El Topo.

Review #1794: El Topo.

Cast: 

Alejandro Jodorowsky (El Topo), Brontis Jodorowsky (Hijo / Topo's son), José Legarreta (Moribundo), Alfonso Arau (Bandido 1), José Luis Fernández (Bandido 2), Ali Junco (Bandido 3), Gerardo Zepeda (Bandido 4), René Barrera (Bandido 5), René Alís (Bandido 6), Federico Gonzáles (Bandido 7), Vicente Lara (Bandido 8), Pablo Leder (Monje 1), Giuliano Girini Sasseroli (Monje 2), Cristian Merkel (Monje 3), Aldo Grumelli (Monje 4), and Mara Lorenzio (Marah / La mujer - The Woman) Written and Directed by Alejandro Jodorowsky.

Review: 

"Was born in Bolivia, of Russian parents, lived in Chile, worked in Paris, was the partner of Marcel Marceau, founded the 'Panic' movement with Fernando Arrabal, directed 100 plays in Mexico, drew a comic strip, made 'El Topo,' and now lives in the United States -- having not been accepted anywhere, because in Bolivia I was a Russian, in Chile I was a Jew, in Paris I was a Chilean, in Mexico I was French, and now, in America, I am a Mexican."

 

One does not draw a straight line when it comes to looking at directors from all across the world, because one does not just find a director and their perspective. Alejandro Jodorowsky was born in Chile in 1929 to Ukranian Jewish immigrants. He studied at the University of Chile for a time before dropping out; he soon dabbled in writing plays and soon founded an experimental theatre group. In 1953, he moved to Paris, France, where he would do various things, such as working with Marcel Marceau and his first film was a collaboration with Saul Gilbert and Ruth Michelly in a 1957 short called The Severed Heads [La Cravate]. He would soon add Mexico to his travels, where he wrote and drew a comic strip for several years. Fando y Lis [Fando and Lis] (1968) was his first feature film, and it is most memorable for the stir it created on premiere at the Acapulco Film Festival because of its "blasphemous" nature. Leave it to midnight movie advocates to help the film. Ben Barenholtz saw a private screening of the film and liked it enough to showcase it at his Elgin Theater, generally showing it around midnight. The success of these screenings came from notable names like John Lennon and Yoko Ono, who liked it so much that they convinced Allen Klein (former manager of the Beatles) to buy the rights of the film and help distribute it across the country. Klein helped fund Jodorowsky's next venture with The Holy Mountain (1973), but it was not as successful; later, when Klein wanted a more commercial venture for the director to adapt, Jodorowsky suggested doing Dune and the resulting disagreement led to Klein withholding El Topo [The Mole] from circulation for decades. At any rate, Jodorowsky has worked in a variety of roles for several decades: film director (eight features and a documentary), writer (comics, poetry), "psychomagic" therapist...you get the idea.

Besides the fact that Jodorowsky is the main star, his young son Brontis (age seven) is featured alongside dwarf and mutilated actors. The actors perform as one might see from an arthouse movie in curiosity - i.e. it may be amateur, but it is better than if it was pros trying to be clever (besides, when it comes to actor-directors, Jodorowsky does fine). Anyway, the thing about surreal movies, particularly ones that can fall into the realm of the "spaghetti Western" with its raw energy that is quite fluid with all the symbolism and commentary presented in 125 minutes. It is the kind of movie that one just has to experience for themselves without trying to go all-in on interpretation, since it is the wonder that matters more, where making sense is an illusion. It is a hypnotic experience, seemingly ripe for the arthouse crowd in all of the best and worst ways (in other words, one will really, really like what it does.... or really not dig it). It can be described as a" redemption tale", in that one is sort of watching a man confront "spiritual enlightenment" through four masters of the gun that deal with various philosophies....and then he dies and is reborn in a cave with underground dwellers that ends with folks walking off on a horse. Well, there is plenty to talk about in between those moments, but it is probably best to not think too hard about it. This is the kind of movie where a cult does a round of Russian roulette as a form of "miracle" that sees adults and a kid partake in it. I think most of the film works in a presentation of life and death, where looking for answers will only result in more questions, much in the same way that looking for enlightenment will only result in a continued search. By the time everything ends, one can only hope they have found what they were looking for (see, am I talking about the movie...or life? Enjoy guessing!). As a whole, if you are looking for an acid Western to enjoy late at night to perhaps examine piece by piece for its display of imagery and exploitative energy, this is likely the one you are waiting for.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Well, it is finally over for January. I hope looking at thirteen new directors was as interesting for you as it was for me. It might become something worth doing at least once every year, so any suggestion is helpful. See you later...

