John Williams

  • Island in the Sun (1957)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2022) There are many reasons why Island in the Sun is interesting, but far fewer to call it good. Oh, it’s certainly respectable: As a prestige picture adapting a well-known novel to the screen, it comes with a mixture of pedigree, dramatic ambition and production means. For contemporary audiences, the most noteworthy thing about the film is how progressive it feels compared to other 1950s dramas—it talks about race relations and interracial relationships in a fictitious Caribbean setting, and isn’t afraid to go for high melodrama to make its points. The multi-stranded plot makes good use of its ensemble cast, and a generous amount of on-location shooting lets the colour cinematography of the film escape from studio sets. For celebrity watchers, the film has an embarrassingly rich cast: everyone from James Mason (playing his usual blend of malice and panache) to Harry Belafonte (terrific!) to Joan Fontaine to Joan Collins to Dorothy Dandridge and the always-entertaining John Williams in a minor but showy role. Beyond racial issues, Island in the Sun also acknowledges matters of class and wealth, with a few set-pieces of populist unrest. Reading about the film’s controversial reception is unsurprising, but it reflects its complexity compared to many of the blander 1950s social-issue dramas. All of this clearly combines to make Island in the Sun a minor recommendation in looking at 1950s cinema, and a film that’s still watchable for many good reasons. On the other hand, it doesn’t quite cross the frontier separating interest to enjoyment—it often feels ponderous and limited, with morals that don’t feel coherent, as it makes a point of its anti-racism but goes soft on marital rape. Watching Dandridge deal with a complex but stunted dramatic role is a sheer waste of talent—especially considering how few movies she made as a leading actress. The warnings attached to Island in the Sun may be lighted than others of the time, but they’re still there—and perhaps it’s best to be forewarned that it’s not going to be enjoyable as much as it’s going to be interesting.

  • The Solid Gold Cadillac (1956)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2022) One of the most interesting aspects of 1950s Hollywood cinema, contrary to twenty-first century depictions of a conservative, conformist decade, is the sheer number of movies questioning the emerging post-war social structures. The new medium of TV got its fair share of contemporary criticism, and so did the rise of the corporate world. There are plenty of boardroom movies questioning whether the capitalist agenda could be aligned with humanist values, at various levels of seriousness. While The Solid Gold Cadillac is a few steps removed from absurdist comedy, its humour barely masquerades some pointed questions about the morality of management (even if it’s compared to an ideal of founder ownership rather than a culture of ethical governance and internal audit). Judy Holliday stars in a familiar blonde ditz role as a minor stockholder who becomes a thorn in the board of directors’ side after asking many simplistic but vexing questions at the annual stockholder’s meeting. Paul Douglas turns in an enjoyable performance as the gruff founder off to Washington and leaving the management of his company to a trio of ethically-challenged directors (including the always-fun John Williams). Romance predictably strikes between the naively shrewd secretary and the business tycoon, especially when the malfeasance of the board becomes obvious. The fairy-tale aspect of that subplot gets explicitly mentioned, but there’s a lot more than that going on, with the humble underdog taking down a crooked board through last-minute theatrics. It’s not perfect (including a too-long opening sequence that leans too hard on its theatrical adaptation) but it’s enjoyable enough with the right set of expectations. There’s one curious aspect of The Solid Gold Cadillac that establishes it clearly as a mid-1950s production: As the final sequence unveils the titular solid gold Cadillac, the film finishes by switching from black-and-white to colour cinematography in time for the last shot.

  • To Catch a Thief (1955)

    To Catch a Thief (1955)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, July 2018) Cary Grant, Alfred Hitchcock, Grace Kelly and the French Riviera—what more could you ask from To Catch a Thief? Hitchcock here lets go of relentless suspense in order to favour a breezy romantic comedy involving jewels thefts and a former master burglar trying to clear his name. Grant is effortlessly charming as the retired cat-burglar and he sets the mood for the rest of the film. Kelly is blander than expected, although it’s amusing to see her strut around the Riviera given her later position as the Princess of Monaco. John Williams (who always looks like John Cleese to me) also gets a good supporting role as an insurance man helping out the protagonist. Set against the sunny seaside scenery, this is a bit of a departure of Hitchcock, who doesn’t really try for suspense (even when the film could have called for it, such as the final sequence) as much as romantic banter and gentle crime. The atmosphere is well executed and the result is good sunny fun. To modern audiences, To Catch a Thief does have a bit of awkward fifties-style staging—most notably in the nighttime villa burglary sequence, not to mention the quasi-omnipresent rear-screen projection. But, as with the unnatural colours and high-class characters, this is part of the package: watch the film, travel back in time.

  • Dial M for Murder (1954)

    Dial M for Murder (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, January 2018) Even the most average Hitchcock films are better than most other thrillers, so when I refer to Dial M for Murder as slightly-above-average, the lofty standards of the director mean that the film is really good. There’s a pleasant eeriness at the very beginning of the film, as elements are thrown together on-screen (such as a blackmail letter) in a way that seems more hurried than logical—it’s only later that we learn the ghastly truth having led to the situation. The rest is about an attempted murder, a criminal scheme, a woman in distress and an intricate plot for a detective to untangle. The mid-point plot twist makes Dial M for Murder jump tracks into far more interesting territory than simply a woman being stalked by a murderer. The plotting is impeccable, the character work is fine, much of the story is thrillingly set in one location, and the climax is unusually effective even by contemporary standards. There’s a comfortable classic feel to the story as set in post-war London. Grace Kelly is quite good in the lead role, with able supporting turns by Ray Milland, Robert Cummings and John Williams (who’s not John Cleese). Hitchcock’s direction is so slick that despite the film having been shot in 3D, little of it seems forced or out-of-place. I now have a little bit more respect for the 1998 remake A Perfect Murder, which takes the same premise but runs with it in different yet satisfying fashion. Still, have a look at the original Dial M for Murder—it’s a thrill and a pleasure to watch even today.