All the King's Men (1949).

Review #1373: All the King's Men.

Cast: 
Broderick Crawford (Willie Stark), John Ireland (Jack Burden), Joanne Dru (Anne Stanton), John Derek (Tom Stark), Mercedes McCambridge (Sadie Burke), Shepperd Strudwick (Adam Stanton), Ralph Dumke (Tiny Duffy), Anne Seymour (Mrs. Lucy Stark), Katharine Warren (Mrs. Burden), Raymond Greenleaf (Judge Monte Stanton), and Walter Burke (Sugar Boy) Directed, Written and Produced by Robert Rossen (#702 - The Hustler)

Review: 
One can hope to make at least one great film or at least hope to be part of a prestige picture worth talking about. This is a film to be proud of in terms of its directing and acting. Robert Rossen directed just ten films before his death at the age of 57, but he managed to make films in a variety of genres successfully, such as noir, drama and thriller. He had gone from hustling pool as a youth to being a stage manager, with the passage of time leading to him writing and directing his own plays. He went to Hollywood as a screenwriter after being discovered by Mervyn LeRoy of Warner Brothers in 1936. In the eleven years that followed before his directorial debut, he served as a writer for a few films along with being chair of the Hollywood Writers Mobilization during World War II. He jumped around a few studios before finding himself with Columbia Pictures. If you can believe it, Crawford was not the first choice for the main role. It was actually John Wayne who was offered the role first. He angrily rejected the role in a letter, calling the script an acidic one on the "American way of life" (among other statements that make me roll my eyes). The son (and grandson) of vaudevillians, Crawford found himself on stage and film by the time he was in his twenties, with usual roles being in B-moves or in supporting roles. It was this film that he became a star, and he would later find himself with further notability with Highway Patrol in the following decade.
The film was based off the 1946 novel of the same name by Robert Penn Warren, which had won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction the following year. There has been considerable discussion about the novel over its themes and inspirations, with the most notable being over the resemblance of its main character to governor/senator Huey Long, since Warren had taught at Louisiana State University at the time of Long's unexpected death, although Warren once said that book was never intended to be a book about politics, since to his eyes it merely served as a provider to the framework story to work out the deeper concerns. The book has had two further adaptations, in terms of an opera (named after the lead character), and a 2006 adaptation from Steven Zaillian that attempted to be more faithful to the novel that changed the setting to the early 1950s.

One is swept into the film fairly quickly, a drama that plays like a noir with a sense of urgency and furor that sweeps a viewer away in making compelling entertainment. Crawford proves to be a master of intimidation, one who leaves an imprint on you every time he appears, a presence that strikes at you with all of his might that has the right mix of brashness alongside insecurity. Ireland follows along just fine, an observer of the noir kind that we follow through his brooding eyes. Dru and Derek accompany him just as carefully. McCambridge (a noted radio actress in her debut) proves to be quite electrifying, a hardboiled presence that resonates with rough versatility. The others prove to be worthy supporting presences that seem like pawns in the hands of material that desires as such. It is an urgent film, wrapped in cynical honesty that still works in relevancy for the most part after seven decades. The biggest achievement is that the film came out the way it did at all. There were problems in whittling the film to salvageability because of how much footage Rossen shot. Editor Al Clark could only edit it down to 250 minutes (in part because of Rossen's reluctance to really cut anything), so it fell to the hands of Robert Parrish to help with edits. Together, Rossen and Parrish agreed to edit the film like a series of impressions, where they would roll the film on the synchronizer and find the center of each scene and cut arbitrarily 100 feet before and after each center, regardless of dialogue or music. The result is a 110 minute quickfire winner. The film was certainly a deserving hit, and it later won for Best Picture at the Academy Awards the following year, beating out such films like A Letter to Three Wives (which won director-writer Joseph L. Mankiewicz awards over Rossen for directing and writing) for the main prize alongside Crawford and McCambridge. On the whole, this is a film that has plenty of blunt force in terms of what it wants to say about the nature of power and how one can find themselves ensnared in the same traps they held others to if they reach that point, headlined by Crawford and his domineering presence that makes this a fair one to recommend.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

And now, the list for next month. Several faces join the crowd for the 1950s, a mix of directors and stars that have either been covered before or haven't before, complete with a rollout of world cinema debuts.

Fort Apache.

Review #1372: Fort Apache.

Cast: 
John Wayne (Capt. Kirby York), Henry Fonda (Lt. Col. Owen Thursday), Ward Bond (Sgt. Major Michael O'Rourke), Shirley Temple (Miss Philadelphia Thursday), John Agar (Lt. Michael Shannon "Mickey" O'Rourke), Dick Foran (Sgt. Quincannon), Pedro Armendariz (Sgt. Beaufort), Miguel Inclan (Cochise), Victor McLaglen (Sgt. Festus Mulcahy), Guy Kibbee (Capt. Wilkens), Anna Lee (Emily Collingwood), George O'Brien (Capt. Sam Collingwood), Jack Pennick (Sgt. Daniel Schattuck), Irene Rich (Mary O'Rourke), and Grant Withers (Silas Meacham) Directed by John Ford (#398 - The Last Hurrah and #1324 - 3 Bad Men, and #1349 - Stagecoach)

Review: 
"Anybody can direct a picture once they know the fundamentals. Directing is not a mystery, it's not an art. The main thing about directing is: photograph the people's eyes."

Legends can be an interesting thing to think about when relating to film, depending on who has the vision to make it come alive more so than if one just went to a museum or read a book. As such, it should prove no surprise that this was based on a prior work, in this case a 1947 short story "Massacre", written by James Warner Bellah in The Saturday Evening Post, which was adapted to film by Frank Nugent. It had utilized two historical battles involving Native Americans in their fight against the US Army in the 19th century with the Fetterman Fight and The Battle of Little Big Horn, particularly the leader of the latter battle, George Armstrong Custer, whose certainly has had a debatable reputation that has certainly had varied opinions over his leadership decisions in the battle that led to his death, with the efforts of his widow campaigning on his behalf helping to mold Custer into a legend for a great deal of the 20th century. This is a film that has its own view on Native American alongside a parallel of Custer in its film, which certainly does seem a bit different from the old-fashioned fare from Westerns of its time (compare this film to Unconquered, for example). It is the first film of what is referred to as director-producer Ford's "cavalry trilogy", with each of the films (the others being She Wore a Yellow Ribbon and Rio Grande) featuring Wayne as the main star along with adapting short stories from Bellah in each of the films. It should prove no surprise to see Wayne and Fonda in a Western, since they both stood out in their decades-long careers for their work in them, with the former making roughly one-to-three films a year for this decade; Fonda had slowed his versatile career due to serving in World War II, and he decided to return to the stage, not appearing again in a feature role for the next seven years. This happened to be the fifth-to-last role for Temple along with the first for Agar (an Army Air Corps man who served in World War II), with the two having married three years earlier. One particular person who found themselves a break was Ben Johnson, the champion rodeo cowboy-turned stuntman that found himself with an acting contract because of his help with stopping a runaway wagon from a potential deadly accident.

One will find themselves impressed with the way that Ford handles this capable tale of the nature of leadership and heroism with solid foundation to make fine entertainment. This is a film that Fonda and Wayne share with equal strength of solid acting that match like bighorned sheep on the grass. On one side is the tactically stubborn but capable humane performance from Fonda and on the other is the practical reliability of Wayne in the face of anyone. Bond makes for a fine presence, engaging with rugged rough charm that made him a character actor worth having throughout the years. Temple and Agar are okay, with fair chemistry. Foran and the others make for capable camaraderie through the moments they have on screen in making this regiment as interesting as it needs to be when setting up its conflict - whether within or with its possible enemy. The battles certainly are well-executed, even when one knows the inevitability provided by its inspiration, particularly with its lasting point about legends and glory in perspective of the one who writes it, whether that seems right or not. One is left in awe of the towering Monument Valley when seeing it in the film, particularly with the use of infrared film stock, which was utilized in outdoor sequences to enhance the scenery. There were a few quibbles with the script with stuff one might not expect. Concerns involved a manure pile scene, a shot of dead troopers, keeping contact with the Humane Society when dealing with animals, and an order to not show a toilet on screen (I kid you not). In any case, this is a relatively interesting film, one with a solid cast and ambitions beyond the usual Western of conflict that make it a worthwhile Ford film for its era.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Unconquered (1947).