Putney Swope.

Review #1793: Putney Swope.

Cast: 

Arnold Johnson (Putney Swope; dubbed by Robert Downey Sr), Stan Gottlieb (Nathan), Allen Garfield (Elias, Jr), Archie Russell (Joker), Ramon Gordon (Bissinger), Bert Lawrence (Hawker), Joe Madden (Mr. Syllables), David Kirk (Elias, Sr), Don George (Mr. Cards), Buddy Butler (Putney's Bodyguard), Vincent Hamill (Man in White Suit), Tom Odachi (Wing Soney), Ching Yeh (Wing Soney, Jr.), Joe Fields (Pittburgh Willie), Norman Schreiber (Messenger), Robert Staats (Mr. War Toys), Alan Abel (Mr. Lucky) Directed by Robert Downey Sr.

Review: 

"To see how people forty years later...I think the film doesn't hold up, you know, to me, it's like, okay. But I'm pleased that people, especially young people tell me their parents made them watch it as little kids...It's the only film of mine that ever really got distribution."

You have to understand that some movies don't just pop into popularity without warning. Sometimes they just happen to hit the sweet-spot of its culture and time, regardless if they were made in the underground or in the "mainstream". It should only figure that the year that brought shocking films like The Wild Bunch and Easy Rider would bring forth a scattershot look upon the advertising industry with eyes that perhaps strike relevancy fifty years since its release. While it is the most well-known feature directed by Robert Downey Sr, he managed to cultivate a fascinating career of filmmaking that persevered far more than just being a one-hit wonder. The New York City native served in the United States Army, serving most of his time in the stockade. It was during this time where he was inspired to take up writing (as suggested by his boss in order to pass the time). He also spent time in dabbling in boxing and playwrighting. In the 1960s, he started making independent films that aligned with the Absurdist movement (of course, this was the time when the counterculture of anti-establishment was bearing fruit), which he described as having fun more than a regular job. From 1961 to 2005, he directed (and sometimes wrote) a selection of features and documentaries that had various perspectives without as much distribution as this film. Pound (1970), for example, deals with animals waiting to be euthanized...played by human actors (it also featured Downey's five-year old son Robert Jr in his first role, and he would appear in a handful of Downey Sr's features); Downey Sr would prove an influence to directors such as Jim Jarmusch and Paul Thomas Anderson.

Before he made this film, he had been hired to do commercials (experimental commercials that would try to provoke ad agencies to do stuff like that, which he did for a year), and it was a moment where he asked his boss why he was being paid more than a black colleague for the same work that inspired the film (this is present in the film, of course). The thing about the movie is this: it received attention because it caught the eye of a theater chain owner & distributor (Don Rugoff) that liked it enough to help get it seen in theaters despite the fact he didn't understand it; a notable promotional campaign (complete with a poster giving the finger) also helped; the film was made for $250,000, complete with an assortment of actors recruited from magazines. Johnson apparently could not remember his lines, so Downey Sr did the dubbing for his character, which certainly brings a curious perspective when it comes to the fact that the character of Swope is both the most interesting person in the film despite the fact that it is basically played by two people. The other castmates (for which there is plenty of to show) are decent, in the sense that one is watching an offshoot movie that could either be for a sketch troupe or an arthouse imitator. The movie has a scattershot sense of pace, moving through its 84 minute run-time with episodic pace (such as pointed commercials shot in color) that goes through a satire of the corporate structure alongside racial politics. As a whole, it mostly works as an amusing feature, particularly with its opening sequence involving a board room with (mostly white) corporate sleazeballs; if one wanted to see folks at their most craven, one could just slip into a marketing discussion, I bet. Of course, most of the commercials featured are pretty amusing, such as one involving a serenade with poetic raunchy words. The movie basically points the finger of biting amusement at everyone, where the chance to gain power and fiddle with the status quo results in something familiar. As a whole, the movie is fairly effective in biting satire in the counterculture with its collection of misfit actors and an engaging director in Downey Sr that managed to become an offbeat winner for what it did in its time that still connects now.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: El Topo.

