jjgittes Blog

Under discussion:

A Star is Born  (1954)

I hadn't seen the Judy Garland version of A STAR IS BORN before its airing on Reel 13, but I have been very familiar with the horror stories swirling around the production. As a matter of fact, the film is probably more famous for the backstory than it is for the film itself. Garland's husband Sidney Luft produced the film to somehow rescue her career that was in a tailspin, more due to her increasing addictions and mood swings than any on-screen failures. Apparently, Garland battled her demons and director George Cukor vehemently throughout the endless production, most famously during the shooting of the production number "The Man That Got Away" which she allegedly filmed in a drugged out state and only did one take of (it's all they needed…). The results of all this behind the scenes drama is one of the most schizophrenic performances in perhaps one of the most schizophrenic movies I've ever seen.

There are a handful of moments in the film in which Garland is just awful – overacting with no sense of character nuance or inner truth. There are other moments in the film – performing "The Man That Got Away", her "I hate me" speech and her love confession to James Mason - in which she is more honest and powerful than I've ever seen her. Similarly inconsistent, the film itself has this "Born in a Trunk" number that is twenty minutes long and does NOTHING to advance the narrative – it's entirely from a film within the film. And yet there are several wonderful private moments between Mason and Garland that range from touching (the "New World" number, though I think Cukor should have let her sing the whole thing a capella instead of just the first verse) to fun and joyful (the "Somewhere/Someone" number). Cukor handles these scenes and several others like them with extreme delicacy, choosing not to cut very much, but let the camera move fluidly with the actors. It's a bit theatrical in theory, but the staging is never proscenium-like, using the depth of the sets to keep things cinematic and visual.

The element that really rescues the film from being a shambles is the performance of James Mason as Norman Maine. Though in real life, Garland was the one struggling with addiction, it is ironically Mason's Maine character in the film that wages that war and does so in an intelligent, palpable manner. He is probably the most believable cinema drunk of the 50's, adding layers of self-loathing, pride, honor, pain, hope and love to his character which makes him simultaneously flawed and sympathetic – a balancing act that all actors attempt and only few achieve. It is truly an awesome performance. While A STAR IS BORN may have been a vehicle for Garland, it's really Mason's movie.

Under discussion:

Go for Broke!  (1951)

I had my skepticism about GO FOR BROKE! when I first read that it was going to be one of the June Reel 13 Classics. Not only had I not heard of the film (a rarity for me, at least amongst the classics), but the synopsis wasn't even very promising. The thought of Van Johnson in the lead was the first strike and then the whole bit about training Japanese-American soldiers for WWII just reeked of governmental influence, which more often than not, is a recipe for disaster. However, after seeing it last night on Reel 13, I was surprised to discover that while it did occasionally teeter on the verge of propaganda, it was exciting and interesting in spite of its overt patriotism.

Van Johnson was no surprise, however. He flat out stunk, as expected. The actors that carry the film, amazingly enough, were the Japanese actors. I say amazing because in late 40's and early 50's Hollywood, these actors probably weren't getting many opportunities and often were relegated to poorly written, two-dimensional supporting roles. Additionally, minority actors generally didn't have access to the kind of training others did. In GO FOR BROKE!, while some of their accents are thick, the Japanese-American actors are consistently more interesting and natural than the European-Americans. Also, their scenes are better written – more honest and detailed. Particularly good was Lane Nakano as Sam (Nakano apparently actually served in the 442nd Regiment that the film is based on). His on-screen charisma is a wonder to behold and yet the remainder of his career consisted of walk-on roles and occasional television guest appearances.

I think they other key element that makes GO FOR BROKE! work is how detailed it was in regards to war strategy and planning. Director Robert Pirosh does a very good job of laying out the geography for each battle situation and then explaining how the Americans are going to structure their attack. The screenplay manages to accomplish this without being condescending or over-explanatory. The battles themselves then take on a greater impact because you are able to understand how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together and are therefore more involved in each moment of the skirmishes.

Overall, GO FOR BROKE! is a tightly-structured, well-paced and efficient film. Thematically, it would be a good double bill with Edward Zwick's GLORY in that both films not only tell the story of soldiers and unlikely heroes, but also of a nation maturing and getting over its on racial prejudices to truly be the all-welcoming melting pot that it set out to be at its inception.