Review #1371: Unconquered.

Cast:
Gary Cooper (Captain Christopher Holden), Paulette Goddard (Abby Hale), Howard Da Silva (Martin Garth), Boris Karloff (Guyasuta, Chief of the Senecas), Cecil Kellaway (Jeremy Love), Ward Bond (John Fraser), Virginia Campbell (Mrs. John Fraser), Katherine DeMille (Hannah), Henry Wilcoxon (Captain Steele), C. Aubrey Smith (Lord Chief Justice), and Victor Varconi (Captain Simeon Ecuyer) Directed and Produced by Cecil B. DeMille (#1245 - The Squaw Man)

Review: 
"Creativity is a drug I cannot live without."

When it comes to innovators and crucial pieces of cinema to link past and present, Cecil B. DeMille serves as a key member of sound and silent cinema for America. He made 70 films from 1914 to 1958 that were known for their epic scale and showmanship. He developed a love of the theater from his playwright father (who suddenly died when Cecil was 11), and he graduated from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts (after time with military college) in 1900. He started his career as an actor that same year, and he would later turn to directing and producing plays in the 1910s. He was soon introduced to Broadway producer Jesse L. Lasky by his producer mother Beatrice, and the two would join forces with Samuel Goldwyn alongside Oscar Apfel to form the Jesse L. Lasky Feature Play Company in 1913, with their studio being a barn in Hollywood, one of the first in the region that is now a state landmark (named after Lasky and DeMille). Their landmark first feature was from DeMille and Apfel with The Squaw Man (1914), which was DeMille's debut (he of course would later film two remakes of the material). DeMlle spent his time directing numerous films nonstop, with his style soon being characterized by having extensive research that turned into collaboration with writers to mold a story together in his vision, which also applied to his efforts on visuals along with editing and lighting. He did not tend to give direction much to actors, preferring to work with them in the office with read-throughs as opposed to doing so on set, where he was an authoritarian that commanded attention from his cast and crew, no matter how big they could be. Actors who did not want to take physical risks for the sake of the film could incur his wrath, such as with this film, where Goddard objected to risk herself for a scene with hurling fireballs (which not surprisingly was proven correct when the stuntwoman later got burned for the scene). He didn't speak to her for years and later denied her a role in one of his subsequent films. Although he is known for his spectacle epics, he directed a variety of genres over the course of his career, ranging from Westerns to romances to comedies, with numerous highlights being Cleopatra (1934), The Greatest Show on Earth (1952, his lone Best Picture win), and The Ten Commandments (1956, a remake of his 1923 film that served as his last venture), and he has served as influence and inspiration to directors such as Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese.

The film was written by Charles Bennett, Fredric M. Frank and Jesse Lasky Jr, with un-credited work by Jeanie Macpherson. DeMille had been inspired by The Judas Tree, Neil Swanson's novel about people who had been sent to 18th century America to be sold as slaves after conviction in England. Despite hiring two experts to research about the topic of colonial slavery, he wanted to romanticize the American colonial conquest more than anything else, which means that the final result is a film that seems to go anywhere it wants with its colonial setting, certainly seeming the part with costumes and its cinematography from Ray Rennahan than with other aspects, a ridiculously watchable curiosity. It certainly does seem a bit bloated at 146 minutes, complete with a $4.3 million budget and a shooting schedule that was just as excessive and a battle sequence that had over 800 extras and plenty of dynamite. Cooper (in his fourth and final collaboration with DeMille) pulls off a subtle performance as usual, one that we care to follow along with no trouble because of how natural he plays the hero. Goddard drives the screen with some passion, rolling just fine in chemistry with Cooper in a rustled role that seems fitted for a dime-store novel, complete with color to really emphasize her bright hair for sequences such as the impromptu auction or the bathing one. Da Silva (known for his stage work alongside his work in film) makes for a conniving adversary that the audience can seethe at whenever sharing the screen with either lead, although the climax certainly proves anticlimactic for both sides. Karloff (who was asked to study the Seneca language for the role) seems reserved here for his brief time on screen. Kellaway and Bond give a moment of levity or two, at least. One may very well call this film kitsch and get away with it because of how silly it can get with characters and situations (particularly when relating to history) so overblown that might make The Outlaw and Duel in the Sun bat an eye. It doesn't mean I despise the film however, since there are aspects in terms of cast and design that do tend to work out well - if you are going to make a film resemble a damsel-in-distress novel with big costumes, one can't go too wrong with something like this, which is too long, too big and too perfect for a few moments to gawk and perhaps have amusement with, for better or worse.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Life with Father.

Review #1370: Life with Father.

Cast: 
William Powell (Clarence Day Sr), Irene Dunne (Vinnie Day), Elizabeth Taylor (Mary Skinner), Edmund Gwenn (Rev. Dr. Lloyd), ZaSu Pitts (Cousin Cora Cartwright), Jimmy Lydon (Clarence Day Jr), Emma Dunn (Margaret the Cook), Moroni Olsen (Dr. Humphries), Elizabeth Risdon (Mrs. Whitehead), and Martin Milner (John Day) Directed by Michael Curtiz (#125 - Casablanca, #416 - Yankee Doodle Dandy, #505 - The Adventures of Robin Hood, #529 - Mildred Pierce, and #719 - Mystery of the Wax Museum)

Review:
"I put all the art into my pictures that I think the audience can stand."

What better way to accompany the 1940s than a family picture based on established material of the time? The film was based on the 1935 autobiographical book of the same name by Clarence Day, Jr, who had based it on episodes of humor in his family life, specifically his father in the 1890s. He died of pneumonia that year, but a follow-up book called Life with Mother was published posthumously in 1937. Two years later, the books were adapted into a play called Life with Father by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, which ran for 3,224 performances in nearly eight years, and it still ranks as the longest running non-musical play on Broadway. The film was adapted to the screen by Donald Ogden Stewart (who you might recognize for his work on films such as Love Affair and The Philadelphia Story). It should prove no surprise that the film came from prolific director Michael Curtiz (who was 38 when he left Hungary for Hollywood, who could do a variety of genres through his own kind of visual style involving camera movement and lighting that combined with his intense style of activity (such as skipping lunch), with his friends nicknaming him "Iron Mike" for his fitness; in his 49-year career, he directed a total of 166 films before his death in 1962. 

It is evident from the roughly $4.7 million budget that Warner Brothers wanted to make a big achievement in making this book-turned-play-turned film an engaging one that draws on the humor that its brash patriarch inspires, with varying results. I can't necessarily say that this is a great comedy, since it does tend to veer on the edge of being dated, but there is a decent cast and useful production value that makes it a fair curiosity. Powell commands the film with fairly amusing results, drawing a few laughs in his attempts in family humor with his type of bluster that seems somewhat relevant for a family comedy. Dunne (in a role that she found rattlebrained that took coaxing to do from Curtiz) accompanies him with her own kind of charm, matching in dignity through fair chemistry with Powell. Taylor, who had risen to teen star earlier in the decade with National Velvet (1944), does well with grace whenever on screen, having the most presence among the teenagers and children despite having scattered focus. Gwenn contributes with warmth and dignity that is to be expected from him.  The film treads okay at 118 minutes, showcasing a 3-strip Technicolor tale of a comedy of manners that inspires chuckles more than yawns, even if it is entirely predictable (regardless of what era it was made in, I suppose). Life with Father is an average film with prominent talent and a prominent place because of its public domain status that makes it a decent gem worth looking for its look at a quirky family and the situations that come with them.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Duel in the Sun.

