Sabata.

Review #1432: Sabata.

Cast: 
Lee Van Cleef (Sabata), William Berger (Banjo), Ignazio Spalla (Carrincha), Aldo Canti (Indio), Franco Ressel (Stengel), Antonio Gradoli (Ferguson), Linda Veras (Jane), Robert Hundar (Oswald, Stengel Henchman), Gianni Rizzo (Judge O'Hara), Spartaco Conversi (Slim, Stengel Henchman), and Carlo Tamberlani (Nichols) Directed by Gianfranco Parolini.

Review: 
"Bad guys have always been my bag . . . I look mean without even trying. Audiences just naturally hate me on screen. I could play a role in a tuxedo and people would think I was rotten. You can do much more with a villain part. Movies are full of leading men, most of whom aren't working. It's much harder to find a good villain."

Oh sure, why not another Western to the pile, one might think when it comes to a film called Sabata [Ehi amico ... c'è Sabata. Hai chiuso!]. One can tie a great deal of interesting things to come out of 1969, whether that meant an X-rated Best Picture winner or a unlikely motorcycle film to become a smash hit with the counterculture, or films willing to push the creative envelope in tone in Z and Medium Cool, or a mix of westerns with grand legacies in a slowing genre with key stars. This happens to be a decent spaghetti western with its own interesting star in Lee Van Cleef. After serving in the U.S Navy during World War II, Van Cleef turned to stage acting before receiving a break into film with High Noon (1952), which was a small villainous part due to his refusal to fix his nose to fit a friendly character. His sharp expressions, eyes and nose resulted in a string of villainous roles in Westerns, sci-fi and noir movies. He nearly had his life and career end in a severe car accident in 1958 (with a kneecap injury that could've led to him never riding a horse again), although he did continue work with television. On the verge of ending his career, he received a break with a key role in For a Few Dollars More (1965) after Charles Bronson rejected the part. He would also appear in the follow-up film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly the following year, with the resulting films helping to make Van Cleef an international star, with varying levels of anti-heroism in a collection of films (a good deal being spaghetti westerns). This was the first film in the Sabata trilogy, for which Van Cleef would star in the first and third films (Return of Sabata), all of whom were directed by Parolini. He had directed a number of sword-and-sandal films along with adaptations of Kommissar X while also the same one behind If You Meet Sartana Pray for Your Death (1968, the first of a five film series), which had featured the title character in a black suit with trick weapons and a motivation for money with a sense of mystery to him.

While this certainly doesn't rank as a particularly great western by any means, there is certainly a good time to be had here with the sum of its parts. Sure, it's a treasure hunt kind of film that has a fair body count and a mixture of action and light humor that make for a welcome curiosity. It might be a cheap western or one that looks made fast, but it sure isn't just a product to consume at the dime store, that much is for sure. Van Cleef excels in confidence when it comes to gravelly-toned dialogue to banter with other briefly or engaging in a drawn out drawdown. It isn't exactly a part befitting of someone wanting to win awards or a hammy turn, but Van Cleef gets the job done with professionalism. Berger, an Austrian-turned-spaghetti western character actor (who had also appeared in the first Sartana film, along with starring in a knock-off version), accompanies the film with quizzical appeal, seeming more out of place in the town as Van Cleef does, and that isn't counting the banjo gun. In that sense, he makes for a few welcome moments. Spalla proves fairly amusing, a formidable presence in wanting to keep him on screen with some mildly wry quip. Ressel proves quite silly in smugness as the main threat for the film, one who portrays avarice with the conviction of a dime-store book needing a few more pages. While the film definitely seems a bit much at 111 minutes when it comes to getting itself going, it ultimately proves a diverting time, with Marcello Giombini's music helping to set a tone of reasoned action with some touch of lightness go right, particularly with its catchy title theme. Ultimately, this is fine entertainment and a neat little gem, with a solid Van Cleef performance to make it an fair sixties film to have in the corner of your mind on a late night.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.
And there we have it, the last one for the month - the first 30-review month since July 2013. As such, here is the listing for the month of June, as we move into the "Me Decade" with 29 films. Hopefully you will enjoy.

Midnight Cowboy.

Review #1431: Midnight Cowboy.

Cast: 
Jon Voight (Joe Buck), Dustin Hoffman (Enrico Salvatore "Ratso" Rizzo), Sylvia Miles (Cass), John McGiver (Mr. O'Daniel), Brenda Vaccaro (Shirley), Barnard Hughes (Towny), Ruth White (Sally Buck), Jennifer Salt (Annie), and Gilman Rankin (Woodsy Niles) Directed by John Schlesinger.

Review: 
"I like making films that have question marks in them and are not all tied up beautifully with a pink ribbon, even though that's what the audience seems to want, and if you give it to them there's more assurance of commercial success, perhaps. But that's never the way I've seen life or reflected life in what I want to put on the screen."

If there was ever a time for a film to come out with a sense of grimy honesty and capable performances to make a tale of New York City from its lower edges come alive, Midnight Cowboy is definitely the film to do it. The changing of the times in what content could be touched upon or shown in films led at last to an film rating system by the Motion Picture Association of America in 1968, which had found initial ratings in G (General), M (Mature), R (Restricted), and X (no admissions under 16, adults-only). This film is known as the first and only X-rated film to have won an Academy Award for Best Picture, although it should be noted that it was later reclassified under the R-rating with no edits done. With that said, it should be no surprise to see such a provocative film come from British actor-turned-director (both feature and short films) John Schlesinger, who made his mark with urban dramas such as A Kind of Loving (1962), Billy Liar (1963), and Darling (1965). Accompanying him is Jon Voight, who had just two film credits before taking on this film and the effort to play a Texan (with the native New Yorker studying tapes of Texans incessantly) and Dustin Hoffman, a method actor that became part of a new generation of actors with versatile performances of varying vulnerability (he convinced the filmmakers to do the film by going out in a dirty coat and blending in with the surroundings). This was an adaptation of the 1965 novel of the same name from James Leo Herlihy. Responsible for the adaptation to film was Waldo Salt, who found a way to shift focus from the first half to the second half of the novel through flash-present sequences that would show the past of the main character through the eyes of a present scene as memories (shown either in color or in black-in-white). Despite anxiety over what people would think of it before release, Schlesinger ultimately felt that he made a film that while it couldn't be made today, captured a "mixture of desperation and humor which I found all along Forty-Second Street." Accordingly, both Salt and Schlesinger would win Academy Awards for their work on this film.