Under discussion:

The Thomas Crown Affair  (1968)

Oddly enough, I had only seen the John McTiernan remake of THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR and while I realize it wasn't a masterpiece, I found it an entertaining and enjoyable caper. I just assumed that the original would be superior in every way and was excited about its airing on Reel 13 last night. After all, Norman Jewison, Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway seem like a late sixties dream team (Jewison was coming off of directing the Best Picture Oscar-winner the year before – IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT). Instead, the film had absolutely no emotional impact on me at all and left me surprised, bewildered and severely disappointed.

At first, I couldn't figure out where it went awry. I kept wanting to like it, expecting it to turn a corner and pique my interest, but then, before I knew what hit me, it was over. It starts promisingly enough with a clever bank heist, but Crown isn't physically involved in the robbery and we never really see him planning it in any way, so he's sort of passive, as heroes go, especially given it's essentially the only heist in the film (the second one at the end is a quickly cut carbon copy of the first). Then, Faye Dunaway, as insurance investigator Vicki Anderson, solves the mystery of the robbery WAY too easily. She walks in, looking young and stunning in several ridiculous overly fashionable outfits, bats her eyes and more or less decides that Crown is the guilty party. So, the two major elements of any crime - the crime and the investigation – are rushed through and devoid of any suspense whatsoever.

It's almost as if Jewison was in a rush to get to the longest scene in the film – the sexy chess match, which Norman clearly was setting up as the not-so-subtle metaphor of the movie (Did Dunaway really need to suggestively stroke one of the phallic-looking chess pieces? Cheeee-sy). It was around this time that it occurred to me that it's not supposed to be a cops and robbers movie as much as it was supposed to be a love story. That's fine, in theory, but even their relationship scenes are rushed. He gives her a dune buggy ride on the beach and suddenly, they're soulmates? Sorry, I don't buy it.

I'm most disappointed in Jewison, who normally is such a stickler for detail and is so careful in his storytelling. Here, he seems more interested in the natural beauty of both his lead actors than in the plot. Even the device he employs early in the film of dividing the screen into boxes falls flat or rather, he doesn't use it to advance the story (like the current television show "24" does a great job of). While he does have several things going on at once – the robbery comes at the bank from five different angles – he would instead chooses to use his four of his blocks to show Steve McQueen and the rest are out of focus. Then, when all of Crown's pawns are at different places in the bank, Jewison returns to full frame shooting at a time where the blocks might have really been useful/effective. Stylistic choices like that need to serve the story, not to show off the director's ability to do tricks.

I can almost see why McTiernan felt like it was a necessary film to remake. The plot has a lot of potential – extremely wealthy man plots bank robberies (or in the case of the remake – art heists) and then meets his match when an attractive, intelligent insurance investigator becomes the first to suspect him. Sounds great, doesn't it? But this original version barely scratches the surface of that juicy plot and invests more time in Michel Legrand's bizarre rhthymless song "Windmills in My Mind" (connecting Crown to Don Quixote). If you want a fun caper movie (I never thought I would say this), rent the remake. Norman Jewison has made a lot of great films, but he really bungled this one.

Under discussion:

Some Like It Hot  (1959)

It's interesting to me that, for a movie that is essentially silly and contrived at heart, SOME LIKE IT HOT works so well and holds up even today. I mean, as I'm sure you've heard if you've watched Thirteen at all this week, AFI recently named SOME LIKE IT HOT as the greatest American comedy of all-time. If the same movie were made today, I'm not sure it would fly. In today's more liberated society, men dressing up as women isn't that much of a novelty and it is my opinion that modern audiences would reject the coincidences that the plot hinges on (Lemmon and Curtis actually witness the St. Valentine's Day Massacre AND the mob chasing them just happens to show up at the same hotel in Florida!). However, because it is from the fifties and in black and white, today's audiences tend to be a little more accepting, as if to assume that's they way things were done back then.

While I don't agree that plot contrivance was a staple of 1950's cinema (though it is pre-eminent in a lot of Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond screenplays), I do agree that SOME LIKE IT HOT is a fabulous comedy. The key question is what makes it overcome those more absurd moments. It's not the performances. In spite of her iconic stature, Marilyn Monroe was never a very good actor and that remains true here. Tony Curtis is better imitating Cary Grant than he is at playing the Joe/Josephine character. Jack Lemmon doesn't disappoint and has many strong moments, even though when he is his Daphne make-up, his uncanny resemblance to The Joker from the BATMAN movies is very disconcerting.