Review #1369: Duel in the Sun.

Cast: 
Jennifer Jones (Pearl Chavez), Joseph Cotten (Jesse McCanles), Gregory Peck (Lewton McCanles), Lionel Barrymore (Senator Jackson McCanles), Lillian Gish (Laura Belle McCanles), Walter Huston (Jubal Crabbe, The Sinkiller), Charles Bickford (Sam Pierce), Harry Carey (Lem Smoot), Charles Dingle (Sheriff Hardy), Herbert Marshall (Scott Chavez), Sidney Blackmer (The "Lover" of Mrs. Chavez), and Butterfly McQueen (Vashti) Directed by King Vidor (#987 - Show People and #1015 - Bardelys the Magnificent)

Review:
Sometimes one can really sense the grip of a producer when it comes to how a film comes out. One such producer in terms of presence is David O. Selznick. He was the son of silent movie producer distributor Lewis J. Selznick, who had established film companies at important locations in film locations: World Film Company in Fort Lee, New Jersey and Selznick Pictures in California. At the age of 24 in 1926, the young Selznick went to Hollywood, finding his way to assistant story editor at MGM, and he moved his way around in the prevailing years from MGM to Paramount to RKO, becoming Head of Production in 1931 before going back to MGM in 1933, complete with a production unit for himself much in the same way Irving Thalberg (ill in health at the time) had. However, he desired to have his own studio for production, so he found a backlot and studio to lease out through RKO. He produced numerous films from 1936 to 1940 (distributed through different studios), such as A Star is Born (1937), Nothing Sacred (1937) and his two crowning achievements in Gone with the Wind (1939) and Rebecca (1940), both winning Best Picture for their respective years. He dissolved the company in 1940, taking some time off from production and loaning out some of his contracted stars and directors to other studios. In 1943 and 1946, he formed Vanguard Films and Selznick Releasing Organization to return to production and distribution, respectively. He attempted hard to try and top the successes of the past he had, with mixed results, later stating that he wasted his life trying to outdo it, and he stopped his independent productions in 1948, going on to co-produce films with other makers, with his last venture being the star-crossed A Farewell to Arms (1957). When it comes to this film, Selznick spared no expense in terms of budget and turbulent production from start to finish. Some films may have an uncredited director when it comes to disagreements with a producer, but this is one that has six un-credited directors: Josef von Sternberg, William Dieterle, William Cameron Menzies, Otto Brower, Sidney Franklin, and Selznick himself, since Vidor and the producer had disagreements that led to him walking out (having three credited cinematographers and four editors helps too). Vidor was a respected filmmaker before and after this film, debuting as a director at the age of 19 in 1913 with short films before moving to features in 1919 before finding a contract with Goldwyn Pictures (later MGM) and eventual success with movies such as The Big Parade (1925) and The Crowd (1928). He directed numerous films over the prevailing decades (slowing down after the 1950s), with his last work being a documentary with The Metaphor (1980), released two years before his death in 1982 at the age of 88. Although he did not win an Academy Award on five nominations in his career, he received an Academy Honorary Award in 1979 to recognize his achievements as an innovator. This was a film based off the novel of the same name by Niven Busch, who had pitched the film to RKO for his wife Teresa Wright to star in, but Wright's pregnancy nixed that idea. One pairing that was thought of prior to production was John Wayne and Hedy Lamarr before Jones (who had risen to quick stardom and had won an Academy Award at the age of 25) was brought in, with Selznick (whose affair with Jones later led to divorce and marriage) was credited for writing the film alongside Oliver H.P. Garrett and Ben Hecht. The film cost over $5 million to make (owing to expensive Technicolor film stock, location shooting and multiple re-shoots) and $2 million to advertise (a hefty sum for the time), with the film receiving a great deal of infamy for its excess in terms of its excess in romantic content, with one derisive joke calling the film "Lust in the Dust", with the film having its troubles with the Hays Code (with one sequence involving a dance by Jones being deleted).

This is definitely the kind of film that is best at being as ridiculous as it wants, a melodrama that fits all the molds of the modern age in how relentless it is in being a soap opera with all the trimmings (despite some dated material involving race) and competent acting to make this a silly treat that exceeds the senses that surely stands out for its decade, completed with a lengthy run-time of 145 minute (at least with the overture, anyway). It certainly isn't a great Western or romance by any means, but one will get some sort of enjoyment at an attempt at making an epic, which one should guess right away from its opening narration from Orson Welles, since I guess having the main character's fate being death really needs to be told to us from the get go, which is odd since the novel apparently ended with the main character living. Jones (who would later marry Selznick in 1949) shines in gritty detail, a woundedly obsessed role that exudes passion in the ways that matter in terms of romance, although it is actually the showdown sequence at the end that is her shining moment, complete with her own stunt work in the rocks with scrapes and cuts. Cotten is quiet yet fairly effective as the most level-headed one of the group, which goes okay despite not having as much screen-time in the second half. Peck is certainly electrifying in his rough role, full of energy like a beast of burden (having arrived from stage to film in 1944 to quick stardom), one that demands your attention as the bad man you love to hate (as is the case in plenty of interesting Westerns). Barrymore shines as an old battle axe, spending most of his time commanding coarse presence without needing to get out of his wheelchair (which he primarily used due to having an unhealed broken hip and arthritis since 1938). Gish (who earned her one and only Academy Award nomination for this film) shines with honesty in a role that demands sincerity. Huston proves worthy to view in his fiery brimstone approach to trying to rid the dangers of sin. If one is desiring of a different kind of Western, one may find something fitting with a weird film like this, where its romantic gestures having a strange lasting power to them. The film, controversy be darned, managed to break just even with audiences, who were probably tempted to see it one way or the other when it came to the furor it could inspire from the powers that be with decency (for the time, at least). One notable person who found this film influential was Martin Scorsese, which he saw when he was four years old. Sure, the film doesn't quite live up to Gone with the Wind, but the undeniable truth is that both films have a lasting appeal to them, with this being one to see in Selznick's power of obsession on display, a bold piece of escapism for better or worse.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Best Years of Our Lives.

Review #1368: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Cast:
Myrna Loy (Milly Stephenson), Fredric March (Platoon Sergeant Al Stephenson), Dana Andrews (Captain Fred Derry), Teresa Wright (Peggy Stephenson), Virginia Mayo (Marie Derry), Cathy O'Donnell (Wilma Cameron), Hoagy Carmichael (Uncle Butch Engle), Harold Russell (Petty Officer 2nd Class Homer Parrish), Gladys George (Hortense Derry), Roman Bohnen (Pat Derry), Ray Collins (Mr. Milton), Minna Gombell (Mrs. Parrish), and Walter Baldwin (Mr. Parrish) Directed by William Wyler (#509 - Roman Holiday, #1022 - Jezebel, and #1360 - Mrs. Miniver)

