(8/17-00-8/21/00)
The British film industry paid a loving tribute to pioneer William Friene-Greene in this lovely, dignified film. Robert Donat does a fine job of portraying him at different ages and many of the British screen's most illustrious performers contributed their presences--people like Cecil Parker, Margaret Rutherford and Laurence Olivier. Jack Cardiff was the cinematographer and the film evokes the Victorian era quite nicely.
The most moving scene is probably the one with Laurence Olivier. Friene-Greene has successfully projected motion pictures in his laboratory. He has to share his moment of triumkph with someone and goes out and finds a policeman. Olivier as the officer first thinks he is dealing with a lunatic. He accompanies him back to the lab and sees the projected scenes of (I think) a parade. He doesn't understand what is going on at first, but eventually gets the idea. Donat is jubilant. Olivier underplays wonderfully and merely says, "You must be a very happy man." This scene conveys the thrill of achievement so beautifully and somehow makes up for all the sadness in the rest of the film.
The rest of the film is sad. It is about a man who is impractical, who can't protect his discovery and who is forgotten. Earlier in the film we had seen another memorable moment. Friene-Greene's son comes home from a fight with another boy. They fought about the father. The other boy shows him an encyclopedia in which Friene-Greene's name isn't even mentioned in reference to the invention of the motion picture camera. "They could have at least mentioned my name," Donat says quietly and sadly.
At the end of the film he makes a speech at a meeting of the most important people of the British film industry. Nobody pays attention to him, but as he goes on this unimportant man begins to speak with a commanding authority. He speaks with a great fervor and belief in the importance and promise of the motion picture. The he dies.
I had never heard of William Friene-Greene and I don't know what role he actually played in the development of the motion picture. I do know, now, that the British film industry held him in great esteem and paid him a dignified and deeply-felt tribute in this production.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Singin' in the Rain. 1952. Directed by Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen.
(8/?/00-8/17/00)
I was very tired when I saw this and the sound was turned so low that I couldn't hear all of it and what I could hear too concentration.
I didn't enjoy Singin' in the Rain as much as An American in Paris. One reason for that is that I don't think that Don Lockwood is as appealing a figure as Jerry Mulligan--although the scene in which Gene Kelly dances to "Singin' in the Rain" is unquestionably his signature scene. (And boy, was that rain one helluva downpour!) Debbie Reynolds didn't have the charm of Leslie Caron and Donald O'Connor was just a little too frenetic for my taste, especially in his solo number "Make 'Em Laugh."
"Moses Supposes" also struck me as kind of silly; perhaps I just wasn't in the mood. That happens.
It's not a favorite of mine, but Singin' in the Rain is a very enjoyable nostalgic piece about Hollywood's changeover to sound. It has a wonderful character in Lina Lamont--a silent film star who has a dreadful, wretched voice. Lina is vain, stupid and unequivocally ruthless. She believes the fan magazine publicity about Don being in love with her, yet has no scruples whatever about preventing Betty (Debbie Reynolds' character) from having her chance at stardom. She is mean-spirited to the core, yet I somehow felt sorry for her at the end when she goes too far and is revealed as a fraud before a large audience.
One of my favorite moments is when Lina gets hit in the face with a pie which was intended for Lockwood. It made me laugh out loud. It was also wonderful to hear wonderful old songs like "You Are My Lucky Star" and "All I Do Is Dream of You." I wasn't that impressed with the big surreal dance number "Gotta Dance." This obviously bore no relation to early Hollywood musicals. And this kind of elaborate "jazz ballet" (for lack of a more precise description), which was a hallmark of the Arthur Freed-produced MGM musicals, is just not as interesting to me as a more simple routine which advances the story. As an example, I'm thinking of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing to "Isn't This a Lovely Day to be Caught in the Rain?" These elaborate, surreal "ballets" just don't do it for me.
But I very much enjoyed the attempts to record Lina Lamont's voice (they can't get her to understand that she has to speak into the microphone) and the wonderful finish where she goes too far and they make Debbie Reynolds coverfor her while she sings, but raise the curtain so everyone knows what's really going on.
I was very tired when I saw this and the sound was turned so low that I couldn't hear all of it and what I could hear too concentration.
