Otto Preminger

  • Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) You could count on director Otto Preminger for upsetting sensibilities in film after film, and while Bunny Lake is Missing doesn’t have some of the more overt provocation found in his other films, it’s still an unnerving watch. Adapting The Lady Vanishes to feature a four-year-old, it has us questioning the sanity of a young woman claiming that her four-year-old daughter has been abducted despite there being no proof of the child’s existence. Lying or deluded? Have no fear: an inspector (played by Alec Guinness) is on the case, even though he proves an accessory to the protagonist finding out the truth on her own. Shot in detailed black-and-white cinematography and set in London, the film does give a passably unpleasant impression of unhelpful bystanders and dingy locations, everyone aligned against the protagonist. (Although shades of the Swingin’ Sixties occasionally make an appearance, such as unusual rock music from The Zombies as played on background television.) Carol Lynley is fine as the protagonist, but Keir Dullea and Noël Coward and Guinness arguably make more of an impression in easier roles. While the film does feel repetitive at the time, there’s some good tension in the proceedings, and a finale that veers into outright bizarre childhood games. Still, Preminger being Preminger, Bunny Lake is Missing is distinctive enough.

  • Carmen Jones (1954)

    Carmen Jones (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2020) A recent refresher about Dorothy Dandridge’s rather sad biography made it essential to view her career peak Carmen Jones. Despite a long history of systemic racism, Hollywood has, from time to time, made features with all-black casting. Carmen Jones is one of them, and it’s unsurprising that it would come from noted iconoclast Otto Preminger. Adapting the classic Bizet opera (perhaps the only opera featuring two numbers that regular people can hum) to the WW2-era was already something, but setting it in an all-black cast was the kind of decision to make people stand up and notice. The result has aged remarkably well as a period piece: It helps that the film opens with a scorcher of a number in “Carmen” as Dandridge vamps her way across a mess hall and takes aim at the lead male character, setting in motion the tragic events that follow. Dandridge fans know that Preminger’s interest in Dandridge was far from purely professional, and that may have helped in elevating her terrific lead performance in Carmen Jones: she looks nothing less than fantastic here even if her voice is dubbed, playing a femme fatale in a non-noir context. (That said, the film noir comparisons may not be all that far off: The entire story is a tragic cautionary tale about fate destroying you, with the hero experiencing a downward spiral eventually bringing him to that beloved noir common ground of a boxing hall.) The other big hummable number is the classic “toreador song,” here called “Stan’ Up an’ Fight” and led with gusto by Husky Miller. Dandridge often overshadows her co-star Harry Belafonte, but he’s equally impressive as the protagonist led to perdition—although, once again, the very idea of him being dubbed over is amazing to modern viewers used to his long musical career. It’s not a perfect film—what’s the progressive appeal of an all-black cast if they’re portrayed as “shameless vixens” and weak men destroyed by lust? Still, I’d rather have a Hollywood with Carmen Jones in its archives than without—considering that we’re still dealing with representativeness issues today, any tiny step forward is not to be discounted from today’s perch. From a more conventional perspective, I’m not a big fan of much of Carmen Jones: many numbers drag, and the film is not equally interesting. But Dandridge is terrific and so is Belafonte—and the big numbers are delightful.

  • Introducing Dorothy Dandridge (1999)

    Introducing Dorothy Dandridge (1999)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, October 2020) Halle Berry was clearly making a bid for respectability in made-for-HBO biopic Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, so closely was she trying to be Dandridge in this feel-bad biography. As an observer of Classic Hollywood and a confirmed fan of Dandridge’s rare but precious appearances on the big screen, this film was a bit of a sour treat for me—While it often delivers a credible portrait of Classic Hollywood on a modest budget, it also portrays a few beloved figures with scorn for what they did to Dandridge… and it’s hard to disagree. First up, though: Berry is magnificent as Dandridge, one of the first black actresses to earn some renown in 1950s Hollywood. It certainly helps that director Martha Coolidge goes out of her way to re-enact as much of Dandridge’s highlights as she can—watch these scene comparisons for proof. As one would expect, the film does confront the racism that Dandridge encountered—both overt and more pernicious. The film’s biggest criticisms are reserved for two figures that I respect a lot for their film work—Harold Nicholas (of the Nicholas Brothers dancing duo) for abusing and cheating on Dandridge, and director Otto Preminger for taking Dandridge as a mistress and giving her terrible career advice. All of this is factual—but not exactly glorious for both men. More annoyingly, the film definitely takes a “Dandridge never did anything wrong” approach that closely espouses its progressive values… but seems unsatisfying in explaining Dandridge’s progressive fade and untimely death. Still, buoyed by Berry’s performance, Introducing Dorothy Dandridge is a film well worth watching—after all, it’s the closest we’ll ever get to seeing a new Dandridge performance.

  • River of No Return (1954)

    River of No Return (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) It took a lot to combine Robert Mitchum, Marilyn Monroe and director Otto Preminger on the set of a colour widescreen Western shot in Canada. But was it worth it? Watching River of No Return and then reading about its eventful production history suggest that a film about the making of the film would be more interesting than the film itself. While not strictly a failure, this is a movie that seems oddly conceived, awkwardly executed and barely worth the trouble. Mitchum stars as a taciturn farmer who’s robbed and forced to race to town on a raging river, alongside an estranged son and a saloon singer (Monroe). A very 1950s script doesn’t make things better, considering that it includes a near-rape scene between “hero” and “heroine” and a retrograde portrayal of Native Americans. Technical aspects have not aged well, with obvious differences between studio footage and on-location shooting (which is the kind of thing you learn to tolerate from period films, except this one tries to be an action movie). In the end, River of No Return barely claws its way to mediocrity, which is a far deal less than what we could expect from the talent involved. If you’re even remotely familiar with Mitchum, Monroe and Preminger, then the feeling that all three are out of their urban environment persists throughout River of No Return—and reading about the troubled production of the film only reinforces the idea that there was no way this was going to turn out to be a good movie. As a Mitchum fan, I’m not impressed; as someone who’s not a Monroe fan, I am still disappointed; and as a Preminger fan, I understand why he walked away from the film in post-production.