It is clear to see how one made such an interesting film that lurks in the cesspool with such tremendous acting from its main stars with a lasting power of sorts in detailing the underbelly of a city with misfits that make try to forge their way in the big city. There is a tender story worth viewing with Voight and Hoffman that reaches out to the loner in us, the person who yearns for more than what we see in the mirror or what we see in our soul. Hoffman achieves a grand scuzzy quality to his role, one that seeps into the underside without seeming comprised of any frills or distractions to make us believe anything other that we hear and see of him. He is the man perpetually on the outside of even marginal living, selling a character that you might bat an eye at if he was just "walkin' here". Voight matches in line with a curiosity and dandy nature as a would-be hustler that makes for a stirring performance in his pursuit to find somewhere (or someone) to belong with, and the scenes with Hoffman are the most dynamically compelling in interest, particularly when the film starts rolling down to the end of its 113 minute run-time. They may snipe at each other and they may both have plenty of trouble with a city like no other, but there is still a level of warmth beneath all the cold, which is still something to look back upon. A group of eccentrics make for an interesting supporting cast, each of whom get their own little scene with Voight, for which McGiver does the quirkiest and most interesting one as a gay religious fanatic. The film clicks more often than not as a gritty piece of work that breaks innocence of a dream into several little pieces to dissect. It is a tender and somber film to its fateful end, hustling about with no compromises but hard-life choices to make that leave its viewer with something to think about as a key piece of its time and a highlight for its stars that make it a daring and welcome film for those are mature enough for it.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Easy Rider.

Review #1430: Easy Rider.

Cast: 
Peter Fonda (Wyatt), Dennis Hopper (Billy), Jack Nicholson (George Hanson), featuring Phil Spector (Connection), Warren Finnerty (Rancher), Luke Askew (Stranger on highway), Luana Anders (Lisa), Sabrina Scharf (Sarah), Robert Walker Jr (Jack), Hayward Robillard (Cat Man), Arnold Hess Jr (Deputy), Toni Basil (Mary), Karen Black (Karen), with David C. Billodeau and Johnny David (Pickup Truck drivers) Directed by Dennis Hopper.

Review: 
"I am just a middle-class farm boy from Dodge City and my grandparents were wheat farmers. I thought painting, acting, directing and photography was all part of being an artist. I have made my money that way. And I have had some fun. It's not been a bad life." - Dennis Hopper

If one ever needed a time capsule of 1969 that would encapsulate a journey filled with wanderers that look for America and find something beyond their wildest dreams, I would say Easy Rider is that kind of fitting movie. It is a road film like no other, one that represented a high point of the New Hollywood era that would be characterized by films with directors that were given the tools to try and express something different from the studio-dominated directed films of the past. Every few decades have their share of directors that come through the ranks to forge their place with iconic films or presences, and this applies just as much for stars as well. Fonda was already a counterculture icon to some for films such as The Wild Angels (1966) and this picture, and he found inspiration from seeing a still of himself in the former film to make a sort of modern Western with bikers travelling across the country. Hopper, who had made a name for himself as a method actor with a combative personality on film and television (which led to him turning to photography) was called by Fonda to see about trying to make that idea into a film. Hopper and Fonda wrote the film with novelist and Dr. Strangelove co-writer Terry Southern, while Hopper directed, and Fonda produced it. One shouldn't forget Nicholson in all of this, as he had collaborated with Hopper and Fonda previously with his written script for Roger Corman's LSD film The Trip. The credit for who did what when it came to writing is a bit murky, since one can see a good deal of improvisation among a thin story and attempts by Hopper and Fonda to downplay Southern's role in the film. Instead of a music score, the soundtrack is comprised of songs from noted artists and bands such as The Byrds, Steppenwolf, and The Jimi Hendrix Experience, with the licensing for the songs costing around a million dollars (which was larger than the filming budget of over $300,000).

This is a film with its own kind of freedom to move around with its main duo on its own terms that is wild at heart with a power that still has an appeal after all these years, for better or worse. 1969 and 2020 are two completely different years in terms of communication and other various things, but it isn't too hard to still see a commonality in one's search for their own kind of freedom and the problems that can come from it, where the clash of cultures never really did end with the 1960s - it has merely amplified in the prevailing years. What does it really mean to be free?  Through their travels, Hopper and Fonda find themselves in the presence of farmers, hippies, rough locals, and one strange trip in Mardi Gras that make quite an interesting portrait of the times in all of its hopes, dreams, and ultimately anguish, complete with them and Nicholson getting high on marijuana on camera. Fonda makes for a solid performance, not needing to say too much until the trip sequence that gives him room to show a tortured spirit within the guise of freedom (notably, Hopper convinced a reluctant Fonda to talk to the statue as if it was his mother, who had died when he was 10). Hopper makes a subdued but worthwhile misfit to accompany Fonda and make a film with frenzied interest both in the film and outside it. He reportedly had proposed doing a four hour cut that had extended sequences along with extensive use of flash-forward that would insert scenes from later parts of the film into a current scene. Nicholson, who had toiled in low budget roles for over a decade, does a tremendous job with the time he is given as an outsider with spirit and conviction in whatever he does and says on screen, whether that means hitching a ride with a football helmet or talking a theory about aliens among us. In the end, the swift and sudden climax makes for a thoughtful conclusion to a film that travels to being itself with no sense of trying to be something it isn't, appealing to an audience that had seen plenty of events and furor in the sixties that linger in our consciousness now without seeming played out or something to poke at. One gets a feel for the road without being overwhelmed by it all. The jump cuts alongside the carefree camera movements and natural lighting make for an experience worth 95 minutes. As one probably already knows, this was a tremendous hit for Columbia Pictures (at one point, an executive apparently stated that while he didn't know what it meant, it would "make a fuck of a lot of money."), and others would follow in its wake with their own kind of free-spirited and free-willing technique that makes for a worthwhile legacy for a film that is an interesting worthwhile time. It isn't perfect by any means, but it is certainly deserving of a place in the mentions of the films of the 1960s as a sign of the times for present and future in more ways than one.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Once Upon a Time in the West.

Review #1429: Once Upon a Time in the West.