No, I think what makes SOME LIKE IT HOT work is outstanding, precise direction. Billy Wilder writes some great dialogue, but I think his most underrated contribution to cinema comedy is his sense of pace and comic timing. The way some of his stronger films move and seem to breathe give them an energy that keeps the audience involved in the story, but also, to some degree, hides the less plausible elements of the plot. Even some of his lesser work like ONE, TWO, THREE (the Reel 13 Classic from March 29th) relies heavily on alternating between freneticism and stoicism and knowing just when to employ each (Soderbergh calls it "rhythm and release"). The staging of scenes borrow equally from Ernst Lubitsch (dialogue-driven) and Mack Sennett (physical comedy) to create this hybrid style that became all Wilder – a sort of modern farce that, in the case of SOME LIKE IT HOT, had particular resonance because of how it innocuously played with sexual conventions at a time when attitudes toward sex and sexuality were starting to shift.

Most importantly, however, is that SOME LIKE IT HOT is just great fun. Smart dialogue, sharp direction, disguises, mistaken identity – the works, all executed with great deftness and care. While I disagree that SOME LIKE IT HOT is the greatest comedy of all time (haven't they seen AIRPLANE?) or that it is Billy Wilder's best film (see last week's blog for THE APARTMENT), it's still a fabulous, memorable movie that in spite of its penchant for silliness, will probably live forever.

Under discussion:

The Apartment  (1960)

What can I say about THE APARTMENT that hasn't already been said? In my opinion, it is Billy Wilder's masterpiece and one of the top 50, maybe even top 40 movies of all time. It's in a whole different league amongst the majority of the films, classics or indies, that they show on Reel 13 (BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK is the only one that comes close). It is an almost amazingly perfect blend of comedy and drama, equally hilarious and heart-wrenching. This is a film that contains a suicide attempt, discusses another, features depression, significant infidelity and suggested promiscuity and yet manages to be perennially charming.

Cameron Crowe suggested that THE APARTMENT was a major inspiration for his film Jerry Maguire. At one point, he went to visit Billy Wilder to ask him to play a cameo in the film (the old-time agent in the opening). Though Wilder would eventually turn him down, Crowe did get to ask him about THE APARTMENT and all Wilder had to say was "Good actors. It worked". A simple analysis, granted, but it wisely gets at the heart of what elevates The Apartment to a whole different level. I mean, all the elements are strong – the production design of the titular apartment and also the interior of the office are wonderfully detailed and the screenplay, of course, is brilliantly tight and well-crafted, but that's true of a great many Billy Wilder films. For THE APARTMENT, it is the inspired pairing of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and their abilities to be charismatic while exuding pathos that puts THE APARTMENT over the top.

I think of the scene in which Lemmon's Bud Baxter is trying to cheer up the broken-hearted Fran (MacLaine) who is embarrassed by her attempted suicide. Baxter reveals to her that he had tried it once himself years ago and relates to her the circumstances behind it in a monologue that in spite of its seriousness is delivered to be a lark of a story, almost as if a joke. In many other actor's hands, the monologue would have been morose and would have felt awkward tonally. However, Baxter's ability to laugh at his pain is not only charming, it's uplifting and due to Lemmon's conviction in his performance, it still feels honest.

MacLaine also has a great deal of strong moments and in a way, her character is the more challenging one. Her pain and heartbreak over her affair with Baxter's boss (an awesomely sleazy Fred MacMurray) is palpable and she still manages to throw in a quip or two from rock bottom. Instead of this feeling off-tone, MacLaine makes it work and it only adds dimensions to her character and rounds her out more. MacLaine craftfully navigates her character's journey from in confused love with a married man to suicidal and broken-hearted to a suddenly adult woman who comes to terms with both herself and the important things in life.

I could go on for days praising the individual qualities of THE APARTMENT – the pitch-perfect framing, the uber-clever dialogue ("That's the way it crumbles, cookie-wise".), the surprisingly effective bluesy score, the precise blocking of scenes, but I don't have time for all that. Instead, I'll let the maestro himself, Billy Wilder, sum things up the way he does best: simply and to the point – "Good actors. It worked".

Under discussion:

Von Ryan's Express  (1965)

I had last seen VON RYAN'S EXPRESS (Mark Robson, 1965) a long time ago as a kid as one of many WWII movies that my father loved and wanted to introduce me to. Watching it again as an adult on Reel 13 last night, I realized that the film is not as strong or fun as I remembered. As a matter of fact, it is probably among the weaker films of its genre. Its superior contemporaries are films like THE GREAT ESCAPE (John Sturges, 1963), THE GUNS OF NAVARONE (J. Lee Thompson, 1961) and THE TRAIN (John Frankenheimer, 1964). The difference, I believe, is personality. All three of the films feature characters, both leading and supporting, that are significantly more fleshed out, three-dimensional and therefore, interesting.

