(9/29/01)
This film is almost a blueprint for Dallas and the character Paul Newman plays is like a precursor of J. R. Ewing. He's younger, though, and exudes a more direct animal magnetism. Newman is well-matched by Melvyn Douglas as the crusty old rancher who seems like a model for Jock Ewing. Douglas really held his own against Newman and it was startling to me to consider that this is the same actor who exuded such cool sophistication opposite Greta Garbo in Ninotchka. Patricia Neal is also quite memorable.
I think that the pleasure of Hud comes from watching these actors do their stuff. And from James Wong Howe's evocative cinematography which captures a gritty atmosphere. The night scenes are particularly atmospheric, especially the shots of the main street of a Texas town at night.
I didn't find the story that involving and I'm not sure why. Hud is a rake and a scoundrel, but his nephew hero-worships him. The nephew becomes disillusioned and turns his back on Hud by the film's end. Hud's father is a cattle rancher who learns that his entire herd is infected with foot-and-mouth disease and has to be destroyed, wiping out his wealth. What I found interesting was watching the different personalities interact.
Some of Hud may have lost its impact over the years because it's been imitated. The father-son conflicts are straight out of Dallas and while they were interesting to watch they probably didn't have the same kind of impact that they might have had in 1963. But the presence and magnetism of Paul Newman shine through undimmed.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Dawn to Dawn. 1933. Directed by Joseph Berne. (Titled "Black Dawn" on print.)
(9/19/01)
As I watched Dawn to Dawn I couldn't help thinking about how it bears the same date as Machaty's Ecstasy. The two films resemble each other. In both films a woman is trapped with an older man and seeks escape with a younger one. Both films seem to exult in nature and in both there is a minimum of dialogue. They both have a frankness about matters of sex. They both end on a note of defeat for the young lovers. And they both have a rich photographic beauty.
Dawn to Dawn is very, very good. It has a very simple story. A young woman lives on a farm with her father who is disabled in some way. He is possessive of her and keeps her away from other people, especially men. She is out ploughing the fields (or something similar.) She takes a nap and is found by a young stranger. She wakes and they make love. He wants to stay with her, but of course the father will not permit it. The stranger wants her to go away with him and she almost does, but she cannot leave her father. The stranger goes, taking with him her only chance for escape and the father appears to die.
The characters in Dawn to Dawn are more like archetypal figures than particular people. They really convey a sense that this is a universal drama being enacted rather than a story about these particular individuals. On that level the film is very convincing.
One thing I liked very much is that the young woman was no great beauty. She had an ordinariness about her which made the film that much more convincing. The young man's voice was somehow disappointing and didn't go with his appearance. He was a stranger who just appears out of nowhere and perhaps because of that his voice should have had a more special quality to it. I'm not sure what it was, but his appearance from nowhere had an impact, but when he started to speak the effect was, well, maybe not shattered, but certainly not enhanced.
The photography captured the atmosphere of this beautiful location--nature full of life and growth and sunlight which is paradoxically a prison. It is beautiful and oppressive at the same time. And the outcome was such a waste because the stranger was willing to stay and help work the land. I wish the woman had been assertive enough to give the father a choice--accept the stranger, who would certainly have been able to pull his weight, or lose her. But she didn't.
As I watched Dawn to Dawn I couldn't help thinking about how it bears the same date as Machaty's Ecstasy. The two films resemble each other. In both films a woman is trapped with an older man and seeks escape with a younger one. Both films seem to exult in nature and in both there is a minimum of dialogue. They both have a frankness about matters of sex. They both end on a note of defeat for the young lovers. And they both have a rich photographic beauty.
Dawn to Dawn is very, very good. It has a very simple story. A young woman lives on a farm with her father who is disabled in some way. He is possessive of her and keeps her away from other people, especially men. She is out ploughing the fields (or something similar.) She takes a nap and is found by a young stranger. She wakes and they make love. He wants to stay with her, but of course the father will not permit it. The stranger wants her to go away with him and she almost does, but she cannot leave her father. The stranger goes, taking with him her only chance for escape and the father appears to die.