Review:
The most enduring films can be the ones that strike us in their poignancy. Emotional honesty can be the best policy, particularly when it comes to a film basked in real life, about soldiers coming home from war. One prominent person returning from the war was director William Wyler. The year that he had directed Mrs. Miniver (1942) to roaring success (although he subsequently called it an "incomplete" film that only scratched the surface about war), he had volunteered to serve in the US Army Air Forces; he shot footage that was turned into two war documentaries, and there were risks to filming footage over actual bombing missions, with Wyler losing a significant part of his hearing due to exposure to loud noise. It should prove no surprise that Wyler was the director to be for a film about veterans arriving home from war, with numerous touches done by the director to make an authentic piece of grand naturalness, such as having the actors buy their own clothing and having sets constructed at life-size level (as opposed to camera-friendly larger sets). To go alongside Wyler was a producer with the capable hands in Samuel Goldwyn. He had gone from bustling garments to salesman to being in a film company partnership in 1913 with Jesse L. Lasky and others to turn plays into feature-length films. They would later merge with Paramount (alongside Adolph Zukor's Famous Players Film Company), although Goldwyn would later resign in 1916 over disagreements, so he went on to partner with the Selwyn brothers to make the enterprise known as Goldwyn Pictures (with that leading to him changing his name to Goldwyn after being known as Goldfish that he had changed from Gelbfisz). It ran for eight years before being acquired by Marcus Loew to merge with Metro and Mayer to form Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, although Goldwyn moved on to his own production company, and the company produced films for 36 years that would distributed through various studios such as United Artists and RKO. This was written by Robert E. Sherwood (four-time Pulitzer Prize winner and head of the Office of War Information from 1943 until the end of the war) as an adaptation of the novella Glory for Me (1945) by MacKinlay Kantor, which had been inspired by an article in Time Magazine.

One finds themselves wrapped right in with a film like this from the very first minutes, and it should prove no surprise that this film manages to accomplish this through capable storytelling, having a consistent and engaging focus for each of its veteran plots that weaves magnificently for 172 minutes, where one is absorbed in where the path may go next. March commands the film with great presence, a weary and dogged man that we can go along at any point, which matches Loy and her capable patience that makes for great established chemistry. Andrews pulls off a tremendous performance as well an evolving performance built on humility, with him and March both expressing trauma in their own respective ways (which is especially striking now as it was then). Wright proves fairly charming in a film wrapped in honest realism, where naivety and sentiment are behind for most if the film, while Mayo pulls off a conniving turn in her moments on screen, with the best highlight probably being the scene between the two when they are on a double date and talking to themselves privately. an Army instructor who had lost his hands due to a defective fuse when handling TNT) had been noticed by Wyler due to an Army film named Diary of a Sergeant, which was about rehabilitating veterans. He appeared in three total films, with Wyler having told him to finish his interrupted studies at Boston University. He pulls off his story with tremendous courage in a natural manner, where one is focused on him and his trouble like we would with others with more acting experience while not thinking about his hooks. Rounding out the cast is capable edge filling from singer-turned occasional actor Carmichael and an understanding O'Donnell performance. There is plenty that one can see when it comes to following natural pursuits in this film, one that eventually finds hope in the murkiness that could accompany such a hard readjusting that war can be. It isn't overly-sentimental or cynical to the point of irritation, finding an honest middle ground that lets these characters breathe for themselves. From the deep focus shots from Gregg Toland to highlights like the aircraft boneyard sequence, one will have an interesting time to spend with people that still seem relevant now.

One may not be surprised to know that this was a hit for its year with audiences and critics. It won seven Academy Awards, with Wyler, Sherwood, March, and Russell winning in respective categories of directing, screenplay, and acting while also winning for editing and original score. The night belonged to Goldwyn and Russell, with the former being awarded both an Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award along with Best Picture (his one win in eight nominations as producer for Best Picture) for this film while the latter became the first and only actor to receive two Academy Awards for the same performance, having been awarded an Honorary Academy Award (since the Academy apparently believed his Oscar hopes were slim). In any case, it is easy to see why this endures as one of the best films of its era, where one will find themselves satisfied with going through the time to see something like this and not finding their patience tested at any real point.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

A Matter of Life and Death.

Review #1367: A Matter of Life and Death.

Cast:
David Niven (Peter Carter), Kim Hunter (June), Roger Livesey (Dr. Frank Reeves), Raymond Massey (Abraham Farlan), Marius Goring (Conductor 71), Kathleen Byron (Angel), Joan Maude (Chief Recorder), Robert Coote (Bob Trubshawe), Robert Atkins (the Vicar), Abraham Sofaer (the Judge), Richard Attenborough (English Pilot), and Bonar Colleano (American Pilot) Written, Produced, and Directed by Michael Powell (#400 - The Thief of Bagdad) and Emeric Pressburger.

Review:
Sometimes it takes two to make a film go right. Whether it is a collaboration between a producer and a director or a star and director, the best films are the ones that make every aspect work cohesively. Powell and Pressburger are certainly one of the most notable film partnerships in history, and for good reason. The British-born Powell had come from studio hand to title-writer to director in six years, with his debut being Two Crowded Hours (1931) that were followed by quote quickies before a notable success with The Edge of the World (1937). After a few years of directing films, he was hired by Alexander Korda on a contract, and he was soon brought in to do The Spy in Black (1939), where he first met Pressburger, who wrote the screenplay. Pressburger (born in Austria-Hungary) had gone from journalism to screenwriting, starting in Germany and France before leaving for England in 1935 after the Nazis came to power. Pressburger found his footing with fellow Hungarian filmmakers such as Korda and his studio London Films. Powell and Pressburger would ultimately do 24 films together from 1939 to 1972, with most of the films being released under their production company of The Archers, which lasted from 1943 to 1957, with notable films being 49th Parallel (1941, earning Pressburger an Academy Award for Best Story), Black Narcissus (1947), and The Red Shoes (1948).

Undeniably, this is a highlight for 1946, one that prevails in charm through a wonderfully assembled cast that has a sharp script and plenty of visual imagination to go along with it. The most notable effects of the film is the usage of black-and-white for scenes in the Other World, accomplished through not adding color to the print that were filmed in three-strip Technicolor. Of course the other notable effect of the film (released in America as Stairway to Heaven) that dazzles the imagination is a huge escalator, which had 106 stops that were 20 feet wide each and had hanging miniatures to help achieve the final effect. One will find themselves in awe most of the time when it comes to what the film aspires to do with its wit, one that is readily active in stoking emotion and curiosity in both worlds to where you never really want to see it ends. At the command in the film is Niven, wrapped with charisma as the finest everyman one could ever hope for, particularly when it comes to chemistry with Hunter, who is equally as enjoyable when it comes to exuding grace. Livesey provides charm as well, a capable hand of reason that stands at his tallest when it comes to the trial sequence, where he holds his own with the dignified Massey. Goring provides levity in his moments on screen, with the easiest one to highlight being when he appears to Niven after his friends' tennis match is frozen (which in it of itself is quite clever). There exists numerous highlights one can talk about when it comes to the film (in distinct colors, no less), from the capable choreography by Jack Cardiff to the court sequence with its massive set (composed of a 350ft x 40ft high blackcloth) that strikes at the heart with sentiment and a poignant ending that makes it one of the worthiest 104 minutes one could spend with imagination that can amaze any crowd, young or old. It is a film that strikes tenderly in a way that endures after over seven decades because of how much it dazzles with heart that works as well with postwar audiences as it does today, where one could really believe that love can be the strongest thing in our world. It's an easy film to recommend, a gem for Powell and Pressburger that stands with triumph now more than ever.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

The Stranger (1946).

Review #1366: The Stranger.

