Kirk Douglas

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, August 2019) In the pantheon of Hollywood movies about Hollywood, The Bad and the Beautiful still stands tall as being emblematic of its era, right before the weight of studio producers crumbled before television, antitrust legislation, and the end of exclusive studio contracts. Kirk Douglas is in fine form as a movie mogul with numerous enemies, bringing three of them together so that he can convince them to work on his next project. But it’s a framing device, as the producer recalls his history with each one of his three listeners, leading to three shorter related stories about a director, a star and a writer. In each case, the protagonist plays the spoiler, pushing them to further heights even as he (as they put it) ruins their lives. As a way to take a multifaceted look at the way Hollywood worked up to that point, The Bad and the Beautiful is ingenious—it takes us in three different sub-worlds of Hollywood, loosely linked together. The tone is strictly melodramatic, which does add to the period charm. Douglas plays a magnificent bastard here, willing to sacrifice relationships in order to make movies … and then get the band back together. As befit a framing device holding together three shorter films, the ending is a bit weak, but that’s fine: this is very much a journey-is-the-destination film where the climax is less important than the scenes leading to it. At this point in time, it almost feels like comfort viewing—a paean to a lost Hollywood, but whose echoes can still be felt today.

Ace in the Hole (1951)

Ace in the Hole (1951)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, March 2019) I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating: the more I dig into classic Hollywood filmmaking, the more I realize that satire, social criticism and acerbic commentary have always been part of the package. This especially holds true for the 1950s, traditionally seen as a conformist decade but which also featured some of the bitterest take on media ever put on film. Coming in right before the rise of television and so perhaps at the apex of newspapers as a dominant form of media, Ace in the Hole gets downright nasty in describing how an unscrupulous newspaperman milks a personal tragedy for all it’s worth. As a man is stuck in a mine shaft and awaits a delicate rescue, our repellent protagonist (Kirk Douglas in a top-tier performance) decides to start manipulating events to his benefit. Within a remarkably short time, the mine entrance is surrounded by a circus of print journalists, broadcasters, opportunists and hucksters. Viewers beware—For all of the mordant wit of writer-director Billy Wilder’s film, Ace in the Hole is not meant to end well: it’s a deeply cynical work without many sympathetic characters to latch on. We’re meant to be awed but not charmed by Douglas’s wily, amoral protagonist, even as his great dialogue is undermined by despicable actions. Visually, there are some very evocative wide shots of cars, people and the media circus created around the scene of the news. As usual for Wilder, the film deftly manages to navigate a tricky labyrinth of tones even as it settles for more cynicism than usual even for him. It’s got a strong scene-to-scene watchability, and some clever-yet-transparent direction. The darkness of the ending may account for both its initial lack of popularity, and for its enduring nature. Show Ace in the Hole with A Face in the Crowd and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? for a surprisingly grown-up triple feature of 1950s media criticism.

The Big Sky (1952)

The Big Sky (1952)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, March 2019) Even relatively minor works from Howard Hawks can be interesting, and The Big Sky is the kind of big-budget western shot on location (in black-and-white, alas) that is worth a look even if you don’t like westerns. It’s more of a pioneer movie than a traditional cowboy western—taking place in the Pacific northwest, it features explorers and traders as they head west to befriend natives and establish trading posts. (As such, it’s already more palatable than many horse operas where natives were solely portrayed as bloodthirsty killers.) Much of the film’s action comes from the considerable enmity between the trading companies and the rival native bands. True to facts, there’s a substantial French-Canadian presence here, notably though the character of Jourdonays—although one notes that the actor playing him, Steven Geray, mumbles incomprehensible phonetic French even as the secondary characters speak decent, but European-accented French. Visually, The Big Sky is interesting to look at, and Hawk’s qualities as a sheer entertainer means that there’s almost always something to keep us interested in the film. There’s an interesting romantic arc featuring the ethnically native Elizabeth Threatt in her sole film role. (There’s plenty to quibble in the “native princess kidnapped as a pawn in a trade negotiation” arc, but by 1950s standard this was almost progressive material—the legendary Hawksian woman reinterpreted in that context.)  Acting-wise, the film features Kirk Douglas and Dewey Martin, but all the attention goes to the arresting Threatt and Arthur Hunnicutt’s Oscar-nominated role as a Daniel Boone -type character. On a structural level, the film is slightly less successful, with the last act of the film being an anticlimactic coda after an earlier action climax. Still, it’s worth a look: more interesting than your average 1950s western, The Big Sky indeed opens up possibilities for the western genre that were not often followed up.