The characters in Dawn to Dawn are more like archetypal figures than particular people. They really convey a sense that this is a universal drama being enacted rather than a story about these particular individuals. On that level the film is very convincing.
One thing I liked very much is that the young woman was no great beauty. She had an ordinariness about her which made the film that much more convincing. The young man's voice was somehow disappointing and didn't go with his appearance. He was a stranger who just appears out of nowhere and perhaps because of that his voice should have had a more special quality to it. I'm not sure what it was, but his appearance from nowhere had an impact, but when he started to speak the effect was, well, maybe not shattered, but certainly not enhanced.
The photography captured the atmosphere of this beautiful location--nature full of life and growth and sunlight which is paradoxically a prison. It is beautiful and oppressive at the same time. And the outcome was such a waste because the stranger was willing to stay and help work the land. I wish the woman had been assertive enough to give the father a choice--accept the stranger, who would certainly have been able to pull his weight, or lose her. But she didn't.
This Property Is Condemned. 1966. Directed by Sydney Pollack.
(9/6/01-9/19/01)
This film was "suggested" by a one-act play of Tennessee Williams. I can't help wondering how much of Tennessee Williams is in it and whether it bears the same kind of relationship to its source as The Killers did to the Hemingway story on which it was based. In any case, it does retain the spirit of Williams pretty well (based on my regrettably limited knowledge of the playwright) and strikes me as an example of serious adult movie fare during the 1960s.
The film had a theatrical quality in the sense that it had the feel of a stage play. Many of the scenes felt just like that--scenes, with actors playing parts and reciting lines. Of course, the actors recited the lines well and it was enjoyable watching them. The film occasionally "opened up," such as the scenes set outdoors in New Orleans. It didn't all mesh together smoothly.
Robert Redford has quite a presence. He is attractive and engaging as the railroad hatchet man who stays at the boarding house from which Natalie Wood is dying to escape. He is attractive, projects a sexual confidence, but at the same time is a sensitive enough actor to create a portrait of a man who is stuck with a distasteful job.
I have to wonder, though, how Redford's character lets himself get into the situation where he is beaten up by the locals. He has done this job before and is certainly aware of the hostility that comes with the territory. You would think he would know better than to get involved with the local belle and squire her in public. That is the only thing in the film which just doesn't ring true.
Natalie Wood's character's situation is very interesting. Her mother wants to use her sexuality as a means to escape a drab environment. It is a sad situation this woman is in and it is made quite vivid, whether through acting or writing. I felt especially sad, too, for poor lonely Mr. Johnson who is trying to buy Wood's company even though he knows--or should know--that she isn't interested. He is a sad, pathetic character.
I very much liked the young actress who played Natalie Wood's kid sister.
It is interesting that we don't see Natalie Wood again after the final confrontation with her mother who attempts to destroy--and I'm not sure how successfully--her one chance for happiness, by telling Redford how she had married Charles Bronson and rolled him. We don't see the end of the story, but only hear from the young sister how Wood's character had died.
This film was "suggested" by a one-act play of Tennessee Williams. I can't help wondering how much of Tennessee Williams is in it and whether it bears the same kind of relationship to its source as The Killers did to the Hemingway story on which it was based. In any case, it does retain the spirit of Williams pretty well (based on my regrettably limited knowledge of the playwright) and strikes me as an example of serious adult movie fare during the 1960s.
The film had a theatrical quality in the sense that it had the feel of a stage play. Many of the scenes felt just like that--scenes, with actors playing parts and reciting lines. Of course, the actors recited the lines well and it was enjoyable watching them. The film occasionally "opened up," such as the scenes set outdoors in New Orleans. It didn't all mesh together smoothly.