Cast: 
Edward G. Robinson (Mr. Wilson), Loretta Young (Mary Longstreet Rankin), Orson Welles (Franz Kindler / Professor Charles Rankin), Philip Merivale (Judge Adam Longstreet), Richard Long (Noah Longstreet), Konstantin Shayne (Konrad Meinike), Byron Keith (Dr. Jeffrey Lawrence), Billy House (Mr. Potter), and Martha Wentworth (Sara) Directed by Orson Welles (#200 - Citizen Kane)

Review:
Who better to deliver a film noir with a sense of nightmarish style and purpose than Orson Welles?
Welles had come from stage productions (making his debut at 16) and a notable radio performance with The War of the Worlds (1938) to make his way onto film through RKO in 1939 with a chance to make two of his own films with complete creative control in terms of writing, directing, and performing. He proceeded to have one of the greatest debuts on film with Citizen Kane (1941), which he directed, performed, and co-wrote with Herman J. Mankiewicz, and it was his work on the script that led to his only Academy Award win. His second effort was The Magnificent Ambersons the following year, but his contract was renegotiated to revoke having final cut privilege, with a change in the RKO board eventually leading to the film being dramatically re-cut to fit what they believed would be a more commercial film. Neither were particularly big successes, but they both received praise for the time with critics and Citizen Kane is now generally considered one of the greatest films of all time. He also did work on Journey Into Fear (1943), doing parts of the script along with directing and producing that were left un-credited. He spent the war years primarily in radio (after a failed attempt of making a Latin American anthology film) before being brought into making this film after intended director John Huston left to join the military. He didn't have complete control, but he did try to give the film his own kind of tone, helping to give re-writes (as Huston did, with both un-credited) to Anthony Veiller and Decla Dunning's script alongside doing long takes to hinder edits. The film was one of the first to show documentary footage from the concentration camps, as Welles had seen this footage prior to the war ending in 1945.

It shouldn't be surprising in any case that Welles managed to make such an entertaining film, one with plenty of thrills to deliver with timely fashion that prevails just as much now as it did in the postwar era. One has likely seen a film or two before involving a murderous stranger trying to hide their true presence amongst the others of a small town (with the most immediate film coming to mind being Shadow of a Doubt, released three years earlier), but Welles infuses enough energy in stoking a chilling atmosphere, whether when directing or when on the screen. He succeeds with conviction, filled with charisma in a capably chilling performance. Young plays it just as carefully, where one can believe in the chemistry between her and Welles, a presence caught in the middle of a cat-and-mouse game of truth. Robinson reels in quite well as our focus, filled with desperation in pursuit that comes to a head with the dinner sequence, where they both are carefully studying the other. The rest of the cast are fine, filling in the details where needed, most notably with House, who gives off a few amusing but needed moments. The former vaudevillian was liked enough by Welles that he had expanded his role as production went on (much to Robinson's chagrin). The film moves on its own careful pace, moving along at 95 minutes with a clear vision towards making a web of deceit and descent come true through long takes and good cinematography by Russell Metty, and the climax pulls itself off swiftly. The film came slightly underbudget and early on schedule, although International Pictures did not make any further pictures with Welles, supposedly because they believed the film would be a flop, which of course was proven wrong (becoming Welles' first audience hit). Over the prevailing decades, Welles would go on to make numerous films in Europe and America, ones that received varied noticed from audiences and critics along with their own distinct production cycles,  with his last film coming years after his death with The Other Side of the Wind (2018), which spent years in production and decades in legal trouble. In any case, one should be naturally inclined to include this among others when it comes to film noirs to view as a good example of craftsmanship and cast to go with a capable story, and the fact that it is in the public domain makes it especially worthy.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Scarlet Street.

Review #1365: Scarlet Street.

Cast:
Edward G. Robinson (Christopher Cross), Joan Bennett (Katherine March), Dan Duryea (Johnny Prince), Margaret Lindsay (Millie Ray), Rosalind Ivan (Adele Cross), Jess Barker (David Janeway), Charles Kemper (Patch-eye Higgins), Anita Sharp-Bolster (Mrs. Michaels), Samuel S. Hinds (Charles Pringle), and Vladimir Sokoloff (Pop LeJon) Directed by Fritz Lang (#333 - M and #500 - Metropolis)

Review: 
"Each picture has some sort of rhythm which only the director can give it. He has to be like the captain of a ship."

One can't forget about Fritz Lang when it comes to his diverse career of films, both in Germany and abroad. Born and raised in Vienna, Lang had a lengthy career, starting as a writer for film in 1916 before debuting as a director with Halbblut (1919). He met writer Thea von Harbou the following year, and they later married in 1922. They worked together in film for over a decade, which include films such as Dr. Mabuse the Gambler (1922), Metropolis (1927), M (1931, his first talking picture), and The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933). However, the two divorced due to an affair by Lang that same year. He would soon leave Germany owing to the rise of the Nazis, going to France (where he made one film in Liliom) before going to America. He made his American debut with Fury (1936), with his last in the country being Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956) before he returned to Germany (after thinking about retiring due to tough conditions to make further Hollywood films and growing age), where he made three films between 1959 and 1960, with his last being The Thousand Eyes of Dr. Mabuse before his death in 1976 at the age of 85. He was noted for his Expressionism (more so for his German films) alongside his talent in doing numerous genres, particularly with film noir.

The film was adapted (written by Dudley Nichols) from the French novel La Chienne by Georges de La Fouchardiere, which had already been played on the stage and in film in 1931 under its title by Jean Renoir (who notably disliked this film). This was the second time that Lang utilized this trio of actors, as they had appeared together in The Woman in the Window a year earlier. Both films had Robinson play a lonely middle-aged man and Bennett and Duryea play a criminal duo, and they even had the same choreographer in Milton R. Krasner. Robinson for his part did not like his experiences with either film, finding this one to be monotonous to do, although Lang found it to be one of his favorites to do. To each his own, one suppose - both of course do tremendous jobs in making a capable noir tick well. It goes to show how one can make something that plays numerous hands of deception to the benefit of its audience through 109 minutes, a clever experience with some psychological depth to it. It shouldn't prove too surprising that local authorities in three cities for censor boards objected to the content of the film, calling it many things besides "obscene". After all, it isn't exactly a noir with a happy ending, nor is it one that requires so. Just the idea of a character getting away with a murder was in some minds enough to object to, beyond portraying some sort of sordid life or illicitness with love. In other words, one needs a bit of risk sometimes to make things work better than a conventional film would do, with the best noirs utilizing imagination to give the viewer something to look into without needing things spelled out for them. Robinson does well with making an ordinary presence come into focus that we can follow along with to a point as a meek man that doesn't seem cartoonish or underplayed. Bennett and Duryea make for a conniving duo, ones with some luring power alongside a rough nature with chemistry. One can follow the film along without too much trouble, wrapped with a few twists that keep the viewer wanting more without displeasing them with where it needs to get to with its daring ending, where one can certainly find a prison for themselves without needing a conviction to do so. Lang certainly made plenty of memorable films, and this is one that is good to highlight, particularly since it is readily available through the public domain for anyone to view for themselves, a worthwhile little gem for the decade.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Bluebeard (1944).

Review #1364: Bluebeard.

Cast: 

John Carradine (Gaston Morrell), Jean Parker (Lucille Lutien), Nils Asther (Inspector Jacques Lefevre), Ludwig Stössel (Jean Lamarte), George Pembroke (Inspector Renard), Teala Loring (Francine Lutien), Sonia Sorel (Renee Claremont), Henry Kolker (Deschamps Lutien), Emmett Lynn (Le Soldat), and Iris Adrian (Mimi Roberts) Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer (#797 - People on Sunday, #803 - Detour, and #943 - The Man from Planet X)

Review: 
Surprise, surprise, Onward will be delayed, since I could not view it in time before movie theaters began their temporary closure in light of the coronavirus. In any case, time to move on to continuing the tribute for the month.