Cast: 
Henry Fonda (Frank), Charles Bronson ("Harmonica"), Claudia Cardinale (Jill McBain), Jason Robards (Manuel "Cheyenne" Gutiérrez), Gabriele Ferzetti (Mr. Morton), Paolo Stoppa (Sam, the Coachman), Marco Zuanelli (Wobbles), Keenan Wynn (the Sheriff of Flagstone), Frank Wolff (Brett McBain), Lionel Stander (The Barman), Woody Strode (Stony, first gunman), Jack Elam (Snaky, second gunman), and Al Mulock (Knuckles, third gunman) Directed by Sergio Leone (#015 - The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, #017 - A Fistful of Dollars, and #019 - For a Few Dollars More)

Review: 
"I had never thought of making a western even as I was making it. I think that my films are westerns only in their exterior aspects. Within them are some of my truths, which happily, I see, belong to lots of parts of the world. Not just America. My discussion is one that has gone all the way from Fistful of Dollars through Once Upon a Time in America. But if you look closely at all these films, you find in them the same meanings, the same humor, the same point of view, and, also, the same pains."

Who better to make an epic Western of the last days of the gunfighter than a man well-known for making capable Westerns with their own kind of style and complexity in Sergio Leone? He was the son of a family of film (father Roberto Roberti was a silent actor and director while mother Bice Valerian was an actress), and he worked in filmmaking from an early age as an assistant to directors such as Vittorio de Sica (Bicycle Thieves) to William Wyler (Ben Hur) that were working in Italy, with his second unit work on the latter going un-credited. He also turned his hand at writing, collaborating with others for his first screenplay credit with Slave Women of Corinth (1958, one of numerous sword-and-sandal works). While working on The Last Days of Pompeii (1959), he was asked to help with direction after the director fell ill. Leone would go un-credited for this, but he would subsequently get his chance to direct with The Colossus of Rhodes (1961). It was a fair success, but his next film proved far more memorable with A Fistful of Dollars (1964), the first of a trilogy of Western films with Clint Eastwood as "The Man with No Name" known as the Dollars trilogy. The films were known for their distinctive visual and thematic style in contrast to the Westerns of the time abroad in the United States (with these three being designated as Spaghetti Westerns). Akira Kurosawa felt that it was a fine film, but that it was his film, since it had taken inspiration from his 1961 film Yojimbo. Regardless of this, Leone would be noted for his extreme close-up shots with long shots that made for a worthwhile career that was comprised of seven directed efforts from 1961 to 1984 before his death of a heart attack in 1989.

The film was an Italian-American production, with Leone being coaxed into making a Western by Paramount because they allowed him a fair budget and the one star he always wanted to direct: Henry Fonda, who was convinced to do the film by friend Eli Wallach (stating that he would have the time of his life). Shooting was mixed between Italy, Spain, and America (notably with Rome and Monument Valley), with considerable preparation made by Leone and his writers in constructing a story with ties to American Westerns of the past, such as The Iron Horse (1924) and The Searchers (1956). Leone co-wrote the screenplay with Sergio Donati, while the story was done by him, Dario Argento, and Bernardo Bertlucci (the latter two would become noted directors in their own right). The touches to other films work themselves out nicely where a lesser film would've seemed too slavish to the past with no ambition forward. The film runs at 166 minutes, although it was changed for American release by cutting twenty minutes (conversely, it was a flop here while a hit abroad). What a marvelous film this is. This is a grand Western to potentially end all Westerns for its era, one with its own vision about the Old West and a pondering nature and scope to back it up with class. Longtime collaborator and famed Italian composer and orchestrator Ennio Morricone is especially important to making this a beauty to listen to, with such distinct and devastating power that reaches for the soul like an opera. The interesting thing is that the music was actually done before shooting started, and Leone would play the music in the background for the actors on set. It takes time to set itself up with its core four of focus, but once it starts rolling down the hill with tension, it never seems to stop in making gritty poetry with somberness to make a revenge story with contemplation over the past and future of the Old West sweep through with the blaze of a railroad engine.

Fonda, generally known for appealing roles over the prevailing four decades, is exactly on point in conviction for such a ruthless lead role, with no ham or any other tricks needed; Leone liked Fonda's blue eyes to reflect his cold character (as opposed to Fonda utilizing contact lenses and a mustache), which would prove quite a shock upon his first appearance on screen with those striking eyes. It should make sense to see Bronson here in a Leone film, since he had rejected the chance to appear in the first film of the Dollars trilogy. Now, with Clint Eastwood rejecting this role for fear of typecasting, it fell to Bronson, who makes the best of it with a hardened stance that invites one in to curiosity that simmers without needing to say (or play the harmonica) much, which proves particularly true for the showdown in the end, a masterful climax to show Fonda and Bronson face each other with skill (after the latter helps the former escape betrayal from within, an interesting scene in of itself). Cardinale, a Italian Tunisian of numerous Italian, French and American productions, shows inner strength and passion that drives the film well, whether when dealing with moving the West forward or a brusque Fonda. Robards (a man of film, television and stage that could do historical roles as well as common ones) rounds the cast out with rough charm and a few zinging moments that make for a colorful rogue to the end. Ferzetti makes for a restrained but welcome presence that encircles the ranging conflicts of greed and lust. In the end, it all proves worth a viewing as a lasting achievement for the Western that utilizes a dynamic cast and music to go with somber tone and pacing for one grand adventure worth the time to view in all of its gritty glory.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Faces.

Review #1428: Faces.

Cast: 
John Marley (Richard Forst), Gena Rowlands (Jeannie Rapp), Lynn Carlin (Maria Forst), Seymour Cassel (Chet), Fred Draper (Freddie Draper), Val Avery (Jim McCarthy), Dorothy Gulliver (Florence), Joanne Moore Jordan (Louise Draper), Darlene Conley (Billy Mae) Written and Directed by John Cassavetes.

Review:
"My films are expressive of a culture that has had the possibility of attaining material fulfillment while at the same time finding itself unable to accomplish the simple business of conducting human lives. We have been sold a bill of goods as a substitute for life. What is needed is reassurance in human emotions; a re-evaluation of our emotional capacities.”