I didn't enjoy Singin' in the Rain as much as An American in Paris. One reason for that is that I don't think that Don Lockwood is as appealing a figure as Jerry Mulligan--although the scene in which Gene Kelly dances to "Singin' in the Rain" is unquestionably his signature scene. (And boy, was that rain one helluva downpour!) Debbie Reynolds didn't have the charm of Leslie Caron and Donald O'Connor was just a little too frenetic for my taste, especially in his solo number "Make 'Em Laugh."
"Moses Supposes" also struck me as kind of silly; perhaps I just wasn't in the mood. That happens.
It's not a favorite of mine, but Singin' in the Rain is a very enjoyable nostalgic piece about Hollywood's changeover to sound. It has a wonderful character in Lina Lamont--a silent film star who has a dreadful, wretched voice. Lina is vain, stupid and unequivocally ruthless. She believes the fan magazine publicity about Don being in love with her, yet has no scruples whatever about preventing Betty (Debbie Reynolds' character) from having her chance at stardom. She is mean-spirited to the core, yet I somehow felt sorry for her at the end when she goes too far and is revealed as a fraud before a large audience.
One of my favorite moments is when Lina gets hit in the face with a pie which was intended for Lockwood. It made me laugh out loud. It was also wonderful to hear wonderful old songs like "You Are My Lucky Star" and "All I Do Is Dream of You." I wasn't that impressed with the big surreal dance number "Gotta Dance." This obviously bore no relation to early Hollywood musicals. And this kind of elaborate "jazz ballet" (for lack of a more precise description), which was a hallmark of the Arthur Freed-produced MGM musicals, is just not as interesting to me as a more simple routine which advances the story. As an example, I'm thinking of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing to "Isn't This a Lovely Day to be Caught in the Rain?" These elaborate, surreal "ballets" just don't do it for me.
But I very much enjoyed the attempts to record Lina Lamont's voice (they can't get her to understand that she has to speak into the microphone) and the wonderful finish where she goes too far and they make Debbie Reynolds coverfor her while she sings, but raise the curtain so everyone knows what's really going on.
An American in Paris. 1951. Directed by Vincent Minelli.
(July or August 2000)
George Gershwin was rather unique in that he straddled the worlds of popular and classical music. This presented a problem when making a film based on his music because it seems difficult to integrate his concert music into the film. And that is what seems like the big flaw in An American in Paris. The famous Gershwin songs are irresistable and perfectly worked into the story, but the more serious music just seems out of place. Thus, when Oscar Levant has a fantasy about playing the piano with an orchestra which he is also conducting and for which he is playing multiple violins, it just seems silly.
The big ballet number "An American in Paris" takes us out of the film. As interesting as it is as a self-contained unit it doesn't add anything to the story we have become involved with. It doesn't advance the plot and it doesn't take us into the mind of Jerry Mulligan. It seems kind of ridiculous, in fact, because Jerry is at his lowest ebb right about then. He believes he has lost the girl he loves--so why would his daydream show him dancing so energetically and happily? It doesn't fit the mood of the film at that point. It was just dropped in.
Taken on its own terms the "American in Paris" ballet is very enjoyable. Gene Kelly dances against sets based on popular French painters--Raoul Dufy, Maurice Utrillo, Henri Rousseau, Toulouse-Lautrec. These are artists whose styles have trickled down into the popular imagination.
The songs are used to much more telling effect. In particular, "Our Love Is Here to Stay" makes a wonderful romantic theme which recurs several times after it is sung. It is probably my favorite Gershwin song and perfectly captures the spirit of the story.
One of the best moments in the film is when Gene Kelly and the other guy sing "'S Wonderful." Unbeknownst to each other they are both singing about the same girl. Sandwiched between them is Oscar Levant who does know.
"I Got Rhythm" is also a delight, but "Embraceable You" doesn't come off as well. It is used only as an instrumental for Leslie Caron to dance to as her fiance describes her personality to Gene Kelly. What a waste it is of one of Gershwin's most haunting songs--but it obviously wasn't possible to include everything.
It is interesting to note that this film was released in 1951 when Gerswhin died in 1937. (I think it was '37.) So the film had a nostalgic quality when it was first shown. It is a lovely fairytale of Paris and the Parisian art world--or maybe of the myth of the artist as it exists in the popular imagination.