Who better to deliver low budget noirs than Edgar G. Ulmer and Producers Releasing Corporation? The two almost seem made for each other. The film was inspired by famous French folktale Barbe bleue (written by Charles Perrault), first published in 1697 that told of a wealthy man who had a habit of murdering his wives. The story has been adapted to numerous media over the years, from a 1901 film by George Melies (among at least six other adaptations) to opera to ballet. Ulmer had first come to Hollywood in 1926, having worked as a stage actor and set designer in Austria (living in Vienna after being born in Olomouc, Austria-Hungary, now considered part of the Czech Republic). He would go on to a distinguished career with films in four different decades. His first directorial efforts were People on Sunday (1930), a production written by Billy Wilder that Ulmer co-directed with Robert Siodmak before moving on Damaged Lives (1933), an American/Canadian exploitation film about diseases. His one main studio film in The Black Cat (1934) was a huge box office hit. However, he was relegated to doing films for Poverty Row studios because he had an affair with Shirley Kassler, who was married to a relative of a studio head before divorcing him for Ulmer. She would later serve as script supervisor on most of the films that followed from Ulmer, spent primarily with ethnic dramas and low budget studios like PRC, which had been founded in 1939 to do low-budget fare that could be used for double bills while never spending more than $100,000 for productions, which worked for 179 films in seven years total before being acquired by Eagle-Lion Films (which later disbanded in 1950).

With a shooting schedule of six days, it is a triumph of Ulmer that this film noir (written by Arnold Lipp, Werner H. Furst and Pierre Gendron) turned out so well for what it does, a decent little gem. One must be impressed by how he made a spellbinding experience with a standout performance from Carradine, a prolific presence given a chance to deliver chills. He has quite an alluring power to him, trapped with obsession that makes it worthwhile to spend time with. Parker keeps up with him just fine, an innocent yet manageable counterpart. Asther does fine with making some authority seem to mean something without being completely washed away by Carradine and Stossel makes for a sniveling secondary aspect of the film count. One has an inkling of where the film is going to go (crime doesn't pay, or at least that's the lesson one is meant to get from films of the era), but it doesn't mean the methods are going to be cut and dry, where Ulmer makes something out of what would've likely been just another B-movie. It is an interesting experience at 72 minutes, a movie that is stagy but watchable when it needs to be that overcomes cash-strapped foundations with a can-do cast headlined by Carradine in generating interest in something that makes for a solid public domain pick. It's the journey that counts, and this one is helped by Ulmer in getting its foot in the door.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Outlaw.

Review #1363: The Outlaw.

Cast: 
Jack Buetel (Billy the Kid), Jane Russell (Rio McDonald), Thomas Mitchell (Pat Garrett), Walter Huston (Doc Holliday), Mimi Aguglia (Guadalupe), and Joe Sawyer (Charley) Directed by Howard Hughes (#1332 - Hell's Angels)

Review: 
We live in an age of relentless promotion, don't we? Whether it is self promotion or social influencing, it can be a bit easy to become cynical about how a film can permeate our attention. Earlier decades aren't free of such statements, particularly when it comes to Howard Hughes, noted business magnate, investor, and engineer who also dabbled in films (he of course was known for purchasing RKO Pictures later in the decade). On the one hand, Hughes had plenty of highlights in thirty years of productions, with Hell's Angels (1930), The Front Page (1931), and Scarface (1932). On the other hand, his career also had films like His Kind of Woman (1951, which had two directors), The Conquerer (1956, known for inferior quality and being filmed 137 miles from nuclear testing), and Jet Pilot (1957, which Hughes tinkered with for four years). It was him who had brought Buetel and Russell for their debut performances, but their contracts to Hughes affected their careers, with the former not appearing in another film until 1951 and the latter was off the screen until 1946. Of course the film itself had plenty of trouble on and off filming. Hughes (who took over for Howard Hawks after he had griped about interference) had designed a special underwire bra for Russell to wear to emphasize her bosom. Interestingly enough, Russell didn't actually wear the bra for the film, discarding it secretly. You might notice the copyright of 1941 for the film, since production had finished in February. Hughes had plenty of trouble in releasing the film because of the Hollywood Production Code Administration. Simply put, they objected to Hughes' emphasis of Russell's features, wanting cuts made. The film was initially released for one week in February 1943 before objections were raised that led to shelving until 1946.

Of course with all that in mind, how's the actual film? It doesn't take a cynical eye to note that despite all of its daring attempts to stoke curiosity, it still comes in a film that is a tremendous bore, a deliberate insult to history that can't even stoke interest in the senses besides occasional glances to see how much is left in the tank (116 minutes, no less). While the film attempts to have back up with established stars in Mitchell and Huston (past and future winners of an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor), one does not really seem to feel too particularly interested in what is actually going on, beyond its attempts at humor and stoking excitement of passion. Sure, Russell does seem like she could be a star of some sort with raw presence, but Hughes does not seem quite the one to do so (this of course could have been said for Jean Harlow when she made her appearance in Hughes' other directorial effort). These are flat lines, ones that only barely register in entertainment no matter who says them. Buetel looks especially lost, looking like he wants to be in some other Western than this. Everybody looks like they are acting in completely different films, and Mitchell and Huston seem no different. In a better film, one could forgive some of the flailing attempts of re-telling legends of the Old West. But with this one, it seems almost intentional to irritate the fact-checkers. Did Doc Holliday ever meet Billy the Kid? Did he get killed in an accident with Pat Garrett? Did Billy the Kid escape death? Who cares?! You might as well have made a fictional composite while you are at it, or find another way to use your time, like social isolation or snarky Internet posting. On the whole, The Outlaw is a film more known for its attempts at promotion that were objectionable for the time rather than the true finished product, and it definitely shows in an aged ridiculous spectacle that flails as a Western in the worst ways.

Next Review - Onward, unless something stops it.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Now, Voyager.

Review #1362: Now, Voyager.

Cast: 
Bette Davis (Charlotte Vale), Paul Henreid (Jeremiah "Jerry" Duvaux Durrance), Claude Rains (Dr. Jaquith), Gladys Cooper (Mrs. Windle Vale), Bonita Granville (June Vale), John Loder (Elliot Livingston), Ilka Chase (Lisa Vale), Lee Patrick (Deb McIntyre), Franklin Pangborn (Mr. Thompson), and Janis Wilson (Tina Durrance) Directed by Irving Rapper.

Review: 
"This has always been a motto of mine: Attempt the impossible in order to improve your work."

I think we all can say we have had our moments involving an ugly duckling. The feeling of inferiority or the feeling of isolation within having a lack of self confidence or missing people to help in that regard. Simply put, sometimes we just need help. The screenplay was done by Casey Robinson as an adaptation of the 1941 novel of the same name by Olive Higgins Prouty, the third in a five-book series of the Vale family. She had spent time in a sanitarium herself due to a mental breakdown sixteen years prior due to the death of one of her daughters. The depiction of psychotherapy in the book and film were thought of as pioneering for the time, and she was also noted for her philanthropic work. At the helm for stars is quite an interesting pair in Davis, Henreid, and Rains. Davis had lobbied hard for the role, which had been thought of for actresses ranging from Irene Dunne to Ginger Rogers, while directors considered had gone from Edmund Goulding to Michael Curtiz. Who better to helm the production than Hal B. Wallis, who was behind several hits for Warner Bros since 1930 with films such as The Letter (1940, featuring Davis) and Casablanca (1942, featuring Henreid and Rains). Rapper had started his career in Hollywood as a dialogue coach and assistant director in 1936 for Warner Brothers, and he made his debut in 1941 with Shining Victory, which had Davis in a cameo appearance. He directed her in four other films while having a moderate career in directing, with his last being Born Again in 1978.