This Sporting Life.

Review #1792: This Sporting Life.

Cast: 

Richard Harris (Frank Machin), Rachel Roberts (Margaret Hammond), Alan Badel (Gerald Weaver), William Hartnell ("Dad" Johnson), Colin Blakely (Maurice Braithwaite), Vanda Godsell (Mrs. Anne Weaver), Anne Cunningham (Judith), Jack Watson (Len Miller), Arthur Lowe (Charles Slomer), Harry Markham (Wade), George Sewell (Jeff), and Leonard Rossiter (Phillips, Sports writer) Directed by Lindsay Anderson.

Review: 

"I suppose I'm the boy who stood on the burning deck whence all about he had fled. The trouble is I don't know whether the boy was a hero or a bloody idiot."

The British New Wave may have been just another style of films released in the 1960s reflecting its country, but it surely merits interest for the directors and stars that came out of its brief wake. Sure, it had similarities to the French New Wave (features imitating documentaries trying to capture a form of real life not seen in prior films in its country), but there is still something worth looking into when talking about British voices, particularly Lindsay Anderson. Anderson was born in British India in 1923. He had a scholarship for classic studies at Wadham College, Oxford before he took service in the Army as a member of the 60th King's Royal Rifle Corps and as a cryptographer. He returned to Oxford after the War and shifted his studies to English before graduating in 1948. He took up writing around this period, which included founding a magazine dedicated to film journalism in Sequence alongside people such as Karel Reisz. In the next decade, he would develop a philosophy of cinema that is referred to as "Free Cinema", in which they advocated for a British cinema that focused on being free from the constraints of demands for documentary filmmaking of the time (i.e. one that aimed for the working class to be seen on screen). From 1948 to 1967, he directed a handful of documentary short films (through funding from sources like Ford of Britain), and his earliest noticed short was Thursday's Children (1954), which he did with Guy Brenton about deaf children and their education. The two were awarded an Academy Award for Best Documentary Short. He also started doing work in the theatre in 1957, which he would do on-and-off for the next three decades. Anderson had his feature directorial debut with this film, and he would follow it up with six further features and two documentaries before his death in 1994.

You have to understand that the film wasn't exactly a roaring success upon release, since producers saw that people likely preferred escapism more so than gritty or bleak realism movies. This New Wave wasn't exactly long for the world, starting with stuff like Room at the Top (1959) and ending with this film and Billy Liar (1963), all with their varying levels of "kitchen-sink realism". Of course, the British New Wave just happened to come around in the time of "Angry young men" era of playwrighting (well, sort of, since that term was coined to promote John Osborne's 1956 play Look Back in Anger). The movie is adapted from the 1960 novel of the same name, with its author David Storey (generally considered one of the writers in the "Angry young men" group) serving as screenwriter. Storey was a former rugby player before he became a novelist and playwright (incidentally, Harris was also a rugby union player in his native Ireland). Consider it like this: "kitchen sink realism" might not have rocked all of British cinema, but it did influence future directors over the next couple of decades, most notably with Ken Loach. The movie is essentially the story of a blunt instrument more than of a man. We are talking of someone who tries to express feelings with sensitivity yet can only respond with a punch for anything. It doesn't compromise at any point in its 134-minute run-time because anything else would seem like a great lie, particularly since it wants to capture what it means to see such raw emotion pour out on screen, whether on or off the rugby pitch (being familiar with football before seeing rugby being played is interesting though). It captures such a unique dynamic between Harris and Roberts, one that teeters between stormy and clumsy when it comes to the idea of togetherness. Harris (who in later life stated once that he would trade all his accolades to play with a senior team back home in Ireland) fits the bill for everything that Anderson wants from him in terms of a brute that is always fascinating to view in his attempts in bravado or even when he is clenched when singing in public (it is easy to see why he moved from supporting roles to star with this performance). He tries to move in romance like he does on the pitch in terms of force, if only because the pitch is the only place where he is in control of himself (working class or not, this is something one can see quite clear). Roberts and her balance between melancholy and abrasive when one sees her on screen against Harris, one made quite clear in the dinner scene when it comes to seeing just who they are in public. Badel and the other castmates are fairly effective in their contrast to the main two, if only because one isn't watching a movie bound to only to the rugby pitch or bound to sentimentality (Hartnell is the warmest of the folks, and it was this role that helped cast him for his most famous role in Doctor Who). The editing by Peter Taylor and cinematography by Denys Coop help in making such a starkly effective film come through in all the layers required, one that is bleak but always on the level in worthwhile entertainment. Dour or not, the best thing that can be said for this film is that it has managed to endure so well for itself in how it doesn't flinch at looking within misery that makes a winning feature film after a half century.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Putney Swope (1969).