Gene Kelly is delightful as Jerry Mulligan. He seems so vital, so open-hearted, so good-natured. He is just so positive that his pursuit of Leslie Caron seems acceptable and proper. This is no small feat because his persistance could be viewed--by today's standards--as stalking. But he can pull it off. And boy, is he ever confident about it! I love it when Leslie Caron remarks that it's a pity he doesn't have as much charm as persistance and he comes right back with: "But I do--you've only seen the aggressive side." He acts very aggressive, but he has the personality to back it up with.
Leslie Caron has all the innocence and sensitivity that her part requires. And Oscar Levant gives the whole thing just enough of an edge to keep it from seeming too sweet or schmaltzy. And there is a reasonably interesting sub-plot about a wealthy American woman who wants to help Jerry Mulligan's career, but who has designs on him as well. To take a line from one of those classic Gershwin songs: "Who could ask for anything more?"
George Gershwin was rather unique in that he straddled the worlds of popular and classical music. This presented a problem when making a film based on his music because it seems difficult to integrate his concert music into the film. And that is what seems like the big flaw in An American in Paris. The famous Gershwin songs are irresistable and perfectly worked into the story, but the more serious music just seems out of place. Thus, when Oscar Levant has a fantasy about playing the piano with an orchestra which he is also conducting and for which he is playing multiple violins, it just seems silly.
The big ballet number "An American in Paris" takes us out of the film. As interesting as it is as a self-contained unit it doesn't add anything to the story we have become involved with. It doesn't advance the plot and it doesn't take us into the mind of Jerry Mulligan. It seems kind of ridiculous, in fact, because Jerry is at his lowest ebb right about then. He believes he has lost the girl he loves--so why would his daydream show him dancing so energetically and happily? It doesn't fit the mood of the film at that point. It was just dropped in.
Taken on its own terms the "American in Paris" ballet is very enjoyable. Gene Kelly dances against sets based on popular French painters--Raoul Dufy, Maurice Utrillo, Henri Rousseau, Toulouse-Lautrec. These are artists whose styles have trickled down into the popular imagination.
The songs are used to much more telling effect. In particular, "Our Love Is Here to Stay" makes a wonderful romantic theme which recurs several times after it is sung. It is probably my favorite Gershwin song and perfectly captures the spirit of the story.
One of the best moments in the film is when Gene Kelly and the other guy sing "'S Wonderful." Unbeknownst to each other they are both singing about the same girl. Sandwiched between them is Oscar Levant who does know.
"I Got Rhythm" is also a delight, but "Embraceable You" doesn't come off as well. It is used only as an instrumental for Leslie Caron to dance to as her fiance describes her personality to Gene Kelly. What a waste it is of one of Gershwin's most haunting songs--but it obviously wasn't possible to include everything.
It is interesting to note that this film was released in 1951 when Gerswhin died in 1937. (I think it was '37.) So the film had a nostalgic quality when it was first shown. It is a lovely fairytale of Paris and the Parisian art world--or maybe of the myth of the artist as it exists in the popular imagination.
Gene Kelly is delightful as Jerry Mulligan. He seems so vital, so open-hearted, so good-natured. He is just so positive that his pursuit of Leslie Caron seems acceptable and proper. This is no small feat because his persistance could be viewed--by today's standards--as stalking. But he can pull it off. And boy, is he ever confident about it! I love it when Leslie Caron remarks that it's a pity he doesn't have as much charm as persistance and he comes right back with: "But I do--you've only seen the aggressive side." He acts very aggressive, but he has the personality to back it up with.
Leslie Caron has all the innocence and sensitivity that her part requires. And Oscar Levant gives the whole thing just enough of an edge to keep it from seeming too sweet or schmaltzy. And there is a reasonably interesting sub-plot about a wealthy American woman who wants to help Jerry Mulligan's career, but who has designs on him as well. To take a line from one of those classic Gershwin songs: "Who could ask for anything more?"
The Woman in the Window. 1944. Directed by Fritz Lang.
(July or August 2000)
Another man comes to ruin because of a woman. Fritz Lang's film is a nightmare--literally. The whole film is brutally disfigured by the ending which reveals the whole thing to be a dream.