Paths of Glory (1957)

Paths of Glory (1957)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, July 2018) There are movies that are going to be seen no matter their subject matter, simply by dint of being part of someone’s filmography. You can watch Paths of Glory because it’s one of Kirk Douglas’ better roles as an officer stuck between loyalty to his men and duty to his superiors. Or because it’s one of Stanley Kubrick’s most humanistic movies, with great battle sequences and a powerful ending. Or you can watch it because it’s a terrific film, at once indignant about war and decent in its depiction of characters forced in impossible circumstances. Some sequences already showcase Kubrick’s film mastery: The lengthy uninterrupted shot through WW1 fortifications is a thing of beauty, and the editing of the film is top-notch even by contemporary standards. It has endured today not simply because of its pedigree or its exceptional performance, but perhaps because its perspective on war—as an incredible waste that makes monsters out of everyone including the most principled—stands sharply at odds from other war movies of the era. Blending it with a legal drama (even a pseudo-legal drama) adds more opportunities to explore its theme than a strictly combat-focused film would have. Comparisons with other war movies of the era are instructive. Well worth watching today, Paths of Glory is the film where the Kubrick magic starts happening and it still stands as one of the director’s strongest features.

Seven Days in May (1964)

Seven Days in May (1964)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On Cable TV, May 2018) In between Seven Days in May, Dr. Strangelove and Fail-Safe, 1964 was a big, big year for black-and-white techno-thrillers in Hollywood. Dr. Strangelove distinguished itself through black comedy and Fail-Safe made few compromises in showing a nightmare scenario, leaving Seven Days in May as the more average film, although this is a relative term when discussing a film in which the United States government discovers an impending military coup and tries to defuse it before it’s too late. The black-and-white cinematography highlights the non-nonsense atmosphere that the film is going for, trying to make the unthinkable at least plausible. There is something admirable to the way the film builds not to an explosive guns-and-explosion confrontation, but to a quiet climax in which the would-be traitors are sent scurrying, and the country avoids a dramatic confrontation that would have had terrible consequences. The film works hard at instilling a basic credibility to its plotting, even with some then-near-future technological touches such as video screens. The tension is there, and being able to rely on capable actors such as Kirk Douglas, Fredric March (at the close of a long career), Ava Gardner or Burt Lancaster. Director John Frankenheimer made his reputation on thriller much like Seven Days in May, and is still effective today. Compared to its two other 1964 techno-thrillers, the film has aged very well—it may be hard to imagine nuclear war today, but overthrowing a president is still within the realm of possibility…

Spartacus (1960)

Spartacus (1960)

ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

(On TV, April 2018) The fifties were big on sword-and-sandal epics, and Spartacus is in many ways just another link in the chain that goes from, at least, Quo Vadis (1951) to Cleopatra (1963). That it happens to be a Stanley Kubrick film (directing a script by the equally legendary Dalton Trumbo) is almost immaterial—Kubrick famously disliked the end result, and reacted to his experience making the film by staying as far away from Hollywood as possible for the rest of his career. Still, there’s a lot to like here, starting with Kirk Douglas’s spectacular performance as Spartacus, or Laurence Olivier sparring with him as Crassus, or notables such as Charles Laughton, Peter Ustinov (back in sandals!) Tony Curtis or Jean Simmons in other roles. Trumbo’s script is quite good (the “I’m Spartacus ! ”scene lives on) and the execution does live up to Kubrick’s exacting standards. As historical epics go, Spartacus is one of the better ones, and it warrants watching as more than a historical reference.