here, with some supporting work from Alan Ladd (in his last performance) and Carroll Baker. Director Edward Dmytryk has his hands full keeping the circus going through 150 minutes densely packed with deliberate melodrama and histrionics. (Some of the dialogue is admittedly pretty good.)  The Carpetbaggers is worth a curious look for those fans of how American culture has been in apparently constant and irremediable decline for decades. Alas, even by those standards, it’s often too unpleasant and dull to be truly fascinating – you can point to other moral-panic films such as Written on the Wind as something far more perverse and enjoyable.

  • The Blue Max (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2022) You may wonder why a mid-1960s film about World War I airplane pilots would go on the German side to find its protagonist, and the answer is obvious: he’s not meant to be a likable character. Adapted from a novel showing the transition to a harsher model of war, The Blue Max features George Peppard in the lead role, an egocentric pilot aiming for public recognition. His quest to achieve twenty kills even as he progressively alienates everyone around him becomes the dramatic arc of the film on which the (admittedly more impressive) flying sequences are arranged. You don’t have to watch The Blue Max for its serviceable plot—but if you’re even the least interested in World War I’s aerial front, this film becomes a must-see. The filmmakers were able to capture some captivating footage of mock combat, as well as other impressive stunts, such as a plane flying low between the trusses of a bridge. It’s quite amazing in colour cinematography, especially if you have a clear memory of previous black-and-white efforts such as Wings or Hell’s Angels. The Blue Max is a long sit at 156 minutes, but it goes by much faster once the action moves into the air. The back-projection special effects have not aged well, but the footage in-between them is still a wonder to watch. James Mason and Ursula Andress are interesting in supporting roles, while The Red Baron makes an appearance as a supporting character. In the wider continuity of war movies, The Blue Max certainly feels like a mid-1960s film—still very much an adventure spectacle, but slowly inching toward the war-is-hell post-1970s mentality in sync with its own themes. It’s still very much worth a look today for its aerial footage.

  • Home from the Hill (1960)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, February 2022) There’s something familiar to the point of boredom in the very 1950s-style small-town melodrama Home from the Hill. Technicolor cinematography can’t hide that it’s all convoluted histrionic without a millimetre of ironic distance. (There’s a reason why the near-contemporary Written on the Wind is far more beloved today.)  Oh, the film does have its traditional assets: Directed by Vincente Minelli, it features a cast with Robert Mitchum (in a role that anticipates his shift from tough guys to more elderly character-driven roles), veteran George Peppard and the young George Hamilton. MGM spared few expenses, giving this the big-budget colour treatment at a time when most such dramas were made in black-and-white. Mitchem is quite good here, using his tough-guy persona to project a character whose influence is steadily decaying. Still, the film does feel overly long and artificial: the southern atmosphere doesn’t impress, the scenes take too long to get to the point, the contrivances feel laboured and the rigidly mannered execution of the film is at odds with its raw melodrama. (But then again, that remains a problem with 1950s dramas: Hollywood did not yet have the neorealist tools to do them justice, and it would take until the New Hollywood of post-1967 to get there.)  It doesn’t help that there are several other films along the same lines as Home from the Hill, and that they usually have a distinct quality that makes them more memorable than this one. Fans of the actors, the style, and the melodrama may enjoy this, but everyone else won’t find much to remember.