Dream or not, there is a sadness which hangs over the film. Edward G. Robinson has an affectionate relationship with his wife who goes away on a vacation, yet he admits he hates the restrictions placed on his life and the fact that he can't seek adventure. His middle-aged friends tease him about this.
He has a dream about an involvement with a glamorous young woman, murder, blackmail and eventual suicide. It is like this film skirts dangerous territory but had to pull back and provide the relief of a dream ending. And the ending really does provide a great sense of relief.
I really enjoyed the shots of city streets at night, particularly when it was raining. The film revels in its description of police work and it is delightful when Robinson makes slips which indicate that he is more familiar with the events than he would like the others to realize. My favorite is when he and his detective friends go to visit the spot where the body was discovered and Robinson starts leading the way, like he knows just where the body was found. (He does.)
There is a real spark to the scene where blackmailer Dan Duryea comes to Joan Bennett's apartment. There is a real chemistry between the two of them.
The dream ending actually covers up at least one hole in the story. Robinson knows that Dan Duryea can't go to the police with his information because he is wanted on other charges. So why all the worry and fuss? The fact that it's a dream also takes care of the problem that Robinson and Bennett never even consider the factor that the killing was done in self-defense.
It's quite fascinating how the dead Dan Duryea is taken for the killer. This is omething which will happen again in Scarlet Street, only in that film he is quite alive when it happens. In both cases he becomes what is referred to in gangster films as "the fall guy."
Another man comes to ruin because of a woman. Fritz Lang's film is a nightmare--literally. The whole film is brutally disfigured by the ending which reveals the whole thing to be a dream.
Dream or not, there is a sadness which hangs over the film. Edward G. Robinson has an affectionate relationship with his wife who goes away on a vacation, yet he admits he hates the restrictions placed on his life and the fact that he can't seek adventure. His middle-aged friends tease him about this.
He has a dream about an involvement with a glamorous young woman, murder, blackmail and eventual suicide. It is like this film skirts dangerous territory but had to pull back and provide the relief of a dream ending. And the ending really does provide a great sense of relief.
I really enjoyed the shots of city streets at night, particularly when it was raining. The film revels in its description of police work and it is delightful when Robinson makes slips which indicate that he is more familiar with the events than he would like the others to realize. My favorite is when he and his detective friends go to visit the spot where the body was discovered and Robinson starts leading the way, like he knows just where the body was found. (He does.)
There is a real spark to the scene where blackmailer Dan Duryea comes to Joan Bennett's apartment. There is a real chemistry between the two of them.
The dream ending actually covers up at least one hole in the story. Robinson knows that Dan Duryea can't go to the police with his information because he is wanted on other charges. So why all the worry and fuss? The fact that it's a dream also takes care of the problem that Robinson and Bennett never even consider the factor that the killing was done in self-defense.
It's quite fascinating how the dead Dan Duryea is taken for the killer. This is omething which will happen again in Scarlet Street, only in that film he is quite alive when it happens. In both cases he becomes what is referred to in gangster films as "the fall guy."
Thursday, March 4, 2010
North By Northwest. 1959. Directed by Alfred Hitchcock.
(7/27/00)
I am not going to say much about this wonderful film which is one of my favorites. I am just going to set down a few thoughts that came to me this time around.
Eva Marie Saint is obviously playing a Grace Kelly part. I wonder if Kelly (in her prime) would have been better. She certainly had more of the stature of an icon to match against Cary Grant, but I wonder. Would that stature have made so much of a difference? Eva Marie Saint pulls it off with such perfect poise that Grace Kelly just somehow doesn't seem adequate.
The scene between Grant and Saint in the dining car is just done so well that it is always enjoyable, no matter how many times you see it. Saint's up-front, no-nonsense sexual invitation goes so against the manners of the time that it takes someone with the assurance of a Cary Grant to take it in stride.
I loved the scene in the bathroom at the train station when Cary Grant has to shave with Eva Marie Saint's tiny razor with another fellow looking on. I hadn't remembered that. It's just another example of the wit and imagination that flows so freely in this film.
I really enjoyed Grant's cruelty towards Saint at the auction scene. She is a woman who has been exploited and used and did what she did in order to protect herself, but yet Grant's cruel, bitter response strikes a deep chord. Perhaps it is out of a sense of feeling vulnerable to women myself. And the fact is that, whatever the reason, she really did use sex in an attempt to lure a man to his death.
