Kim Novak

  • Boys’ Night Out (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) What I like about 1960s sex comedies is the very specific tone that they have, sufficiently freed from the Hays Code to tackle more salacious topics such as the ongoing sexual revolution, but still unwilling to be vulgar about it—it’s naughty without being upsetting and while I wouldn’t want to see that tone everywhere, it’s a welcome change of pace. The premise of Boys’ Night Out is simple, what with four men pooling their money to rent an apartment in Manhattan. If you want to compare eras and tone, keep in mind that there’s a 2014 “erotic thriller” called The Loft (itself a remake of a 2008 Dutch film) that shares that exact same premise—but the later R-rated film goes all-in on graphic content and murder. Boys’ Night Out is arguably funnier to modern-day audiences, as we can clearly picture where the film could but chooses not to go—because while our four men (three married, one divorced) may tell the others that they’re in for the young blonde “housekeeper” inhabiting the apartment, things are very different (and much funnier) once the married men get their night out: One simply wants to eat more than the health food prepared by his wife; another wants to talk without constantly being interrupted; the third simply wants to repair things around the apartment. Meanwhile, our divorced protagonist (the very likable James Garner) falls for the housekeeper and gets jealous of the achievements made up by his three friends. It’s all slightly naughty but not really, and the film does hit a good rhythm during its second third, especially when the “housekeeper” is revealed to be doing field research on a sociology thesis exemplified by the three married men. Boys’ Night Out offers a comic take on the Mad Men-ish era of henpecked husbands living the commuter train lifestyle, blunt gendered stereotypes and all. It does become less effective during its third act, as the comedy wears out while the film desperately tries to wrap up everything in a way that leaves everyone happy, wives included—the pace slows down considerably, and by the time the last fifteen minutes roll by, there aren’t any surprises left—just a drawn-out execution of something entirely predictable. Tighten that third act and it would be a much better film—but it serves well as a time capsule comedy, as a showcase for Kim Novak playing broad comedy, or another very similar film featuring Tony Randall in a very familiar role. Boys’ Night Out is fun and practically plays as family-friendly entertainment despite the subject matter, so innocuous is it in presenting its then-risqué subject matter.

  • Bell Book and Candle (1958)

    Bell Book and Candle (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) The ridiculously charming Bell Book and Candle combines a few of my favourite things: James Steward, Jack Lemmon, witches, cats and a supernatural romantic comedy. Pairing-wise, there is a nice contrast between Kim Novak’s glamorous sophistication and Stewart’s down-to-Earth affability, and the film doesn’t skip an occasion of making good use of it. Lemmon (and Ernie Kovacs) brings more overt comedy in the film’s subplot. Even the cat has a role to play—and it all takes place in Manhattan’s Beatnik-central Greenwich Village. Shot in very enjoyable Technicolor, Bell Book and Candle is both a fairly standard romantic comedy and a very cute one. [November 2024: Let it be recorded that, inspired by this film, I tried for months to get my cat to stand on my shoulders. I occasionally succeeded, which is not bad given the nature of my cat. The pandemic was weird.]

  • The Man with the Golden Arm (1955)

    The Man with the Golden Arm (1955)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) From the first moments of The Man with the Golden Arm, as we see Saul Bass’s opening titles and director Otto Preminger’s name, we’re reminded of the later Anatomy of a Murder and promised a serious taboo-breaking black-and-white drama. The film does not disappoint. It features Frank Sinatra as an ex-convict who’s struggling with not relapsing into drug addiction. That’s unusual enough as a topic matter for 1955, but what sets the film apart, even today, if that it treats addiction like a disease, and the addict as a victim. The humanization of the protagonist is made easier through Sinatra’s sympathetic screen persona, in a role that wouldn’t have been the same with any other actor. (Also notable: Kim Novak, and Arnold Stang’s great performance as a friend of the protagonist.) While it does take some time to get going, The Man with the Golden Arm does offer a fascinating atmosphere of low-down mid-1950s Chicago, with smoke-filled card joints, strip clubs (sort of) and seedy apartments. What the film does better than many others, then or since, is showing how difficult it can be to break out of a bad past, transforming the story from a crime thriller to a social drama. Sure, Sinatra and/or Preminger’s name will draw viewers in, but the story itself is quite engrossing once you give it a chance to put all of its pieces in place.

  • Vertigo (1958)

    Vertigo (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, June 2000) Every great director can make mistakes once in a while, and while Vertigo has its adherents, I can’t help but feel that Hitchcock dropped the ball with this one; it’s a story with huge structural problems and a baffling finale. This being said, it develops quite nicely, and could forever coast on the talents of Kim Novak and James Stewart. Still, there are inexcusable faults, like the disjointed nature of the film (some cutting required), the disappearance of the girl-friend character and the abrupt huh-inducing finale. It doesn’t hold up nearly as well as Hitchcock’s better films…

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, November 2020) I wasn’t a big Vertigo fan when I first saw it twenty years ago, and considering the impeccable critical acclaim that the film gets these days, I was curious to see it again and see whether two decades’ experiences and a much better understanding of Hitchcock’s career would lead me to another conclusion. Happily, it does; unhappily, I have to live with my first dumb review. Oh, I’m still not overly enthusiastic about Vertigo. I think Hitchcock has done better movies, and its appeal baffles me slightly. I have issues with the construction of the script and its far too hasty revelation (you know the one), as well as the disappearance of a supporting character without explanation. In the wider context of Hitchcock’s career, though, Vertigo is special: Its thematic obsession with, well, obsession neatly reflects other movies of his, and it’s no accident if the object of the protagonist’s fervour is a cool-ice blonde. I strongly suspect that the appeal of the film hovers at a near-unconscious level: not something based on plot or character, but in images, feelings and subtext. But, at long last, I do like it. Not a lot, but I do. James Stewart helps quite a bit, considering that his significantly darker character is epochal. Kim Novak makes for a splendid icon for Hitchcock’s own obsessions. As for San Francisco, well, it’s practically a third character with its multiple landmarks (most of whom I visited during my sole trip to the city!) showing up every few minutes. The plot itself makes slightly more sense than it did twenty years ago, but still hovers on the line of preposterousness. But that’s the nature of Vertigo: not entirely understandable on a purely rational level, and clearly aiming for a wealth of interpretations. I still like Rear Window much better, but I’ve made my peace with Vertigo so much applause.