We all know important independence can be in life. It can also be important when it comes to film as well, which proves to be the case with actor and director-writer John Cassavetes, a pioneer of independent cinema. The son of Greek immigrants, he had graduated from the Academy of Dramatic Arts (New York) in 1950 and soon began acting in theater with small bits in film and television following not long after, with works such as The Night Holds Terror (1955) and Edge of the City (1957). He was a proponent of an alternative to method acting through his own workshop that he did in New York City. It was during an appearance on the radio show Night People (hosted by Jean Shepherd) to promote the latter film that he pondered over if someone could make a film about ordinary people (without all the Hollywood business interference). Funds from listeners of the show (which apparently totaled to over $2,000) along with raiding funds from family and friends led him to have a chance to make what he wanted. Over time, he would use funds garnered from acting gigs (with notable performances in films such as The Dirty Dozen (1967) and Rosemary's Baby (1968)) to help fund his films, not wanting to compromise his vision from producers who might have wanted to shift a project to something more "commercial" (although he did do a few films with involvement or distribution with studios, such as the two films before Faces in Two Late Blues and A Child is Waiting). He cultivated his films from his experiences with an fiercely independent streak who once stated that the only person less important than the director on a film set was a talent agent, since he felt a director should create their own material for their films. He was characterized for allowing a manner of improvisation for his actors through their delivery and interpretation of their character, which would shape the story (as opposed to the other way around). Ultimately, he would direct twelve films in a span of 27 years from Shadows (shot in 1957, previewed the following year and then reworked for release in 1959) to Big Trouble (1986, which he disowned) before his death in 1989 at the age of 59. One of his scripts would eventually be adapted into a film after his death with She's So Delovely (1997), directed by his son Nick (the first of Cassavetes' three children to turn to directing).

For this film (his fourth), he spent over six months with filming (most notably filming in the house of his mother-in-law alongside his own) and then three years to edit. The film runs at 130 minutes, but it had existed in numerous forms prior to general release, including an initial cut of six that reduced to four before a preview screening of a three hour version, and a 147 minute version was deposited for preservation at the Library of Congress.  One thing that is for certain is that the film is an interesting look upon communication and how few we really talk to each other. What one thought about communication when it comes to how passive and desperate we are to connect with our loved ones back in 1968 still resonates with how we are now, with Cassavetes managing to make an honest film that sets its own path of casual venom in examining communication with rawness. It can be an uncomfortable sit at times, lingering with conversations on their own terms that can test the patience at times but ultimately work itself out to discussion and curiosity worth having. Marley and Rowlands lead this ensemble (with five of the main six having starred in at least one Cassavetes film before this one) to curious heights, leading one's curiosity with a bit of sadness to it all, whether that means a working man trying to escape his empty love-life in a capable Marley (a character actor with plenty of film/TV credits) or a wiry and knowing performance from Rowlands (an actress of over six decades in film, stage, and television known for collaborations in her husband Cassavetes' films) that serves to drive the film's look at desperation to feel something with someone. Carlin, the secretary-turned-actress makes for a fair debut that captures a hollowed-out person of marriage with subtlety. Cassel shines in carefreeness that pulls you in when he shows himself to try and warm up the presence of desperation without becoming a caricature to laugh at. In the end, this is a bleak movie, but it is one that has a place for doing so on its own terms for its story and for its actors that shows the reflection on the mirror of the 1960s without flinching or making an easy out. It might not be for everybody, but it certainly has a place in inspiring curiosity for those who want something a bit different from the usual fare.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Hour of the Wolf.

Review #1427: Hour of the Wolf.

Cast: 
Max von Sydow (Johan Borg), Liv Ullmann (Alma Borg), Gertrud Fridh (Corinne von Merkens), Georg Rydeberg (Lindhorst), Erland Josephson (Baron von Merkens), Naima Wifstrand (Old Lady with Hat), Ulf Johansson (Heerbrand), Gudrun Brost (Gamla Fru von Merkens), and Ingrid Thulin (Veronica Vogler) Written and Directed by Ingmar Bergman (#777 - The Seventh Seal)

Review: 
"I think we are the sum of what we have read, seen and experienced. I do not think artists are born from emptiness! I am a small stone of a tall building, I depend on each element of the building, next to, above, below."

It never hurts to reach for someone who wants to question the human condition with films. Ingmar Bergman was most certainly a director with enough ambition and detail to accomplish films that have lingered as iconic for Swedish cinema. He had a troubled childhood under strict parenting and unhappy school years, but he developed an interest in the theater and film from an early age, most notably when he acquired a magic lantern (an early type of image projector). Studies in university were mostly dominated by theater and film-watching, and he eventually found himself rewriting scripts for film that led to his true screenwriting debut with Torment (1944) and his eventual directorial debut with Crisis (1946). Bergman felt that art had to expose humiliation and how we as beings do it to each other, since it is "one of the most dreadful companions of humanity, and our whole social system is based to an extent on humiliation." Over the course of nearly sixty years, Bergman would work on numerous films (with all but the last four being for television) that have received notice (from directors past and present to winning three Academy Awards for Best International Film), ranging from Wild Strawberries (1957), The Virgin Spring (1960), and Fanny and Alexander (1982).

The original script (known as "The Cannibals") had been done in 1964, but he later revised the script after a bout of pneumonia made him think of the budget it would take to execute it. Instead, he did the film Persona (1966), but he eventually re-worked the script, which would take inspiration from works such as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's opera The Magic Flute (which Bergman would later adapt into a film in the following decade) alongside Bergman's own nightmares. It is a film that threatens to unravel before one's very own eyes in self-destruction for the artist and in a way the audience. How long can it be before one's creativity starts to turn into madness, particularly if one can't sleep (as is the case for night owls like myself). It is a Gothic nightmare that accomplishes a good deal of what it wants to do in Bergman's own manner that segues into psychological horror. Whether it is reaches you on a level that inspires chills is up to how much patience one has with its moments into surreal territory that seems at times like a retelling of the vampire legend (Bergman was an admirer of Dracula (1931), incidentally). If one is looking for a straight story in 88 minutes, this may not be the one for you. If viewed on its own terms as something to pick apart like a surgeon on the table or an artist looking upon what they have created and having it look back on them, then this works itself out quite nicely. In terms of acting, von Sydow and Ullmann make up our primary focus for the film and each do fine with what they are given, since both each worked with Bergman ten times (this, along with Shame (1968) and The Passion of Anna (1969) are argued by some to be a trilogy involving violence upon ordinary lives and guilt). One shouldn't be surprised to hear this about von Sydow, who was quite versatile in playing heroes and villains in both European and American cinema in over seven decades of work. In this, he makes quite a contemplative focus in terms of a tortured artist, one with plenty of brooding conviction in his dealing with the real and unreal involving demons and insomnia. Ullmann, the Norwegian actress of international fare and along with eventual director of her own films, accompanies our focus as the other side of the coin with von Sydow in her own type of despair and struggle in trying to keep herself intact from falling off the edge, beginning and ending the film with poignancy. The others do fine in accompanying the quiet terror that builds in garnering curiosity in a subtle haunt. The sequence involving von Sydow and a kid, a involving overexposed photography is likely the most memorable part, at least if one isn't going with just images, which could involve a ceiling or a sequence with a little person in the closet. On the whole, this is a film with plenty of despair as a sketch upon the things that haunt us in and out of our dreams when it comes to creativity and the encompassing companionship that one tries to seek out (or vice versa) to alleviate the creature that lurks in the dark of humiliation in the hour of birth and death. It may require a bit of patience to push it forward, but it is generally a fair piece by Bergman with enough curiosity factor to make it a good sell for world cinema to view at least once.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

In Cold Blood.