Robert Redford has quite a presence. He is attractive and engaging as the railroad hatchet man who stays at the boarding house from which Natalie Wood is dying to escape. He is attractive, projects a sexual confidence, but at the same time is a sensitive enough actor to create a portrait of a man who is stuck with a distasteful job.
I have to wonder, though, how Redford's character lets himself get into the situation where he is beaten up by the locals. He has done this job before and is certainly aware of the hostility that comes with the territory. You would think he would know better than to get involved with the local belle and squire her in public. That is the only thing in the film which just doesn't ring true.
Natalie Wood's character's situation is very interesting. Her mother wants to use her sexuality as a means to escape a drab environment. It is a sad situation this woman is in and it is made quite vivid, whether through acting or writing. I felt especially sad, too, for poor lonely Mr. Johnson who is trying to buy Wood's company even though he knows--or should know--that she isn't interested. He is a sad, pathetic character.
I very much liked the young actress who played Natalie Wood's kid sister.
It is interesting that we don't see Natalie Wood again after the final confrontation with her mother who attempts to destroy--and I'm not sure how successfully--her one chance for happiness, by telling Redford how she had married Charles Bronson and rolled him. We don't see the end of the story, but only hear from the young sister how Wood's character had died.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Yankee Doodle Dandy. 1942. Directed by Michael Curtiz.
(9/4/01-9/5/01)
Yankee Doodle Dandy holds up as a high-energy picture full of memorable scenes. It is a well-made, pleasant, entertaining film. There really isn't much more to say about it.
I never realized before how much Douglas Croft adds to this picture as the young George M. Cohan. His scenes are really good and set the stage for Cagney's character--cocky, brash, but endearing just the same.
The whole cast shines. Walter Huston is perfect as the father. George Tobias and S. Z. Sakall contribute delightful little bits, but its Cagney's show all the way. He's terrific to watch in the musical numbers. I think that Cagney's aggressive, staccato delivery was a perfect match to George M. Cohan's songs. And he made Cohan into a believable and endearing character. The brashness and cockiness exude a quality that many tend to think of as "American," without coming across as obnoxious. Cohan was a man of patriotism and family values and Cagney manages to embody this aspect of the man as well. And he brings off the tenderness and vulnerability of the scene at his father's deathbed beautifully.
The musical numbers are stylishly antique. They capture the flavor of a theater that was old-fashioned even in 1942. I wish there had been more of Cagney's dancing, but I guess the rule is to leave the audience wanting more. I especially like the scenes of Cagney doing "Yankee Doodle Dandy," but I found the "Grand Old Flag" number tacky, especially with Walter Huston marching around as Uncle Sam. But this was 1942 and that scene has historical value as it reflects at least a segment of popular feeling at the time. And I suppose it's kind of amusing if one is in the right mood.
Among my favorite scenes are Cohan's encounter with Fay Templeton and the one in which Cohan and another writer pretend that they have practically sold Cohan's show to S. Z. Sakall's rival and get him to practically beg them for it. And the scene in which the stage-struck girl comes to Cohan's dressing room, believing him to be the old man of his stage character. Wonderful scenes all, well-planned and well-played.
This film is a beautiful, energetic tribute to Cohan's music which succeeds in putting a human face on it. And for a lot of us Yankee Doodle Dandy created the images which spring to our minds when we think of the name George M. Cohan.
Yankee Doodle Dandy holds up as a high-energy picture full of memorable scenes. It is a well-made, pleasant, entertaining film. There really isn't much more to say about it.
I never realized before how much Douglas Croft adds to this picture as the young George M. Cohan. His scenes are really good and set the stage for Cagney's character--cocky, brash, but endearing just the same.
The whole cast shines. Walter Huston is perfect as the father. George Tobias and S. Z. Sakall contribute delightful little bits, but its Cagney's show all the way. He's terrific to watch in the musical numbers. I think that Cagney's aggressive, staccato delivery was a perfect match to George M. Cohan's songs. And he made Cohan into a believable and endearing character. The brashness and cockiness exude a quality that many tend to think of as "American," without coming across as obnoxious. Cohan was a man of patriotism and family values and Cagney manages to embody this aspect of the man as well. And he brings off the tenderness and vulnerability of the scene at his father's deathbed beautifully.