While VRE contains some impressive and well-choreographed action sequences, it isn't worth a damn without stronger character detail. The titular Colonel Ryan lacks any distinguishing characteristics or traits. He's a two-dimensional cookie-cutter war hero and its no wonder Frank Sinatra looks so bored playing him. The usually reliable Trevor Howard is frustratingly annoying as the head of the British forces in the film – Major Fincham. His only character feature is that he is a wet blanket for two hours, constantly whining, complaining and naysaying at every turn. It might have been a much better film if Sinatra had just shot him in the early going.

Another positive aspect of VON RYAN'S EXPRESS is the level of detail put into the WWII accuracy. While I'm no history expert and they could have made dozens of mistakes that I didn't catch, everything seemed to be precise, from the style of trains and plains to the uniforms to the military procedures. Even if they missed something, Robson and screenwriters Wendell Mayes and Joseph Landon take great pains to explain how things work so that we understand how our heroes overcome each obstacle that falls in their path. It is always clear and sensible how each approaching problem is solved. The tradeoff, however, as is common amongst plot-heavy films, is that you run the risk sacrificing character development. Great films are a balance of plot and character. The three films I mention above managed to achieve that. VON RYAN'S EXPRESS did not.

Under discussion:

That's Entertainment Part II  (1976)

This was certainly a surprise choice for the folks at Reel 13 Classics. It's not so much a classic as it is a retrospective of classics, which I guess qualifies if you look at it from a certain vantage point. Still, I couldn't help but be a little disappointed when I saw this film on the May schedule. Generally speaking, as a film buff, I enjoy retrospectives. More often than not, they offer unique perspectives on their subjects and insight into film history.

THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT PART II is different, however, for three reasons. One is the series was made by MGM/UA and so they primarily feature MGM musicals/scenes. While MGM had a lot of great stuff, narrowing your retrospective to one distributor over a two-decade period is a limitation. Second, THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT PART II is an afterthought of a sequel – they already used their best clips in the first film, so we get the leftovers here. Finally, the intros to clips by Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly are inane and offer absolutely no valuable information or tidbits (Where was Neal Gabler when we needed him?). They are great performers, but Kelly, who also directs, insights on these pseudo-clever song introductions to each sequence of clips, which is a waste of time. As I mentioned, part of the joy of retrospectives such as these is that they give us insider information, production stories or something of that ilk – a kind of structure that tap dancing will not replace.

Under discussion:

Hello, Dolly!  (1969)

I had the dubious honor of being a part of my high school's production of HELLO DOLLY a zillion years ago, so there was a time when I was intimately familiar with both the play and the film. It's been a long time and truthfully, I had my reservations about the show even then. Watching the film again this past Saturday on Reel 13, I was reminded how lame the show really is and the film version, as directed by Gene Kelly, is even worse.

I suspect the popularity of Jerry Herman's original production during the 60's had more to do with the Carol Channing persona than the story. If that's true, then the film was handicapped before it even began by bypassing Channing in favor of a very young Barbra Streisand, playing a character fifteen or twenty years older than she actually was. This is not to say that Streisand is bad in the role. Her strongest assets – her voice and her comic timing – are on prime display here and she imbues the character with an engaging energy and vitality. She puts forth extraordinary effort, but one has a hard time believing that a) she is a widowed matchmaker and has been out of the public scene for a decade and b) she would be a good match for Walter Matthau's Horace Vandergelder character. This is the primary plot of the film and the film suffers because it never once seems plausible. Gosh – Streisand seems even younger than the ingénue Irene Malloy character (Marianne McAndrew).

Unfortunately, the rest of the cast, who were at least age-appropriate, were horribly off-the-mark in their performances. On the whole, I blame Kelly, who seems to have directed all of them (except maybe Streisand and Matthau) to be ridiculously over-the-top. This includes a baby-faced Michael Crawford as Cornelius Hackl and a I-don't-believe-he's-straight-for-a-second Tommy Tune, both of which went on to have wonderful stage careers. On film, they come off as silly and cartoonish. What's interesting to me is that as an actor, Kelly was always so smooth, sincere and understated. I'm bewildered as to why he wasn't able to bring that style to the table when he's behind the camera. It could have done wonders for the plot. It's hard enough to believe that all these people fall in love (there are four couples in the film) within a twenty-four hour period. The wide-eyed, loud and juvenile performance styles make it impossible, but I wonder what it would have been like if the characters had the opportunity to establish real connections with each other – make us care and root for them to get together. It could have made for an entirely different experience.