Who better to sink into a tortured main role in terms of showing struggle and growth than Davis? She was always known for her intensity as a perfectionist, reading the novel and being involved in the wardrobe design for her character. She gives a dignity to this role that dominates the film in sincerity, a transformation that she makes thoroughly believable with chemistry to boot with Henreid, best signified by the sequence where they share a cigarette together after he lights two of them in his mouth (a scene that had been done in a few productions before but made notable here) and puts one in her mouth. Henreid proves to be a fair match for Davis, one with inviting charisma. Rains (described by Davis as her favorite co-star) pulls through with professionalism in his moments on screen (with are a bit scattered after the initial scenes), never seeming unbelievable at any moment. Cooper pulls in venom with ease for her clashes with Davis, which seem to be like a soap opera just as much as the rest of the film is. On the whole, the movie pulls through in tugging at the heartstrings (aided through Max Steiner's dynamic music, which naturally won an Oscar) for 117 minutes that succeeds most of the time in capable drama without becoming a complete soggy sponge of drama. It's a film with its own spirit of independence that one can still find useful today, where one only needs to look to the stars to find something to behold for themselves.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

For Me and My Gal.

Review #1361: For Me and My Gal.

Cast: 
Judy Garland (Jo Hayden), Gene Kelly (Harry Palmer), George Murphy (Jimmy K. Metcalf), Martha Eggerth (Eve Minard), Ben Blue (Sid Simms), Stephen McNally (Mr. Waring), Robert Homans (New York Palace Doorman), and Lucille Norman (Lily Duncan) Directed by Busby Berkeley.

Review: 
"I don't believe in conformity to any school of dancing. I create what the drama and the music demand. While I am a hundred percent for ballet technique, I use only what I can adapt to my own use. I never let technique get in the way of mood or continuity."

A star can come from anywhere, from vaudeville, stage, or elsewhere. Gene Kelly had gone from a career ambition in teaching dance and full-time entertainer to choreographer and dancer in musical revues and Broadway in 1938, having been discovered by noted dancer and choreographer Robert Alton. By 1940, he had received his first breakthrough and lead role with stage work such as The Time of Your Life and Pal Joey. He was eventually signed by David O. Selznick for a chance to do film in Hollywood. It was the urging of numerous people, most notably Judy Garland, that led to Metro Goldwyn Mayer bringing Kelly in to star with Garland in this film, with this serving as her first adult role. The film was written by Richard Sherman, Fred F. Finklehoffe, and Sid Silvers with a story by Howard Emmett Rogers, which was inspired by the real life pursuits of Harry Palmer, a vaudeville actor of the 1910s, who indeed formed an act with Jo Hayden in 1916 and performed for a few years. The details of Palmer and his WWI service differ a bit from the film, where it was his friend who had been in medical school before serving and later dying in the War, not Hayden's brother, along with the fact that he had joined the Red Cross ambulance corps and not the YMCA. The ending to the film is different from actual events, but that was also a product of editing. The film was edited to play up sympathy for Kelly's character because test audiences had felt Murphy deserved to get the girl. As such, scenes were re-done to focus more on Kelly (including a rescue of an ambulance convoy). You may remember Berkeley from his choreography in 42nd Street (1933). He had co-directed (alongside George Amy) She Had to Say Yes that same year, with a gradual shift from choreography to directing occurring in the decade, and Gold Diggers of 1935 was his first solo directorial effort. He directed numerous films (with a few musical number sprinkled between it) until 1949 with Take Me Out to the Ball Game (after being fired from Annie Get Your Gun the following year), with the next eight films in the remaining 12 years of his career being spent in choreography.

With that in mind, one will be fairly interested in this ode to vaudeville alongside a drive to involvement in war that makes for a relatively decent 104 minute experience. Garland gets a chance to shine with songs and in charm, inspiring as ever for her prime. Kelly glides onto the screen with instant presence and no trouble at all, inspiring plenty of enthusiasm and curiosity whenever singing or doing some dancing along with having some chemistry with Garland that makes things zip through without too much tedium. Whether one knows about the cribbing of real-life events or not, the film certainly does seem a bit easy to figure for its eventual end-game, although I really do doubt that the film needed to be edited anyway because simply put, this is Gene Kelly we are talking about. I barely even remember Murphy to begin with, since he comes and goes by the time the film is halfway through. Maybe he had an earlier presence in the original, but here he just seems okay, where one might forget him in the shuffle. Eggerth (known more for her operetta work) does make a presence in her one number to shine, but she really is only there for the first half and that's it. The film is a decent one, with some of the conviction needed to make something that lasts. It has the musical and dance edge with two strong presences in Garland and Kelly to make things work out better than with lesser leads. It isn't really anything great of its era, but the fact that it was the first success for Kelly and also one for Garland makes it memorable enough to endure nonetheless.

One small update. If one is wondering about the effects of coronavirus among writing, I will state that there are only two ways I will stop posting: severe illness or death. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Mrs. Miniver.

Review #1360: Mrs. Miniver.

Cast: 
Greer Garson (Kay Miniver), Walter Pidgeon (Clem Miniver), Teresa Wright (Carol Beldon), Dame May Whitty (Lady Beldon), Reginald Owen (Foley), Henry Travers (Mr. Ballard), Richard Ney (Vin Miniver), Henry Wilcoxon (The Vicar), Christopher Severn (Toby Miniver), Brenda Forbes (Gladys), and Clare Sandars (Judy Miniver) Directed by William Wyler (#509 - Roman Holiday and #1022 - Jezebel)

Review: 
War-time films could come in many genres, and 1942 is a prominent one to spotlight. After all, this film dominated the Academy Awards for its year, winning for Best Picture, Director, Actress, Supporting Actress, Screenplay, and Cinematography. The film is based on a series of newspapers columns for The Times by Jan Struther, which had started in 1937 (with a collection of those columns being published into a book in 1939) on an ordinary sort of woman with ordinary sort of life, with most of the essays being done before World War II was declared, and four writers were credited for adapting it to the screen: Arthur Wimperis, George Froeschel, James Hilton, and Claudine West. At the hand is a director with a prime like no other in William Wyler, who came from working at Universal Studios as a stage cleaner and mover to director of Western quickies in two years. In the next decade, he would hone his craft in a variety of genres from drama to comedy that would lead to plenty of notice with films such as Dodsworth (1936) and Wuthering Heights (1939). A noted perfectionist, he would generally insist on multiple re-takes, which proved to be worth it for several actors, directing 36 actors to Academy Award nominations and 14 to wins, both records. He directed films in six decades until his last with The Liberation of L.B. Jones (1970). Garson and Pidgeon make for a well-rounded bunch of leads (with this being the 2nd of eight collaborations, including a sequel with The Miniver Story eight years later), both having risen from stage to screen (the former in the 30s, the latter in the late 20s) to carry a movie that certainly rouses plenty of spirit and inspiration to make for a solid romance war drama, one wrapped in sentiment under propaganda that makes its mark most of the time.

It certainly rose plenty of spirits, with Winston Churchill once stating that it had done more for the war effort than a flotilla of destroyers, and Franklin D. Roosevelt had ordered the final speech (involving how this is a "war of the people", not just soldiers) broadcast over radio. That speech was written by Wilcoxin (the one who says the striking words) and Wyler the night before filming it. Regardless of its war elements, there is a tender touch to the film that manages to resonate in drama after nearly eight decades that can't be lost to time. It works with a 133 minute pace in holding its family aspects and the looming war together with patience and skill. Garson commands the screen with grace, a courage in the manner of the stiff upper-lip that resonates for her time on screen. Pidgeon does just as much in conveying charm with capable chemistry in the ways you would expect with Garson alongside other scenes when dealing with the war efforts. Wright makes her presence clear any time she is on screen, a vivid and ideal one in a weary-but-able world. A noted actress of the screen (along with her charity work during the first World War) before making her screen debut at 72 in 1935, Whitty strikes attention with no trouble at all, marked with discipline in her nerves in her moments on screen. The other members of the cast do just fine in rounding out the elements necessary to make for capable drama in perseverance. It is the kind of stuff that can drive emotions out for passion, for sacrifice and support that one can still identify with in some way in our trying times today, whether one resides in Europe or elsewhere. For the most part, the film knows where to go in making capable entertainment, and it rightfully endures as a fair gem for both its director and Metro Goldwyn Mayer.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The Invisible Man (2020).