North By Northwest has a closer kinship to Notorious than I had realized. In both films a woman is used by the American government to take advatage of a man who is really in love with her. The woman consents to this arrangement so she is at the same time both victim and villaness. (Vandamm's feelings towards his mistress are made clear when he refuses Grant's offer of his silence in exchange for the opportunity to send Eve Kendall to prison.)
In both Notorious and North By Northwest the villain comes across as likable. Eve says of Vandamm that she fell in love with him and saw only his charm. An argument can be made that in this film the villain really isn't even a villain at all. He imports and exports. What? "Government secrets, perhaps," says the Professor. The government is shown to be an ugly institution that plays games with people's lives and degrades the people that get enmeshed in those games. So is there anything really wrong in trying to make a profit importing and exporting its secrets? I have no doubt that the Professor and his cronies would gladly do business with Vandamm if he had anything to sell that they wanted.
The Professor refuses to lift a finger to help Roger Thornhill until it suits his interest. And then he goes to him for help and gets it by lying to him. To Thornhill's credit he then takes matters into his own hands and goes out on his own to save the damsel in distress. However, there is one bizarre twist in that it takes those government agents to save Thornhill and Kendall on the faces at Mount Rushmore.
I can't help wondering what lies they told Eve Kendall to get her to help them. These people will stop at nothing. And Cary Grant's speech about how you ought to start losing a few cold wars is simple, direct and to the point. It is an amazingly subversive thing to hear in a big-budget movie of 1959.
I marvelled at the sheer imagination that came up with something like the murder at the U.N. building. That was such a brilliant idea. I really enjoyed the scenes, early in the film, when Cary Grant is trying to get people to believe him. I liked the exterior shots from the train ride; I hadn't noticed them before and they are indeed beautiful.
The finale on the faces at Mount Rushmore didn't do much for me this time, but that is only because it made such an impression in the past.
I am not going to say much about this wonderful film which is one of my favorites. I am just going to set down a few thoughts that came to me this time around.
Eva Marie Saint is obviously playing a Grace Kelly part. I wonder if Kelly (in her prime) would have been better. She certainly had more of the stature of an icon to match against Cary Grant, but I wonder. Would that stature have made so much of a difference? Eva Marie Saint pulls it off with such perfect poise that Grace Kelly just somehow doesn't seem adequate.
The scene between Grant and Saint in the dining car is just done so well that it is always enjoyable, no matter how many times you see it. Saint's up-front, no-nonsense sexual invitation goes so against the manners of the time that it takes someone with the assurance of a Cary Grant to take it in stride.
I loved the scene in the bathroom at the train station when Cary Grant has to shave with Eva Marie Saint's tiny razor with another fellow looking on. I hadn't remembered that. It's just another example of the wit and imagination that flows so freely in this film.
I really enjoyed Grant's cruelty towards Saint at the auction scene. She is a woman who has been exploited and used and did what she did in order to protect herself, but yet Grant's cruel, bitter response strikes a deep chord. Perhaps it is out of a sense of feeling vulnerable to women myself. And the fact is that, whatever the reason, she really did use sex in an attempt to lure a man to his death.
North By Northwest has a closer kinship to Notorious than I had realized. In both films a woman is used by the American government to take advatage of a man who is really in love with her. The woman consents to this arrangement so she is at the same time both victim and villaness. (Vandamm's feelings towards his mistress are made clear when he refuses Grant's offer of his silence in exchange for the opportunity to send Eve Kendall to prison.)
In both Notorious and North By Northwest the villain comes across as likable. Eve says of Vandamm that she fell in love with him and saw only his charm. An argument can be made that in this film the villain really isn't even a villain at all. He imports and exports. What? "Government secrets, perhaps," says the Professor. The government is shown to be an ugly institution that plays games with people's lives and degrades the people that get enmeshed in those games. So is there anything really wrong in trying to make a profit importing and exporting its secrets? I have no doubt that the Professor and his cronies would gladly do business with Vandamm if he had anything to sell that they wanted.
The Professor refuses to lift a finger to help Roger Thornhill until it suits his interest. And then he goes to him for help and gets it by lying to him. To Thornhill's credit he then takes matters into his own hands and goes out on his own to save the damsel in distress. However, there is one bizarre twist in that it takes those government agents to save Thornhill and Kendall on the faces at Mount Rushmore.