Review #1426: In Cold Blood.

Cast: 
Robert Blake (Perry Smith), Scott Wilson (Dick Hickock), John Forsythe (Alvin Dewey), Paul Stewart (Jensen, the reporter), Gerald S. O'Loughlin (Harold Nye), Jeff Corey (Walter Hickock), John Gallaudet (Roy Church), James Flavin (Clarence Duntz), Charles McGraw (Tex Smith), Sammy Thurman (Flo Smith), Will Geer (Prosecuting attorney), John McLiam (Herbert Clutter), Ruth Storey (Bonnie Clutter), Brenda C. Currin (Nancy Clutter), and Paul Hough (Kenyon Clutter) Written, Produced, and Directed by Richard Brooks (#871 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and #1033 - Dollars)

Review: 
"If you’re thinking of getting into the movies, you better like it a whole lot. You better love making movies. Because it’s not easy--it’s not easy to make even a bad movie. You better be prepared to eat it, unsalted, because that’s the job of a movie maker. You better like it, because that’s what you’re going to have to do.”

The late 1960s were exactly a time for boundaries to be pushed further for film. Richard Brooks proved to be one of numerous directors that would bridge the gap between the studio system style of directing films and the growing independence (with some studio influence) of later years to make for a career of over 40 years of directing, writing, and producing. He had originally started work as a journalist and sports reporter before deciding to move to work in the theater and work on B-films. He also wrote novels as well, with The Brick Foxhole (1945, written while in the Marine Corps) being adapted as Crossfire (1947) being turned into a film. He moved to noir thriller not long after the war ended, helping to write works such as The Killers (1946) and Key Largo (1948) before given a chance to direct with alongside write with Crisis (1950). He would do 24 films in total as director (with the ones after Cat on a Hot Tin Roof being done independently after leaving MGM), with highlights including Blackboard Jungle (1955), Elmer Gantry (1960), and The Professionals (1966). Even early in his career he received respect, being described by French magazine Cahiers du Cinema as a "rebel" American auteur filmmaker, who believed that telling and doing a story was most important (stating that directing, editing, and scoring was writing). This went hand in hand with his reputation as a hard-as-nails man of his work who was prone to outbursts of anger, even when he became producer of his films (six of his last nine were produced by him including this one). On one of his films, he gathered the crew on their first day and told them that while they may have their own ideas and contributions about how to make it improved, they should keep it to themselves since it is was going to be done his way as "his fucking movie".

This was adapted from the novel of the same name by Truman Capote, who wrote what he labeled a "non-fiction novel" (being one of the first works to be associated with that genre) over the span of six years (while accompanied by friend Harper Lee) that detailed the 1959 murders of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Kansas that that had a triple narrative that jumped around the lives of the killers, the family, and the other members of the rural community (two films were subsequently made involving Capote's experience with writing the book in Capote and Infamous). The film strives for realism right down to the locations, since the sites of the actual crime in Kansas were used for a good deal of filming, most notably with the Clutter home (although the state penitentiary scenes were not allowed to be filmed in the prison, so sets were used instead). One noted difference between the novel and film was the adding of a reporter character to the proceedings, no doubt inspired by Capote (who went to Kansas after hearing about the murders to cover the manhunt and do interviews, where he eventually formed a bond with Smith). They even had some of the original jurors from the trial appear for the film. The attention to detail, combined with a documentary-style cinematography from Conrad Hall makes for a highly effective film. Brooks was firm in his intent to not have big stars play the main characters, feeling that it would be a distraction (Columbia Pictures originally wanted Steve McQueen and Paul Newman, for example). Blake was a child star who had grown up to less known roles as an adult while Wilson was in only his second ever film role, recommended by Sidney Poitier and Quincy Jones (who both worked with Wilson earlier with In the Heat of the Night). Blake proves the best performance of the whole group, one riddled with creeping conviction that lures you into a world of darkness as a brutal contradiction that creeps under the surface until the climatic flashback, with his conversation about his father in the rain sequence (where it looks like tears that stays on his face) being a somber highlight. Wilson captures dark charm that fits the other side of the crazed coin with an impulsive nature that seems likes a ticking time bomb, whether that means trying to lure someone into a trap or force their way through street senses. Forsythe (known for his television work) delivers quality as the real-life authority figure, while Stewart (a portrayer of often sinister and cynical characters in film, television, stage, and radio) delivers cynicism like a Greek chorus (which Capote took exception to) that observes the pursuit with eventual narration that contrasts him with everyone else, particularly since he is the one to ponder over the events that have occurred with the film after it closes, and the other members of the cast do well whenever there is some focus on them (such as Corey and McGraw each talking about how they tried to raise their kid). The film balances its narratives with care that builds to its violent action near the end with key amounts of darkness and shock (likely better than if it had just been shown in the first half), with a message that mostly hits its mark in the end, depending on how one feels about the death penalty. On the whole, this is a efficient film, filled with detail and execution with devastating lead performances and a 134 minute run-time that makes for a creeping experience that packs a punch after five decades as a gem of realism and a study of human nature.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Review #1425: The St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Cast: 
Jason Robards (Al Capone), George Segal (Peter Gusenberg), Ralph Meeker (George "Bugs" Moran), Jean Hale (Myrtle), Jan Merlin (Willie Marks), Clint Ritchie (Machine Gun Jack McGurn), David Canary (Frank Gusenberg), Harold J. Stone (Frank Nitti), Frank Silvera (Nick Sorello), Joseph Campanella (Albert Wienshank), Richard Bakalyan (John Scalise), Charles Dierkop (Salvanti), John Agar (Dion O'Bannion), Joseph Turkel (Jake Gusik), Bruce Dern (Johnny May), and Paul Frees (Narrator) Produced and Directed by Roger Corman (#368 - The Little Shop of Horrors, #684 - It Conquered the World, #852 - The Terror, #931 - Not of This Earth, #1007 - Attack of the Crab Monsters, #1039 - Five Guns West, #1042 - War of the Satellites, #1136 - Gas-s-s-s, #1147 - X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes, #1186 - A Bucket of Blood, and #1423 - The Wild Angels)

Review: 
"There comes a time when the public conscience needs jolting and in St Valentine's Day Massacre this is our intention. It is also certain that the movie will make money - crime is always box office."