The musical numbers are stylishly antique. They capture the flavor of a theater that was old-fashioned even in 1942. I wish there had been more of Cagney's dancing, but I guess the rule is to leave the audience wanting more. I especially like the scenes of Cagney doing "Yankee Doodle Dandy," but I found the "Grand Old Flag" number tacky, especially with Walter Huston marching around as Uncle Sam. But this was 1942 and that scene has historical value as it reflects at least a segment of popular feeling at the time. And I suppose it's kind of amusing if one is in the right mood.
Among my favorite scenes are Cohan's encounter with Fay Templeton and the one in which Cohan and another writer pretend that they have practically sold Cohan's show to S. Z. Sakall's rival and get him to practically beg them for it. And the scene in which the stage-struck girl comes to Cohan's dressing room, believing him to be the old man of his stage character. Wonderful scenes all, well-planned and well-played.
This film is a beautiful, energetic tribute to Cohan's music which succeeds in putting a human face on it. And for a lot of us Yankee Doodle Dandy created the images which spring to our minds when we think of the name George M. Cohan.
Passage to Marseilles. 1944. Directed by Michael Curtiz.
(9/4/01-9/5/01)
Claude Rains is the very picture of benevolence in this picture. He is wise and understanding. This is definitely one of his best--certainly one of his most endearing--performances.
I don't believe I ever realized before how much of a Warner Brothers prison picture Passage to Marseilles really is. In fact, it bears a very strong resemblance to Each Dawn I Die in which James Cagney plays a crusading journalist (as Bogart does here) who is framed and sent to prison. Only here the prison is Devil's Island and it's a war picture as well. But it's a prison picture, nonetheless, made by a studio that specialized in prison pictures.
Humphrey Bogart plays the classic Bogart character--the reluctant hero. He is sick of the whole rotten system and when the escapees swear an oat to fight for France the camera moves in on his silent face. It's quite obvious that he is playing the Bogart character, but it is a character that audiences of 1944 responded to. And not just audiences of 1944; Bogart's reluctant hero captured the hearts of later generations as well. (His popularity was huge in the late 60s.)
This film has a few wonderful little character vignettes. Vladimir Sokoloff is touching as the old man on Devil's Island they call Grand-Pere. And Billy Roy lingers in the memory as the cabin boy who is so anguished when the Germans attack the ship. He adds so much to the picture in only a few minutes of screen time. On the other hand, Michele Morgan doesn't contribute that much as the heroine. Perhaps they didn't want an actress with a strong presence because this was basically a man's picture.
The film as a whole didn't have the impact it had on me thirty years ago when I used to watch it on late-night TV. Alas. I was especially disappointed when Claude Rains reads the letter that Bogart had wanted to send to the son he had never seen on his birthday. I used to really like that scene. This time around it just seemed trite.
Claude Rains is the very picture of benevolence in this picture. He is wise and understanding. This is definitely one of his best--certainly one of his most endearing--performances.
I don't believe I ever realized before how much of a Warner Brothers prison picture Passage to Marseilles really is. In fact, it bears a very strong resemblance to Each Dawn I Die in which James Cagney plays a crusading journalist (as Bogart does here) who is framed and sent to prison. Only here the prison is Devil's Island and it's a war picture as well. But it's a prison picture, nonetheless, made by a studio that specialized in prison pictures.
Humphrey Bogart plays the classic Bogart character--the reluctant hero. He is sick of the whole rotten system and when the escapees swear an oat to fight for France the camera moves in on his silent face. It's quite obvious that he is playing the Bogart character, but it is a character that audiences of 1944 responded to. And not just audiences of 1944; Bogart's reluctant hero captured the hearts of later generations as well. (His popularity was huge in the late 60s.)