I Bury the Living.

Review #1791: I Bury the Living.

Cast: 

Richard Boone (Robert Kraft), Theodore Bikel (Andy McKee), Peggy Maurer (Ann Craig), Howard Smith (George Kraft), Herbert Anderson (Jess Jessup), and Robert Osterloh (Lt. Clayborne) Directed by Albert Band.

Review: 

With new directors, sometimes you have to look back into the realm of B-movies to find people to feature, or at the very least one behind films that slipped through the cracks. So, here we are with a film directed by Albert Band. Technically, there are some interesting things to say about the Band family, in that he was the son of Max Band, a landscape artist born in Lithuania (he lived in France for most of his life, which is where Albert was born). Band had two children that became involved with film: Charles became a horror filmmaker and Richard became a music composer. At any rate, Albert became interested in film from a young age (when the Bands moved to the States before France became occupied, they lived in California). He would be tasked to help write the film adaptation for The Red Badge of Courage (1951), doing so with John Huston. Band would be given his chance to direct with The Young Guns (1956), a Western. While he never exactly became a household name, Band was a solid contributor to B-movie cinema for years in directing and producing, whether that meant films like Troll (1986, producer) or other various efforts (which even included work with his brother Charles).

The movie was shot in nine days in a cemetery. Honestly, there is quite a crisp movie to watch here, even if the title (originally referred to as "The Killer on the Wall" before United Artists changed it) is considerably misleading. Nobody is actually buried alive, for one thing. Well, the plot is quite simple, really. A new member of a committee is tasked to manage a cemetery by obligation, and his office just happens to have a wall-map of the cemetery with white pins for plots that are bought but not used and black pins for the dead and buried. Accidents in putting the wrong pins make him think that he has the problem of marking folks for death, and it is attempts by board members to dissuade him from his belief that make things worse (in other words, he isn't "burying" the living, he just happens to be putting pins in people's spots that see them die). Of course, there also happens to be a superstitious Scotsman that works at the cemetery, too. Louis A. Garfinkle wrote the film while also producing it with Band, and the two worked on five films together (Garfinkle is likely best known for his help in developing a computer screenwriting system called Collaborator along with co-writing The Deer Hunter). Garfinkle's script seems like the kind of material familiar with stuff such as The Twilight Zone (although this film came out one year earlier), which means one might find eerie fascination with the ideas presented here. The lighting also certainly helps here (not just being a budget dodge), since it contributes to the growing mood of fear and weirdness presented in a film with limited sets and consistent understated acting. In that sense, one could almost see this as an under-looked gem, one that benefits from Boone (perhaps best known for Have Gun - Will Travel, which premiered the previous year), who moves through the material with icy curiosity that doesn't quiver when faced with looming morbid stuff. Bikel (actor, folk singer, musician, composer) might be a bit clouded under all the age makeup, but he isn't distracting to the point of irritation, as he pulls off an interesting contrast to Boone in offbeat nature. The rest are the usual skeptic type for weirdness (i.e. folks needed to look dull before they could get roped off). The growing sense of losing oneself is the best part of the film, because the climax is a complete letdown, doing a bait and switch that tries to cut off the mystery with rationality. Sure, it might have fit when it comes to trying to make money with the audience, but a bait and switch is still a bait and switch. As a horror movie, it is completely average, but it at least stands out enough in its average qualities to make it worth a curiosity over the attempts at building horror within simple things (a cheap set, reliable actors, Gerald Fried's music, take your pick). It was interesting enough to have praise lent to it by horror writer Stephen King, no less. If that can't sway you, nothing could. As a whole, Albert Band had a lengthy career of film that one could only dream to have for themselves or for their children, regardless of quality, you might say.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: This Sporting Life (1963)

Park Row.