As one would say, give people what they want and they will come see it in theaters. One can talk for ages about the ways that Roger Corman has served film well in making them fast, cheap and generally good that have served him well in a long-lasting career as producer and director. This is an unusual film in his lineup because of his collaboration with a major studio in 20th Century Fox, as opposed to his usual independent filmmaking. He had expressed an interest with making a film with a major studio, and he attracted the attention of Columbia Pictures. Cracks seemed to form almost immediately, as his submitted ideas (a biopic of Baron Von Ritchhofen, this film, and an adaptation of Only Lovers Left Alive) were considered too strange while their ideas seemed too ordinary to him, with Corman believing in giving the audience "something a little more complex artistically and intellectually. To show something you can't see on TV leads inevitably to unusual material." Perhaps predictably, he would never end up making a film for Columbia, leaving the production of A Time for Killing (1967) early on. However, he would be granted a chance with Fox, since I suppose one can't resist the urge to do business with a proven director for fast and effective moneymakers, with this being a particularly interesting year for evolving tastes (the first coming to mind being Bonnie and Clyde).

Corman would have to modify certain aspects of his plan to make the film with the studio, however. For one thing, he wanted Orson Welles to play the lead role with Robards as the character of Moran. However Fox felt that he was undirectable and could potentially try to take rein of the director's chair from Corman. Ideas to film in Chicago were soon shifted to the Fox backlot, and Corman even re-used sets from other movies. While given seven weeks and $2.5 million to make a film, he felt most comfortable with tighter budgets, although he generally felt more comfortable as producer than directing, with this being the sixth-to-last film that he directed. He strived to make an authentic and accurate gangster film, right down to the climax and having the bodies lie where they fell in the original crime photos. The portrayal of Capone by Robards was the third in a feature film (after the first by Rod Steiger in the eponymously titled film in 1959, which also had The Untouchables premiere on TV), and Corman would return to the subject as producer for Capone (1975). In that matter, this is a decent ensemble piece with careful plotting that shows its criminal underside without trouble to make a 100 minute tale resonate with a bit of shock value. It isn't one of Corman's greatest achievements, but it at least one with ambition and the tools to try and make things work out with its buildup to the massacre with gradual use of Frees as narrator to describe the characters and their actions. Robards and Meeker stand out the most in the cast. Although it might have proved more fruitful to have had Welles in the title role, Robards makes the most of it with scene-chewery that makes for well-seen bluster whenever the time is needed to raise voice. Meeker contrasts this with his own type of conniving spirit of conviction, while Segal, Stone and the others follow along in making for some interesting unsavory people to look at for a time that doesn't lead one to want some sort of authority opposition or some sort of comic relief. On the whole, this is a decent little movie from Roger Corman in something a bit different from his usual tactics of filmmaking that still retains his usual drive to make quality entertainment that lives up as a decent gem for its era.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Closely Watched Trains.

Review #1424: Closely Watched Trains.

Cast: 
Václav Neckář (Miloš Hrma), Vlastimil Brodský (Councilor Zedníček), Jitka Bendová (Conductor Máša), Josef Somr (Train Dispatcher Hubička), Libuše Havelková (Stationmaster's wife), Vladimír Valenta (Stationmaster), Jitka Zelenohorská (Telegraphist Zdenička), Naďa Urbánková (Viktoria Freie), and Jiří Menzel (Doctor Brabec) Directed by Jiří Menzel.

Review: 
“In my opinion, the true poetry of this movie, if it has any, lies not in the absurd situation themselves, but in their juxtaposition with obscenity and tragedy”

A coming of age tale can come in all kinds of forms, no matter what decade or country it is. There is plenty of space for cinema to show something about the absurdities that life can bring to our doorstep that can be played for both laughs and tension, which proves to be the case here. Closely Watched Trains [Ostře sledované vlaky] was adapted from Bohumil Hrabal's 1965 novel of the same name, with the author working closely with Menzel on the screenplay. It is generally referred to be part of the Czechoslovak New Wave, a film movement that started in 1963 that played to pushing the envelope in content that was in previous years reined in heavily by Czechoslovakia state censors, having absurdity and surrealism over the more typical social realist fare. Most of the directors associated with this movement were students (comprised of mostly Czech directors, although Slovak Štefan Uher is generally included as part of the movement) who had attended the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague, such as Milos Forman, Vera Chytilová, Jaromil Jires, and Menzel, who made his feature film debut here after a string of student films, documentaries, and segments. The Prague Spring (done by the Soviets to reinforce their grip on the country as a Communist state) led to a swift end of the movement by 1968 (with directors either emigrating out of the country or blacklisted), but the impact from these films have managed to reach to audiences today, with this winning an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film (the second of three Czech films to win one, the first being The Shop on Main Street in 1965).

This is a film that approaches its serious subject of trying to become an adult in the face of growing pains (while set in the latter stages of World War II) with honesty and a touch of humor that makes for a charming little movie of innocence. It doesn't aim for anything too obvious that one might see with a different approach that could've emphasized the story more or (if made in a further decade) added raunchier elements to it. The film is well-paced at 92 minutes, moving with its quirky characters with leisure and stark cinematography from Jaromír Šofr to capture the simple countryside. Neckář pulls in a capable performance to follow along with, growing with the film with conviction and consistency for a lead type different from the usual aspiring hero (with him seeming to fit the type in the saying that the meek shall inherit the Earth). Zedníček proves a interesting contrast to the usual carefree atmosphere with blustery attempts at guile that amuse in contrast to the others (after all, he only thinks of them as laughing hyenas, a statement that was actually used by a Nazi official). Bendova proves fairly charming despite not having as much to do on screen as the others. Somr does quite well with playfulness and cunning that works well with Neckar in driving curiosity for the measure of a man in the eyes of someone wanting to become one. The rest of the cast do well with subtlety, contributing the gradual build-up of the plot and enveloping moments of amusement with care and restraint. By the time the film moves to its swift ending, one feels satisfied with its subtlety in its balance of drama and comedy that is never too broad on either genre that reaches entertainment with a frank look upon life and what it means to become an adult with ensuing expectations and problems that come with it, which can reach anyone regardless of the decade or country. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Wild Angels.