I can't help wondering what lies they told Eve Kendall to get her to help them. These people will stop at nothing. And Cary Grant's speech about how you ought to start losing a few cold wars is simple, direct and to the point. It is an amazingly subversive thing to hear in a big-budget movie of 1959.
I marvelled at the sheer imagination that came up with something like the murder at the U.N. building. That was such a brilliant idea. I really enjoyed the scenes, early in the film, when Cary Grant is trying to get people to believe him. I liked the exterior shots from the train ride; I hadn't noticed them before and they are indeed beautiful.
The finale on the faces at Mount Rushmore didn't do much for me this time, but that is only because it made such an impression in the past.
Laura. 1944. Directed by Otto Preminger.
(7/25/00-7/27/00)
Clifton Webb's character Waldo Lydecker is what comes to mind most vividly when I think of Laura. We take delight in his shameless nastiness, his ability to revel in bad manners while seeming impeccably mannered and superior to all around him. His dialogue is brilliant and his delivery is completely worthy of it.
We first see Mr. Lydecker in a sunken bathtub greeting a police officer. I think he may be working at a typewriter. He is completely unflappable and in supreme command of the situaltion, making sarcastic remarks to the detective that most of us would not have the guts to say.
And yet, for all his wit and brilliance, Waldo is a pathetic man. He is very sexually vulnerable to a brilliant young woman. He befriends her, mentors her, and yet she keeps being attracted to younger men. She likes hunks, which is one thing Waldo isn't.
The thing that gets to me is that Waldo seems completely deceiving of this female. He has a lot to offer and yet, while his friendship is accepted, love seems to be out of the question. Whether they ever had sex is left an unanswered question.
Lydecker is another character who meets his downfall at the hands of a woman. When Laura is about to marry another man he attempts to kill her, actually taking another woman's life by mistake. At the end he attempts a second time to murder her. Unsatisfiable passion is the cause of his ruin. And I think that there really is love there because his sying words are a sad, "Goodbye, Laura."
The relationship between Laura, her fiance Shelby and the model Diane was confusing to me. I was never able to wuite see what was going on. Did Shelby really love Laura? Was he basically a nice guy or a creep? Was Laura attracted to him in spite of knowing better? Was Diane just throwing herself at him or was it something mutual? And what about the older woman who tells Laura that she should marry Shelby? "I know he's no good, but you can afford him," she says, or words to that effect. It all doesn't add up.
One relationship which is really interesting is that between the police detective and Laura. He becomes infatuated with her when he believes she is dead and bids on her portrait. This almost seems like a blueprint for Hitchcock's Vertigo, especially when it turns out that Laura is very much alive.
There is a haunting scene in which the detective, having fallen asleep in Laura's apartment, wakes up to find himself staring at the woman whose murder he has been investigating. Unfortunately, this scene doesn't play as well as it should. It hasn't been prepared for well enough--I don't think so, anyway. The real problem is that there is so much going on in this picture that it really doesn't have much of a chance for impact.
Waldo Lydecker sneers at the detective as he does at all of his other rivals. But his contempt is unwarranted. The detective seems to be quite competent in his field. He is certainly intelligent in his own way. I think Waldo's problem is showing a smug contempt for fleshiness while secretly craving it.
Still, as Waldo Lydecker Clifton Webb steals the show. He makes more of an impact than Gene Tierny's Laura. His great moment comes when he sees Laura alive and passes out on the floor. And it is enjoyable to see a young Vincent Price as Shelby Carpenter. It's too bad his character is so confusing.
Clifton Webb's character Waldo Lydecker is what comes to mind most vividly when I think of Laura. We take delight in his shameless nastiness, his ability to revel in bad manners while seeming impeccably mannered and superior to all around him. His dialogue is brilliant and his delivery is completely worthy of it.
We first see Mr. Lydecker in a sunken bathtub greeting a police officer. I think he may be working at a typewriter. He is completely unflappable and in supreme command of the situaltion, making sarcastic remarks to the detective that most of us would not have the guts to say.