Review #1790: Park Row.

Cast: 

Gene Evans (Phineas Mitchell), Mary Welch (Charity Hackett), Bela Kovacs (Ottmar Mergenthaler), Herbert Heyes (Josiah Davenport), Tina Pine (Jenny O'Rourke), George O'Hanlon (Steve Brodie), J. M. Kerrigan (Dan O'Rourke), Forrest Taylor (Charles A. Leach), Don Orlando (Mr. Angelo), Neyle Morrow (Thomas Guest), Dick Elliott (Jeff Hudson), Stuart Randall (Mr. Spiro), and Dee Pollock (Rusty) Written, Produced and Directed by Samuel Fuller.

Review: 

"Film is like a battleground ... Love, hate, action, violence, death. In one word, emotion!"

Generally, maverick directors are an interesting breed to consider when it comes to film. Samuel Fuller is no different, even if he had the interesting quirk of directing both studio features and independent features. Born in Massachusetts but later raised in New York, his first job was a copyboy of the New York Journal, doing so at the age of thirteen. He eventually moved to become a crime reporter for the San Diego Sun. He took up writing in the 1930s: Hats Off (1936) was his first screenwriting credit (he co-wrote it with a handful of writers). One of his novels, The Dark Page (written in 1944) was even adapted into a film in Scandal Sheet years later. He served in World War II for the United States Army in the U.S. Army’s 1st Infantry Division that saw him fight in various countries and saw him awarded with the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, and the Purple Heart. He directed his first film with I Shot Jesse James (1949) at the age of 37. Fuller's films may not have always enjoyed success, but he did receive considerable attention from countries abroad (particularly in France), and he appeared in a handful of films from other directors. He made over two dozen feature films in a career that spanned four decades, for which he did a variety of genres that ranged from war dramas to Westerns to thrillers (studio-based and independent), with notable films such as The Steel Helmet (1951), The Naked Kiss (1964), The Big Red One (1980), and White Dog (1982).

Well, there are some interesting historical tidbits one can find through this film. For one, Park Row refers to the variety of newspapers in the late 19th century that were located in New York City near City Hall, such as The New York Times. Later, newspapers would have early skyscrapers built as headquarters, and newspapers would stay around there until the 20th century. People from history are utilized here in the bridge jumper Steve Brodie (believed to have jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge) along with Ottmar Mergenthaler, inventor of the Linotype machine. A newspaper (New York World, published by Joseph Pulitzer) did indeed help fund the Statue of Liberty (which had begun fundraising in 1882 but did not start construction until 1885), in that it helped raise funds for the pedestal (which had started in 1882) that helped keep the statue in New York that published the names of the contributors in the paper. Park Row was the fifth feature film for Fuller, and he funded it entirely on his own, as one might expect from someone making a clear passion project. In fact, Fuller later stated that this was his favorite film of his. Of course, the film did not do well with audiences, suffering from a lack of big-name stars or even a gimmick to attract enough interest to earn Fuller his money back (dedicating it to the nation's papers did do some publicity, but not quite enough). He persisted in making this an independent feature (as opposed to making at 20th Century Fox, where he had made some of his first few films) as his studio employer suggested making it in color or even as a musical. So, for $200,000 (give or take) and sixteen days to shoot, Fuller did it himself, with most of the budget going to making a replica of the famed Park Row. As a whole, it is a decent movie, one that certainly has pulpy filming methods utilized exactly to what Fuller wants in efficient moviemaking that is meant to pull a useful punch for the craft of news making that succeeds in most of its goals. Granted, its ties to history are a bit fast and loose, but it is the enthusiasm that pulls through more than anything, one that prevents the movie from falling into the trap of becoming history hokum or murky sentimentality. 