Review #1359: The Invisible Man.

Cast: 
Elisabeth Moss (Cecilia "Cee" Kass), Oliver Jackson-Cohen (Adrian Griffin), Aldis Hodge (James Lanier), Storm Reid (Sydney Lanier), Harriet Dyer (Emily Kass), Michael Dorman (Tom Griffin), Benedict Hardie (Marc), and Amali Golden (Annie) Directed and Written by Leigh Whannell (#1093 - Upgrade)

Review: 
I don't know how to go with this one. On the one hand, it is admirable to see Universal Pictures try something different from their original intent in reviving The Invisible Man for a new audience, where the film (with thoughts of Johnny Depp in the main role) was set to be part of their star-crossed attempt at a cinematic monster universe, fittingly dubbed "Dark Universe", which essentially nosedived into oblivion with the release of The Mummy (2017), a film that coincidentally I forget to even think of ignoring. Instead, the focus is now to do individual story-telling (i.e. literally just doing a horror film a fresh take like the first time), with Blumhouse Productions being the prominent production company behind this film (with Universal as distributor). Like the 1933 film, it is a loose (insert adaptation joke here) adaptation of the H. G. Wells novel of the same name, set in contemporary times just as before. This of course isn't the first film inspired by the novel in this century, with Hollow Man (2000) existing as a sci-fi horror thriller with Kevin Bacon in the main role. This is a movie that re-directs the focus from its main horror figure, which I suppose does help in trying to deliver a fresh perspective on something that has inspired at least ten theatrical films (some involving horror and other mainly involving sci-fi). There certainly is a decent selection of casting, where no one really seems to stick out in error, mainly since Moss dominates the attention for its benefit. The film also does work itself out well for its effects with the titular character when it feels like doing so, since the idea of a monster you can't see is still a scary concept if done right.

On the other hand, the film is a mild disappointment in the long run. It is occasionally scary, but it is a ride that seems a bit too long at a 124 minute pace, particularly with an ending that seems too neatly-packaged up to really have that last punch. I suppose my horror tastes might differ a bit from the buzz that encompassed this film upon release, since it is probably the first horror film of the year that didn't seem doomed to fail. Maybe people really do find this incredibly relevant to the modern age with its mix of invisibility and gaslighting. While I do having sticking points with the occasional horror films (whether liked or disliked), it can be waved away if the overall experience seems right to do so (i.e. not simply saying "it's just a movie" over and over). Without seeming like a complete spoil-sport, the key sticking point is in a scene that actually is fairly tense. It's a scene in a house, where the main character is (conveniently) alone and is fearful of what the invisible stalker could do next to her. She goes to the attic after calling and hearing her ex's phone up there. After finding it...she just leaves it there. Even just having him just take the phone back would have sufficed as an easy out. Look, I don't go to movies to pick at things like supposed "plot-holes", but thinking things all the way through does help in the long run for films, especially horror. In comparison, the original moved at a rapid pace with Claude Rains doing a well-done job at conveying a creepy (and sometimes amusing) presence into interesting horror entertainment, and that film was nearly an hour shorter than this one. In that regard, Jackson-Cohen does fine taking the reins in a role that requires occasional dialogue to make for some decent tension. Moss, as I mentioned before, is our main focus for the movie. She does a capable job, a presence that is easy to follow along with from her perspective, resilience in panic. Hodge, Reid, and Dyer round out the main core quite completely in filling the straight-edge counterpart to the horror trappings without being lost in the background. Dorman makes for a slimy minor presence, desperately needing more time to be on-screen to really stand out. In any case, the film does tend to look nice, pointing its camera to make you look to see if you can detect another presence besides what you see initially. Sometimes the film has a sense of humor, which delivers a chuckle that at least isn't meant to distract. As a whole, this is an okay movie. It isn't as put together as Whannell's previous effort with Upgrade, but it does ultimately provide adequate enough scares to likely win over a shaky yet mostly there foundation. Would I be interested in whatever Blumhouse could do next with a classic monster? Perhaps, if the story seems right enough to give horror thrills.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

To Be or Not to Be (1942).

Review #1358: To Be or Not to Be.

Cast: 
Carole Lombard (Maria Tura), Jack Benny (Joseph Tura), Robert Stack (Lt. Stanislav Sobinski), Felix Bressart (Greenberg), Lionel Atwill (Rawich), Stanley Ridges (Professor Alexander Siletsky), Sig Ruman (Col. Ehrhardt), Tom Dugan (Bronski), and Charles Halton (Dobosh) Directed and Produced by Ernst Lubitsch (#1026 - The Shop Around the Corner)

Review: 
Satire can be a curious thing. If you do it right, one will appreciate the humor and irony for years on end, regardless of how much time has passed (such as Gulliver's Travels). One would expect a war satire to come from brilliant directors (such as Charlie Chaplin with The Great Dictator the previous year), so it only makes sense for Ernst Lubitsch to make one as well. The German-born director had started as an actor in 1913. Although he appeared in roughly 30 films over the next seven years, he gradually shifted his attention to directing, making his debut with Shoe Palace Pinkus (1916). He made numerous movies in his native Germany with actors such as Pola Negri before leaving to Hollywood for good in 1922. He made films in numerous genres, ranging from comedy to bio-dramas to musicals, and he received an Honorary Academy Award in 1946, one year before his death from a heart attack. The story was done by Melchior Lengyel (who had co-written Ninotchka) while the screenplay was done by Edwin Justus Mayer (with un-credited work done by Lubitsch). Naturally, one would expect a star or two to headline the film, and one can't go wrong with Lombard and Benny. Lombard had started her career in 1921 (with a main debut in Marriage in Transit in 1925),  having small roles in films for Fox Film and Mack Sennett's short films before reaching her first high point with Twentieth Century (1934). It was the first of numerous screwball comedies that she became known for over the next few years. Tragically, this was to be her last film. She was killed in a plane crash after a war bond rally on January 16, 1942 (roughly a month before the film's release). Benny came into this film because Lubitsch wrote the film directly for him. He had originally done vaudeville for his violin playing before eventually deciding to do comedy with his act. In 1929, he had signed a contract with Metro Goldwyn Mayer and had his debut with The Hollywood Revue of 1929. While he made numerous appearances in film over the next few years, he became more well-known for his radio program, which ran from 1932 to 1955. 

The film is a wonderful one, dark and witty with its pursuit of making ridicule of a serious situation like the Nazis, in a time where World War II was in its third year and America had just entered the fight. There was a mixed reception among audiences and critics of the time, where even Benny's father initially was disgusted with the sight of his son in a Nazi uniform before being convinced otherwise (where he promptly saw it again and again). It is a keen movie with plenty of sharp observations and facial situations that rewards the viewer time and time again. The movie has a tremendous sense of timing, balancing comedy and drama with such deftness, which is helped with a prime screwball pairing through Lombard and Benny, who are both inspiring to watch either together or with others. The film doesn't repeat itself with tiring gags, knowing when to do something without needing to be prodded into it, where one could make a comedy-less version of the same basic story without finding trouble. Stack (who was reportedly terrified going into this role) does just fine with keeping up with Lombard and Benny with careful demeanor. The other actors pull off an inspired front in retaining interest, with Ruman doing the most well with bombast. It certainly is a timeless one to last among other comedies, and it even inspired a remake in 1983. The film moves with a dashing pace of 99 minutes, never seeming to wear itself out at any time with making a capable dark comedy that also serves as a romance and thriller with plenty to make light of with daring ambition and an especially capable director and stars at hand to make things shine in the dark. One can't go wrong with a Lubitsch picture, and this is no exception.

Next Review: The Invisible Man (2020).

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.