  • 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.

  • The Human Factor (1979)

    The Human Factor (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2020) Maybe you want to watch director Otto Preminger’s last film. Maybe you’re interested in a quasi-domestic British film about the mundanity of espionage. Maybe you want to gawk as a young Iman (and who wouldn’t?) In any case, your path has led you to The Human Factor. It starts on a surprisingly dull note, with subtle British spycraft jargon, side glances, cryptic language, elliptical dialogue and a dark outlook on national betrayal—everything is beige and boring even during the colourful strip club sequence in which Preminger gets to show nudity after spending so many films wishing he could. It all feels like substandard Le Carré, his cerebral style being unusually susceptible to bad adaptations. At least there’s Iman: She looks terrific, of course, and while she’s not a gifted actress, this is probably the best performance she’s ever given. The Human Factor, as it develops and improves, belongs to the subtle low-key school of murky British counterespionage, which may not be to everyone’s taste—certainly, when compared to much better examples of the form, this one feels lifeless and far too long for its own good despite being adapted by Tom Stoppard from a Graham Greene novel. Non-Iman actors are quite good, though, what with David Attenborough, Nicol Williamson and Derek Jacobi. The third act gets slightly better as it heads to Africa via flashbacks, to tackle issues of apartheid and interracial relationships in a more vital fashion. After idling for most of its duration, The Human Factor eventually, finally, builds up to a decent conclusion. It’s a bit too late, you’ll say, and I’ll agree—Some serious retooling would be required to make this a more interesting film, but Preminger did not succeed with this one.

  • Forever Amber (1947)

    Forever Amber (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) Historically, Forever Amber was the anticipated Great Blockbuster of its time. Billed as the next Gone with the Wind, adapted from a salacious blockbuster, showcasing actors that the studio was grooming for stardom, it was Fox’s most expensive film at the time … something not help by a troubled production that saw incredible delays, director Otto Preminger taking over the ongoing shoot, and multiple actors (including its female lead) replaced midway through. It set opening week box-office records, although the overall returns for the film remained in the red due to the very high budget. All of this is immaterial to modern viewers encountering the movie absent from its production context. Fortunately, enough of the budget still shows up on the screen to impress. As a costume drama cranked to ten, Forever Amber benefits from its lavish colour cinematography, amazing costumes and a lead actress, Linda Darnell, who looks amazing in red hair and very detailed dresses. The stylized nature of the film, set in late 17th century England, helps it age gracefully as a historical recreation (albeit filtered through the lenses of the 1940s). George Sanders is also remarkable as Charles II. Plot-wise, the film isn’t quite as impressive: the melodrama is extreme (a lot of people die, all things considered), although the amount of not-so-softened sexual content is surprising coming from a film of its time—but it does make the film feel more modern than it is. (A curious facet of the Production Code years is that filmmakers could get away with more risqué material if they were adapting a best-selling novel.) The plot, as per the original book, is not meant to end well. Still, Forever Amber remains an impressive spectacle if you like costume dramas and enjoy the kind of overwrought style of Golden-age Hollywood.

  • Laura (1944)

    Laura (1944)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, June 2018) There’s a weird, weird quality to Laura—a film noir with a dead protagonist overpowering all other characters, a hilariously unprofessional investigation and a literal ticking-clock denouement. And yet director Otto Preminger keeps all the elements in good balance, delivering a film noir that works almost better as a study of obsession than a straight-up murder story. Having actors such a Gene Tierney (suitably entrancing as Laura), Dane Andrews, Clifton Webb and Vincent Price (well before he became the prince of horror) also helps. The result is actually kind of delicious, what with the good dialogue, unusual structure (so that you’re not watching the same darn thing) and stylistic touches. Laura amounts to a surprisingly good film, perhaps not a core film noir but certainly adjacent to it.

  • Anatomy of a Murder (1959)

    Anatomy of a Murder (1959)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2018) There is a surprising maturity to Anatomy of a Murder that still resonates today, even as Hollywood has long grown out of the restrictions of the Hays Code and proved willing to depict crime in sordid details. To see this black-and-white late-fifties crime film frankly discuss murder, rape and the corruption of the legal process is a bit of a shock, and to see it headlined by James Stewart is even more interesting. Going through all the steps of a trial, this courtroom drama still works well because it’s brutally honest. The protagonist is a disillusioned cynic, the ending is unsettling and some of the frank language still feels daring considering the time at which Anatomy of a Murder was produced. There are plenty of other smaller reasons to like the film: Saul Bass’s title sequence; Duke Ellington’s music; Stewart’s darker performance; and the numerous references of interest to Northwestern Ontarians (just the other side of Michigan where the film takes place). As a legal thriller, it’s still absorbing like a good novel—despite the sometimes-unnecessary length of the film. Director Otto Preminger’s work is straightforward, but what’s often forgotten now is how ground-breaking his movie could be in simply portraying the truth of a complex murder inspired by real-life events. Anatomy of a Murder definitely holds up, especially for fans of legal fiction.