Evans first attracted the interest of Fuller he was casting for The Steel Helmet (1950); Fuller threw a rifle at him, and Evans responded by inspecting it like a soldier, which convinced Fuller to want him for the lead role no matter what (which despite demands by producers for others was allowed). He apparently lost over forty pounds to do the film. He certainly seems right for the role, in that he fits the pace of the film with harsh determination. He seems like the kind of hero that Fuller would love to be - one who fights for truth in both print and his fists, for which one will likely appreciate. This was the first and only film appearance of Welch, who was primarily a stage and television actress before her sudden death in 1958. Fuller later described her in his autobiography as "beautiful, self-possessed woman with an inner strength that shone through her personality." He seems apt in his statement, in that she does pretty well with a steely role that eventually shows layers in those sequences paired with Evans, which is interesting. Heyes is the "elder" character, and he does what is needed in a role that could have screamed of pap (such as say, the scene where two characters are reading his "obituary", for example). At any rate, there is enough present in 83 minutes when it comes to its handful of interesting sequences that keep its message of truth on level, whether involving the assembling of the fictional newspaper to be featured in the film or when it comes to scenes with a bit more punch to them (the sequence where Evans punches a man who did a terrible crime to the paper in front of two statues is the showstopper). By the time one gets to the end (one with predictability that you could see coming for a passion project that doesn't look like a depressing time), learning a bit of history within a movie made fast and cheap with dependable character actors and a suitable presence behind the camera results in a decent movie. Whether one sees it as their first Fuller experience or not, Park Row makes a serviceable impression seventy years later.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: I Bury the Living (1958).

Rome, Open City.

Review #1789: Rome, Open City.

Cast: 

Aldo Fabrizi (Don Pietro Pellegrini), Anna Magnani (Pina), Marcello Pagliero [dubbed by Lauro Gazzolo] (Giorgio Manfredi), Vito Annichiarico [dubbed by Ferruccio Amendola] (Piccolo Marcello), Nando Bruno (Agostino the Sexton), Harry Feist [dubbed by Giulio Panicali] (Major Bergmann), Giovanna Galletti [dubbed by Roswita Schmidt] (Ingrid), Francesco Grandjacquet [dubbed by Gualtiero De Angelis] (Francesco), Eduardo Passarelli (Neighborhood Police Sergeant), Maria Michi (Marina Mari), Carla Rovere [dubbed by Rosetta Calavetta] (Lauretta), Carlo Sindici (Police Commissioner), Joop van Hulzen (Captain Hartmann), and Ákos Tolnay (Austrian Deserter) Directed by Roberto Rossellini.

Review: 

"I do not want to make beautiful films, I want to make useful films."

It is hard to mention the noted filmmakers of Italy and not include Roberto Rossellini. He, alongside filmmakers such as Vittorio De Sica and Luchino Visconti, wanted to make films that took the camera into the street for Italians, whether that meant using discarded film stock to help with filming or with guerilla-style filmmaking that aimed for open-air cinema (one that would aim against the perceived glossy filmmaking that was liked by the previous regime that ruled Italy). Of course, Rossellini was born into cinema, since his father opened the first cinema for Italy. He started directing with short films starting in 1935 before he was given the reigns to try and direct with The White Ship [La Nave Bianca] (1941), although he was not credited (he made two further films in Italy when it was under fascist rule). At any rate, Rome, Open City would be his first prominent film, and Paisan (1946) and Germany Year Zero (1948) are considered his second and third parts of his "Neorealist Trilogy". 