This film has a few wonderful little character vignettes. Vladimir Sokoloff is touching as the old man on Devil's Island they call Grand-Pere. And Billy Roy lingers in the memory as the cabin boy who is so anguished when the Germans attack the ship. He adds so much to the picture in only a few minutes of screen time. On the other hand, Michele Morgan doesn't contribute that much as the heroine. Perhaps they didn't want an actress with a strong presence because this was basically a man's picture.
The film as a whole didn't have the impact it had on me thirty years ago when I used to watch it on late-night TV. Alas. I was especially disappointed when Claude Rains reads the letter that Bogart had wanted to send to the son he had never seen on his birthday. I used to really like that scene. This time around it just seemed trite.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Pursued. 1947. Directed by Raoul Walsh.
(9/4/01)
Pursued is another of those films that I didn't like very much at the beginning, but which grew on me as it went along.
One reason why I didn't like it at first was that it had a very abrupt beginning. Or so it seemed to me. My impression was that we weren't properly introduced to the characters. And it took me a while to settle into it.
Pursued tells a strange and intense story. A young boy is taken from a scene of violence by a widow with two children. It is clear that there is a history of violence between his family and the widow's family. There is a man who is intent on destroying him. But no one ever tells the boy just what it's all about. He is hated and hunted down without ever knowing why.
There is a tension between the boy and the widow, played by Judith Anderson, who simply tells him not to ask questions. And there is tension between him and the son of the family. And then he falls in love with the daughter of the family, movingly played by Teresa Wright.
It's like a Romeo and Juliet story, but it is more painful because the lovers do not understand the forces which are determined to keep them apart. This is compensated for by the fact that the lovers prevail.
Robert Mitchum is fine as the bewildered, tortured soul. I had a little difficulty accepting him in this part because I am most familiar with his more sinister roles--Night of the Hunter and Cape Fear. Those are the only two other Robert Mitchum films that I can think of. It took me some time to adjust.
Teresa Wright and Judith Anderson both contribute a lot to this film. I think that Anderson's best moment comes after the inquest, when Mitchum has been exonerated of the killing of her son. He approaches her as she and Wright are preparing to leave in their wagon and Anderson tells him to never come near her again.
I also liked the scene when Wright attempts to murder Mitchum but can't. She married him planning to kill him, but what is fascinating is that he knew what she was planning to do, but also knew that she wouldn't be able to do it. He knew her that well. That was a surprising and gratifying moment.
I very much liked the photography of the scene where they buried Prentice, the young man who was manipulated into picking a fight with Mitchum. That scene had an eerie quality which impressed me.
I never did figure out just what happened when the hero was a little boy. The explanations either came out too quickly at the end or else the "restored" sound quality was so poor that I couldn't make them out. It didn't really matter, anyway. What mattered was the story of this man, caught up in an impossible, bewildering situation and how he dealt with it.
Pursued is another of those films that I didn't like very much at the beginning, but which grew on me as it went along.
One reason why I didn't like it at first was that it had a very abrupt beginning. Or so it seemed to me. My impression was that we weren't properly introduced to the characters. And it took me a while to settle into it.
Pursued tells a strange and intense story. A young boy is taken from a scene of violence by a widow with two children. It is clear that there is a history of violence between his family and the widow's family. There is a man who is intent on destroying him. But no one ever tells the boy just what it's all about. He is hated and hunted down without ever knowing why.
There is a tension between the boy and the widow, played by Judith Anderson, who simply tells him not to ask questions. And there is tension between him and the son of the family. And then he falls in love with the daughter of the family, movingly played by Teresa Wright.
It's like a Romeo and Juliet story, but it is more painful because the lovers do not understand the forces which are determined to keep them apart. This is compensated for by the fact that the lovers prevail.