Review #1423: The Wild Angels.

Cast: 

Peter Fonda (Heavenly Blues), Nancy Sinatra (Mike), Bruce Dern (Joe 'Loser' Kearns), Diane Ladd (Gaysh), Buck Taylor (Dear John), Norman Alden (Medic), Michael J. Pollard (Pigmy), and Frank Maxwell (Funeral preacher) Produced and Directed by Roger Corman (#368 - The Little Shop of Horrors, #684 - It Conquered the World, #852 - The Terror, #931 - Not of This Earth, #1007 - Attack of the Crab Monsters, #1039 - Five Guns West, #1042 - War of the Satellites, #1136 - Gas-s-s-s, #1147 - X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes, and #1186 - A Bucket of Blood)

Review: 

What has been said about Roger Corman that hasn't been said before? He is a trailblazer of independent cinema, one who has directed, wrote, and produced numerous films over in over six decades of work, whether through American International Pictures or through New World Pictures (which he founded) or through various ventures. He has collaborated with several people who have gone on to have careers of their own such as directors Francis Ford Coppola, Jonathan Demme, and Peter Bogdanovich (who served as production assistant and un-credited writer that modified Charles B. Griffith's script). He made films in a variety of genres for studios, whether that meant Westerns, horror, or exploitation features like this. He was inspired to do this film from a photograph in Life magazine that depicted a group of the Hells Angels motorcycle gang on their way to a funeral for a member. It wasn't the first film to depict a motorcycle rampage (popularized by The Wild One (1953) and subsequent exploitations films), but it would attempt to show its gang from the inside, since Corman saw them as "riding free as a modern-day cowboy." (this was of course before they were profiled by Hunter S. Thompson in 1967 and events such as the Altamont disaster). Actual members of the club were utilized for the film, paid $35 a day for cooperation and $25 for use of the bikes. Dern found himself with a role for the film when George Chakiris could not ride a motorcycle (imagine wanting a stunt double for a film about outlaw bikers as a focus), so Fonda went from a supporting role in the Loser character to the main focus.

This is the kind of film that has an aim for freedom with its characters, what with its climatic quote near the end from Fonda about said desire for freedom without trouble from "The Man" and have a good time doing it. The fact that this is said during a funeral only makes it amusing (particularly since it was later sampled for a song). There is a sense of ridiculousness with how it tries to balance its nihilism with a wavering focus and pallid pace at 93 minutes. I suppose this is the best example of a film fitting the project management triangle: It can be good, fast, or cheap, but one can only pick two of those options. In this case, it is evident that the latter two fit this film to a T. One could've made a film with less dialogue and probably come out better for it than what happens here. On the one hand, it is an interesting piece for the late 1960s that shows some promise in the beginning, but ultimately it can't quite live up as anything other than mild exploitation at best, something that aims for riding free but ultimately coming up short of anything really meaningful. Fonda, a different kind of leading man that would become a counterculture figure for the era, pulls off a subdued performance that has a small edge of calm collectedness in leading a band of misfits to whatever point seems necessary, whether that means raising trouble or not. Sinatra, a singer (best known for her hit song "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" in 1966) and occasional actor, proves to be a quiet calm presence that seems in need of more to do (the same could be said for Ladd). Dern, who would go on to a career of his own with usually villainous supporting roles, is rough but interesting to view in the time he is present, even if his last scene is just him acting dead and being given a cigarette in a ruckus. The others come and go with a line or so, and a lack of conflict (no, arguing with a preacher over how the funeral should be doesn't count) makes things teeter on tediousness, with a dispiriting ending that I suppose is meant to mean something about not having anywhere else to go. Perhaps that is an apt metaphor for an average film that never really seems to go anywhere to begin with. To me, it seems too dated to really rise to something worth checking out, unless one really needs a raucous biker film from way back when or want to see a selection from Roger Corman in his prime decade.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Nayak (1966).

Review #1422: Nayak.

Cast: 
Uttam Kumar (Arindam Mukherjee), Sharmila Tagore (Aditi Sengupta), Bireswar Sen (Mukunda Lahiri), Somen Bose (Shankar), Nirmal Ghosh (Jyoti), Premangshu Bose (Biresh), Jogesh Chatterjee (Aghore Chattopadhyay), Sumita Sanyal (Promila Chatterjee), Ranjit Sen (Haren Bose), and Bharati Devi (Manorama) Written and Directed by Satyajit Ray.

Review: 
"For a popular medium, the best kind of inspiration should derive from life and have its roots in it. No amount of technical polish can make up for artificiality of the theme and the dishonesty of treatment."

When it comes to great Indian filmmakers, the one who ranks up as one if not the first to mention is Satyajit Ray. Ray was born in Calcutta (now known as Kolkata) in 1921, and he initially aspired to do visual design as a career (working in an advertising agency), where he did book covers and designed his own typefaces. In 1947, he was one of the founders of the Calcutta Film Society in 1947, which screened films such as Battleship Potemkin (1925) and other films from Europe and Russia despite small membership for years. Two key directors helped influence him to become a filmmaker. He helped Jean Renoir in finding locations in the countryside for his film The River in 1949 (the film was released two years later), and the two had a meeting that involve Ray's interest in the work Pather Panchali, which Renoir encouraged him to do. The following year, he was sent to London by his agency to do work there, and one key film he saw in his time there was Vittorio De Sica's Bicycle Thieves (1948), which impacted him enough to want to do a film, which he would do over the course of over two years with his personal savings. The resulting film in Pather Panchali (1955) proved a tremendous success in both India and abroad. Over the course of the next thirty-six years, he would do 28 further films, numerous documentaries and short films, earning accolades and attention for his Apu Trilogy (1955-1959) alongside his work as a composer and fiction/screen writing, receiving both the civilian award Bharat Ratna from his native India and an Honorary Academy Award shortly before his death in 1992.