Various people contributed to the writing of the film: Sergio Amidei (both screenplay and story), Federico Fellini (screenplay), Rossellini (screenplay and additional material), and Alberto Consiglio (additional material), with numerous people serving as inspiration in some way or form (such as Teresa Gullace and Don Morosini). I'm sure we folks know about the Nazi occupation of the country and how it is covered here in the film, since open city refers to a settlement where all defensive efforts of a city are abandoned right as a city is going to be captured (essentially to avoid a city being destroyed by the military). What a marvelous 103-minute movie we have here. It strings together a narrative of harrowing realism that shocks its viewer without serving as exploitation meant to milk false notes of emotion. In essence: it is the film that helped spark a new movement for filmmaking that achieved everything it wanted without failure in style and execution. A mix of familiar (to Italian audiences) actors, voice actors (since this film was shot without sound) and amateurs (such as actual German POWs as extras) are all present here in a film that works well in delivering startling rhetoric in destiny and form that makes an interesting melodrama distinct from previous incarnations (granted, future "neorealist" films wouldn't exactly have as many melodramatic aspects, but innovation and variety is its own thing). Fabrizi is the shining star here, one that is quite sobering and interesting to view through the eyes of staid divinity, one that sells the closing scene with all of the quiet punch needed. Magnani (likely the one who benefitted the most as an actor from this film) does her part in soulful grace that belays the usual expectation in a melodrama for overt qualities and instead makes it something rawer and fitting, one that contributes the most to the one key shocking scene in the film: a shooting on a street corner in front of onlookers. The rest of the cast is a mix of dubbing and other aspects that nevertheless sell the film for what is needed in striking strength, whether that involves Pagliero or Feist or Galletti. As a whole, it shouldn't be surprising that this has endured for over 75 years as a model of striking drama and realism that touched a chord with audiences for all the right reasons, one that has a light that still burns bright today in carrying the torch of neorealism for cinema.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Park Row (1952)

On an unrelated note, today is the start of the NFL playoffs. I'll keep it short and simple: Go Bills.

Henry V (1944).

Review #1788: Henry V.

Cast: 

Laurence Olivier (King Henry V of England), Renée Asherson (Princess Katherine), Robert Newton (Ancient Pistol), Leslie Banks (the Chorus), Felix Aylmer (the Archbishop of Canterbury), Robert Helpmann (the Bishop of Ely), Vernon Greeves (The English Herald), Gerald Case (the Earl of Westmoreland), Griffith Jones (the Earl of Salisbury), Morland Graham (Sir Thomas Erpingham), Nicholas Hannen (the Duke of Exeter), Michael Warre (the Duke of Gloucester), Ralph Truman (Mountjoy, The French Herald), Ernest Thesiger (Duke of Berri, French Ambassador), Frederick Cooper (Corporal Nym), Roy Emerton (Lieutenant Bardolph), Freda Jackson (Mistress Quickly), George Cole (the Boy), George Robey (Sir John Falstaff), Harcourt Williams (King Charles VI of France), Russell Thorndike (the Duke of Bourbon), Leo Genn (The Constable of France), Francis Lister (the Duke of Orleans), Max Adrian (The Dauphin), Jonathan Field (The French Messenger), Esmond Knight (Fluellen, Welsh Captain in the English Army), Michael Shepley (Gower, Captain in the English Army), John Laurie (Jamy, Scottish Captain in the English Army), and Niall MacGinnis (MacMorris, Irish Captain in the English Army) Directed by Laurence Olivier.

Review: 

Admittedly, covering a war-time effort is an interesting story in talking about a film. Of course, we are talking about the directorial debut of one Laurence Olivier, who did five overall theatrical productions to go along with his more famous vocation as an actor. As one might expect, he started in the stage, specifically debuting as an actor for the All Saints Choir School at the age of nine. He dabbled in acting on numerous occasions as a growing child, and it was the encouragement of his father that led him to do the profession. He studied at the Central School of Dramatic Art before starting his professional line of work in theater in 1926 (doing so before he was even twenty). He added films to his line of work in 1930, but it wasn't until Wuthering Heights (1939) that he truly received international notice. He showed dedication to any craft he desired to do, whether as an actor or in the Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm when World War II approached. He took on theater operating afterwards, which included directing/starring in Shakespearian roles. We are also talking about the first adaptation of a William Shakespeare work that received wide-spread acclaim. Olivier was asked by BBC TV director Dalas Bower (a member of the Ministry of Information) if he could do a rendition of Henry V (written by William Shakespeare roughly around 1599) for film as part of boosting the morale of the public. Olivier had starred in As You Like It (1936), but he felt that it was a considerable challenge to make a film of a Shakespeare work (specifically with the Hollywood angle with directing actors for certain scenes with Shakespeare dialogue - that film along with A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935) and Romeo and Juliet (1936) were each considered flops). At any rate, Olivier stated that it was William Wyler who inspired him to direct the film himself, which would utilize England's lone Technicolor camera at the time (along with filming in Ireland for the battle and England studios...for the rest). Olivier received two of the four Academy Awards (the film was released in America in 1946), and he was rewarded with an Honorary Academy Award for his efforts in bringing the film to the screen. His next effort in Hamlet (1948) would be the first non-American film to win Best Picture and earn Olivier an Academy Award victory for acting (and producing). The next big effort to do the play into a film would not be done until 1989 by Kenneth Branagh, which received notice in its own right (as it contrasts this film with its own presentation of the material that was described as more realistic).