Robert Mitchum is fine as the bewildered, tortured soul. I had a little difficulty accepting him in this part because I am most familiar with his more sinister roles--Night of the Hunter and Cape Fear. Those are the only two other Robert Mitchum films that I can think of. It took me some time to adjust.
Teresa Wright and Judith Anderson both contribute a lot to this film. I think that Anderson's best moment comes after the inquest, when Mitchum has been exonerated of the killing of her son. He approaches her as she and Wright are preparing to leave in their wagon and Anderson tells him to never come near her again.
I also liked the scene when Wright attempts to murder Mitchum but can't. She married him planning to kill him, but what is fascinating is that he knew what she was planning to do, but also knew that she wouldn't be able to do it. He knew her that well. That was a surprising and gratifying moment.
I very much liked the photography of the scene where they buried Prentice, the young man who was manipulated into picking a fight with Mitchum. That scene had an eerie quality which impressed me.
I never did figure out just what happened when the hero was a little boy. The explanations either came out too quickly at the end or else the "restored" sound quality was so poor that I couldn't make them out. It didn't really matter, anyway. What mattered was the story of this man, caught up in an impossible, bewildering situation and how he dealt with it.
Objective, Burma! 1945. Directed by Raoul Walsh.
(8/30/01-9/1/01)
I generally don't like war films. I can't get interested in them and in consequence found Objective, Burma! hard to follow. But I do admire it for its raw, unvarnished look--it seems like a newsreel or documentary--and for Errol Flynn's performance.
Flynn portrays the hero, but without the poetry, the pagentry or the romance. We get right down to the bare bones--the essence--of his hero characterization and he shows us that it's more than just the trappings. Flynn is noble and courageous even without the swords, the cape--or Olivia de Havilland. There is not a single female character in Objective, Burma!
One thing I like very much about the picture is the way the characters become progressively more dishevelled. They really look as if the war is taking its toll on them. The faces become sweatier and lined with stress. Stubble appears on their faces. The film has a very down-to-earth look about it.
Not too much happens in the first part (first half?) of the picture. The men are dropped into Burma to blow up a radio station. It is a straightforward account of how they do this and I didn't find it all that interesting. It is when the plane can't land to pick them up and they become stranded that things become exciting. They are given up for dead by their superiors at one point.
There is a fascinating scene where the men come upon a Buddhist temple where a massacre has taken place. A place of peace has become a place of violence. And the final battle was certainly exciting enough. Objective, Burma! builds into a rousing war film.
George Tobias provides some appropriate comic accents. I'm not going to comment on the portrayal of the Japanese as all brutes because this was, after all, a patriotic war film made during World War II. "Consider the source."
I generally don't like war films. I can't get interested in them and in consequence found Objective, Burma! hard to follow. But I do admire it for its raw, unvarnished look--it seems like a newsreel or documentary--and for Errol Flynn's performance.
Flynn portrays the hero, but without the poetry, the pagentry or the romance. We get right down to the bare bones--the essence--of his hero characterization and he shows us that it's more than just the trappings. Flynn is noble and courageous even without the swords, the cape--or Olivia de Havilland. There is not a single female character in Objective, Burma!
One thing I like very much about the picture is the way the characters become progressively more dishevelled. They really look as if the war is taking its toll on them. The faces become sweatier and lined with stress. Stubble appears on their faces. The film has a very down-to-earth look about it.
Not too much happens in the first part (first half?) of the picture. The men are dropped into Burma to blow up a radio station. It is a straightforward account of how they do this and I didn't find it all that interesting. It is when the plane can't land to pick them up and they become stranded that things become exciting. They are given up for dead by their superiors at one point.
There is a fascinating scene where the men come upon a Buddhist temple where a massacre has taken place. A place of peace has become a place of violence. And the final battle was certainly exciting enough. Objective, Burma! builds into a rousing war film.
George Tobias provides some appropriate comic accents. I'm not going to comment on the portrayal of the Japanese as all brutes because this was, after all, a patriotic war film made during World War II. "Consider the source."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)