And yet, for all his wit and brilliance, Waldo is a pathetic man. He is very sexually vulnerable to a brilliant young woman. He befriends her, mentors her, and yet she keeps being attracted to younger men. She likes hunks, which is one thing Waldo isn't.
The thing that gets to me is that Waldo seems completely deceiving of this female. He has a lot to offer and yet, while his friendship is accepted, love seems to be out of the question. Whether they ever had sex is left an unanswered question.
Lydecker is another character who meets his downfall at the hands of a woman. When Laura is about to marry another man he attempts to kill her, actually taking another woman's life by mistake. At the end he attempts a second time to murder her. Unsatisfiable passion is the cause of his ruin. And I think that there really is love there because his sying words are a sad, "Goodbye, Laura."
The relationship between Laura, her fiance Shelby and the model Diane was confusing to me. I was never able to wuite see what was going on. Did Shelby really love Laura? Was he basically a nice guy or a creep? Was Laura attracted to him in spite of knowing better? Was Diane just throwing herself at him or was it something mutual? And what about the older woman who tells Laura that she should marry Shelby? "I know he's no good, but you can afford him," she says, or words to that effect. It all doesn't add up.
One relationship which is really interesting is that between the police detective and Laura. He becomes infatuated with her when he believes she is dead and bids on her portrait. This almost seems like a blueprint for Hitchcock's Vertigo, especially when it turns out that Laura is very much alive.
There is a haunting scene in which the detective, having fallen asleep in Laura's apartment, wakes up to find himself staring at the woman whose murder he has been investigating. Unfortunately, this scene doesn't play as well as it should. It hasn't been prepared for well enough--I don't think so, anyway. The real problem is that there is so much going on in this picture that it really doesn't have much of a chance for impact.
Waldo Lydecker sneers at the detective as he does at all of his other rivals. But his contempt is unwarranted. The detective seems to be quite competent in his field. He is certainly intelligent in his own way. I think Waldo's problem is showing a smug contempt for fleshiness while secretly craving it.
Still, as Waldo Lydecker Clifton Webb steals the show. He makes more of an impact than Gene Tierny's Laura. His great moment comes when he sees Laura alive and passes out on the floor. And it is enjoyable to see a young Vincent Price as Shelby Carpenter. It's too bad his character is so confusing.
The Killers. 1946. Directed by Robert Siodmak.
(7/24/00)
The Killers is a film about betrayal. Burt Lancaster is double-crossed and betrayed by treacherous Ava Gardner. It is also--simply--the story of a man's downfall through a woman. This is a common subject in films of the period. Two examples that come to mind are Laura and Scarlet Street.
It has quite an opening. Two killers come into a diner, looking for their target. They indulge in classic "tough guy" banter. A friend goes to warn their intended victim, played by Burt Lancaster. He knows they are coming for him. He has accepted this as inevitable and doesn't even bother to run away from it. He just quietly waits in his room to be murdered.
It is fascinating and jarring that we don't see the murder. We do see the killers come to the man's room and then suddenly it is over. It seemed to be a very abrupt jump to me.
There is the planning of a robbery in Hackensack which is interesting. Ava Gardner has a great moment at the end. When her husband is shot she keeps pleading with him to say she is innocent and clear her, even though he is already dead. It really leaves a bitter taste.
Overall, I found the film complicated and hard to follow. That might be because I was very tired.
The Killers is a film about betrayal. Burt Lancaster is double-crossed and betrayed by treacherous Ava Gardner. It is also--simply--the story of a man's downfall through a woman. This is a common subject in films of the period. Two examples that come to mind are Laura and Scarlet Street.
It has quite an opening. Two killers come into a diner, looking for their target. They indulge in classic "tough guy" banter. A friend goes to warn their intended victim, played by Burt Lancaster. He knows they are coming for him. He has accepted this as inevitable and doesn't even bother to run away from it. He just quietly waits in his room to be murdered.
It is fascinating and jarring that we don't see the murder. We do see the killers come to the man's room and then suddenly it is over. It seemed to be a very abrupt jump to me.
There is the planning of a robbery in Hackensack which is interesting. Ava Gardner has a great moment at the end. When her husband is shot she keeps pleading with him to say she is innocent and clear her, even though he is already dead. It really leaves a bitter taste.
Overall, I found the film complicated and hard to follow. That might be because I was very tired.
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