Glenn Ford

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1962)

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1962)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, August 2019) Sometimes, the best-intentioned projects mutate into a monstrous parody of themselves, and we know this about the 1962 version of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse because there is another version to compare it to: The 1920s original version of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In this case, we can see the worthwhile intention in updating a WW1 story about a family torn by war to a post-WW2 setting. Director Vincente Minnelli, already familiar with the logistical demands of musical movies, should have been an ideal taskmaster for a sweeping multi-year epic involving a large family over two continents. And yet, watching the remake of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the entire thing falls flat. As satisfying as it can be to see Nazis getting what they deserve, whether it’s a slap or a bullet, there’s not a whole lot to the film. Much of it seems to be discussions rather than actions, weighed down by interminable dialogues. Sure, it’s great to have Glenn Ford here, except that neither the role nor the style of the film does him many favours. The sets are fantastic, mind you—but there’s a strange detachment to the entire film, as if it was consciously holding back from getting into the thick of the action. At least Yvette Mimieux is there to add some interest: her character is the best that the film has to offer. The rest is ponderous, slow, far too well-mannered even for an expensive early-1960s colour production. Historically, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is often remembered for having been one of the films (along with a colour remake of Cimarron which was actually decent enough) that hastened MGM’s decline into the 1960s. That’s a far heavier burden that this disappointing film should bear, but you can see in it the Hollywood studio malaise that was starting to exasperate moviegoers in the 1960s and would later lead to the rejuvenated New Hollywood.

Cimarron (1960)

Cimarron (1960)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, July 2019) The original 1931 Cimarron is sometimes held up as one of the worst Best Movie Oscar-winners, and that’s both untrue and unfair—while the plot is scattered, it does begin with the anthology-worthy Oklahoma Land Rush sequence, grandiose and spectacular. Since the 1960 remake of Cimarron doesn’t have the Oscar-winning pedigree of the original, I watched it with an overriding curiosity—would it manage to top the original’s Land Rush sequence? Would it fix the original film’s third-act plot problems? It begins unpromisingly, spending too much time setting up its characters prior to the Land Rush. But the showcase Land Rush caps off the first act and present a credible colourful recreation of the event, complete with hundreds of horses and carriage wagons crossing the frontier in a mad dash. Many bone-crushing accidents quickly follow. Much of the original plot remains intact, save for a good number of improvements to the characterization and what feels like a snappier pacing. Alas, Cimarron—once again—seems overpowered by its charismatic male lead, here played by Glenn Ford. Ford’s character is likable, decisive, admirable … and completely steals the spotlight away from Maria Schell’s character, which is too bad because, as in the 1933 film, her character is the film’s protagonist as her husband increasingly disappears from the story, leaving her to pick up the task of colonizing the west. This remake does improve upon the original in several ways—including a far more nuanced portrait of Native Americans, a much better visual portrayal of a city’s development over twenty-five years, and a more satisfying end for the hero—but it does remain in the same generally unsatisfying league, somehow missing the extra spark that could have made the movie that much better. The problem may be a far too slavish attitude toward the original material, which doesn’t quite work as-is on-screen. No matter the reason, this Cimarron is, by virtue of colour cinematography and a snappier pacing, a bit more accessible than the original … but it could have been quite a bit better.

Gilda (1946)

Gilda (1946)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, March 2019) Even after watching film noir movies for years, I’m still not all that sure about an exact definition for the subgenre. But that’s not a problem—far smarter people than me have also thrown up their hands in surrender at trying to provide a specific formula for noir/not-noir. The best I can do it to follow the crowd and ask myself: does it feel like noir? It doesn’t necessarily have to have Private Investigators chasing down criminals in American metropolises—in Gilda for instance, we find ourselves in South America, largely within a casino/mansion where an American expatriate gets involved with the casino owner and his new wife—who turns out to be an old flame. Add in a few German criminals, crunchy narration, some smouldering musical performances, gambling, a faked death, beat downs and a strong romantic antagonism and you’ve got quite a noir stew going on. The spectacular love-hate dialogue between the film’s two main characters is particularly successful, complemented by very good cinematography, lush when it needs to (such as the carnival scene) and visually complex throughout. Rita Hayworth gets the femme fatale thing down, not so much by gunning down male characters but by playing the dark bombshell to the limit—we even get her singing “Put the Blame on Mame” twice—once with her voice, the other with her entire body. It helps that her character is fiery, strong and an equal partner to Glenn Ford, who does well in a budding hustler role. But this is Hayworth’s movie—she easily outshines even the evocative South American casino setting. Gilda may not check all of the boxes of the traditional film noir, but it does so well on those checked boxes that it leaves quite an impression.