Sometimes it helps to do a film in the middle of a great career, particularly one as interesting as this proves to be with the questions it wants to raise about celebrity. What does it mean to be famous? Where does the time go when it comes to living a life where there are people who admire (and on the other side despise) what you do? What is the worth of a hero (star)? Set primarily on a train with flashbacks and dreams that gradually reveal what makes up a supposed hero in 117 minutes, Nayak [Hero] is a captivating and somber movie, one of capable intelligence and craftsmanship from Ray (who also did the music and co-edited the film with Dulal Dutta) and a cast that holds its own in capturing a portrait of a man trapped in his own celebrity from empathy. This is helped through one key nightmare involving money and being sunken deep into it without escape. Kumar, a prolific actor of Bengali and Hindi films that Ray wrote the film in mind for, is devastatingly effective in naturalism with a confident role layered with anxiety that is filled with conviction in charisma and fear that permeates beyond his eyes. One can see a star just as well as one can see arrogance and also unraveling fear. Tagore (in her third of five collaborations with Ray) matches up with him with wise consideration that counteracts the adoration most give to its lead in terms of attention with her own thinking that we find ourselves interested in, an observer with her own degree of criticality that serves her well. The others do well in filling the parts of the train with their own little stories around our main character, whether that means an encounter with kids and people who want autographs or people who have their own interest in minds, which each comes to play when the climax arises with a drunken moment for our lead. That proves to be a harrowing moment, after seeing all of the flashbacks to a life with success and regret within. By the time of the arrival of the train to its metaphorical and literal stop, one finds themselves fairly satisfied by where the trip has taken them, one that invites questions and answers (of sorts) to make something worthy checking out among Ray's immense career full of natural and carefully crafted films.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Doctor Zhivago.

Review #1421: Doctor Zhivago.

Cast: 
Omar Sharif (Dr. Yuri Andreyevich Zhivago), Julie Christie (Lara Antipova), Geraldine Chaplin (Tonya Gromeko), Rod Steiger (Victor Ippolitovich Komarovsky), Alec Guinness (Lieutenant General Yevgraf Andreyevich Zhivago), Tom Courtenay (Pavel "Pasha" Antipov / Strelnikov), Siobhán McKenna (Anna Gromeko), Ralph Richardson (Alexander Maximovich Gromeko), Rita Tushingham (Tanya Komarova), Jeffrey Rockland (Sasha), Bernard Kay (Kuril), and Klaus Kinski (Kostoyed Amoursky) Directed by David Lean (#286 - Lawrence of Arabia)

Review: 
"Secrets are what you confide to people in the dark. I think one of the things we've lost in the cinema is intimacy. Now you see appalling things happening and high excitement, but you rarely get right into people."

If one needed to view an epic drama or romance, one could find a great argument to be made for David Lean. He was born in England to Quaker parents; he had his first experience with watching cinema at thirteen, and receiving a Brownie camera as a gift from his uncle served as a good hobby for him. He found work as an apprentice in his father's accountancy firm, but he found himself more interested in the cinema, and this led to him joining Gaumont Studios in 1927. He served in various roles for the studio such as tea and clapper boy and eventually cutting room assistant. Over the next few years, he would become chief editor at Gaumont British News before shifting to editor on film in 1939. Three years later, playwright Noël Coward gave him a chance to direct with him with the war film In Which We Serve (1942), which served him well in directing further films (which he would do through forming Cineguild Productions with cinematographer Ronald Neame and producer Anthony Havelock-Allan, which lasted from 1944 to 1949), with his next six films being adaptation of plays and novels (three of them being works from Coward), which led to noted movies like Brief Encounter (1945) and Great Expectations (1946). A perfectionist with a tendency for autocratic behavior on set, Lean would make sixteen films in a career of 42 years, receiving plenty of attention for works such as Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), and Lawrence of Arabia (1962, which like this film was written by Robert Bolt), and his final work A Passage to India (1984, which he also wrote and edited).

The film was based on the 1957 novel of the same name by Boris Pasternak, a poet whose work is noted for its long and intricate structure that span over forty years against the backdrop of an evolving Russia in the 20th century (with the poet's views on said transition being the reason for the Soviet Union opposing its publication), and the controversy over the novel meant that it could not be filmed in Russia, with a majority of filming instead being in Spain. The film runs at 200 minutes (after an original length of 197 and a restoration that occurred in the late 1990s) with the intent of something intimately romantic and epic. How much the film accomplishes in that regard is up to the viewer, and there have been plenty who encountered it, since it ranks as one of the highest grossing films of its era (behind fellow 1965 film The Sound of Music), and this film won Academy Awards in art direction, cinematography, screenplay, costume design and score. All of this window-dressing for a film held n some ways as a classic is me trying to figure out exactly why the actual experience for me was just fine at best. Can it be possible to make something that has scope and ambition to tell a long story and yet seem lacking in making a romance epic whole? The words seem to be there, and there is plenty of interesting scenery and set design to go around with acting that is generally convincing, but it doesn't seem as great as it wants to portray itself. It has a sappy seductive power that can either sweep you off your feet or make you struggle to not roll your eyes in where it (theoretically) wants to go. Thrust into a title role is Sharif, an Egyptian actor of numerous British and American productions that had approached Lean about a supporting role but ended up being cast as the lead by Lean. His performance comes off decent, where his expressive eyes seem to try and hide a passive character that has bare chemistry with everything that happens to occur around him. Christie, a British actress who rose to prominence through films like this and Darling (1965), proves adept in generating passion through chemistry with Sharif that gradually builds to something halfway meaningful, a soap opera that mutates itself into trying to be taken seriously. Chaplin, a dancer-turned-model-turned actress in her English-language debut, can only do so much with a doormat type of character, one who generates far more interest in her kindness than the others who is doomed to be the first wheel to fall off the proverbial romantic vehicle. Of the whole cast, it is method icon of volatility in Steiger that proves most interesting, as he commands your attention with his intimidating nature that serves the film well in starting and ending things without becoming too much in blustering for the sake of it. It is nice to see Guinness from time to time, even when serving as a framing device for everything around him. Courtenay rounds things out with composed rebelliousness that serves him well from time to time.

There are tough choices to make for a film like this, and in some ways the film carries those dilemmas with a right touch and other times with a heavy-handed approach. It is like a piece of art that has plenty of color and lines but seems to be missing that central focus to bring it all completely together. It proves no wonder why no one has tried to make a second theatrical adaptation of this work: For one thing, television seems more adept in covering such an expansive work like this, and it might very well be folly to think one can top the highs generated by a film as iconic as this one is - regardless of how it might land for folks like me. It is immensely flawed, but it is nevertheless something to consider as a film for the 1960s worth pondering over, whether for its sweeping images or its gestures of romance that come together for a spectacle that can help lend inspiration to audiences then as before, if one has the patience and understanding for it.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.