Certain aspects of the play were omitted, mostly in its presentation of the title character (who in one sequence in the play hanged a friend for crimes committed against the French); Olivier, alongside Dallas Bower and Alan Dent, did un-credited work in the writing in bringing Shakespeare's words to the screen. With its lavish sense of color and framing, it likely isn't a surprise that the film (eventually) was a noted international hit with audiences (one that would see the presentation of French royalty in this film as akin to certain current threats of the time), one that was set in both 1415-1420 and 1600, as it is presented as "THE Chronicle History of KING HENRY THE FIFTH with his battle fought at Agincourt in France BY Will Shakespeare" by a Chorus that tells its audience to let imaginary forces work to picture the production. It is all the things one might expect from 137 minutes of classic British cinema, warts and all. It is efficient in the ways intended with stirring passion for its subject matter that makes for a mostly grabbing effort from folks clearly interested in having Shakespeare resonate on the screen. Regardless of where it ranks in British cinema, it has a key place in entertainment value for its country. It is spectacle (with sweeping William Walton music) that grows on you, pure and simple. Olivier obviously was ready to direct a major motion picture along with act as its star, and he does so with confidence that builds through the film with brimming interest. He acts to the screen with the right timing that works for theatrical sensibility (i.e. it doesn't seem molded for only a stage), one with relentless drive that makes the whole experience (such as the St. Crispin Day speech) worth it. The rest of the cast have their own varying levels of presence, most notably with Leslie Banks as the Chorus or with the comic relief. As a whole, it is medieval pageantry that does what it is intended to in stoking the war effort that is both spectacle and curiosity without becoming dated or a Shakespearian misstep, acting dignified without becoming obstinate. It serves as a worthy debut for its actor/director/producer in all the ways, for what it is worth.

Next Time: Rome, Open City.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

My Man Godfrey.

Review #1787: My Man Godfrey.

Cast: 

William Powell (Godfrey), Carole Lombard (Irene Bullock), Alice Brady (Angelica Bullock), Gail Patrick (Cornelia Bullock), Jean Dixon (Molly), Eugene Pallette (Alexander Bullock), Alan Mowbray (Tommy Gray), Mischa Auer (Carlo), and Pat Flaherty (Mike Flaherty) Directed by Gregory La Cava.

Review: 

Admittedly, this film had been on the waitlist for quite a bit of time. The 1930s were an interesting time to see sound comedies make their way to the big screen with various stars and directors adapting (or not) to growing demands set by an audience that had plenty of interest in having a good time at the theater (of course, there was still room for a few little timely references of the day, but you get the idea). At any rate, it is also a decade that deserves far more coverage besides the usual classics; of course, this film is in of itself considered a worthy classic, considering that it features William Powell and Carole Lombard at their pinnacle in stature to go with a seasoned director with Gregory La Cava (he had agreed to do the film with Powell...and Constance Bennett). Born in 1892, the Pennsylvania native had started his adulthood in animation studios beginning in 1913; in 1922, he moved to Hollywood to do features (specifically comedies, shorts and features). By the time La Cava directed his final film in 1948, he had done over a hundred directorial efforts (with over thirty features), and he had seen five of his films receive notice with Academy Award nominations (with this being one of them); he died at the age of 59 in 1952.

The film is adapted from the 1935 novel 1101 Park Avenue by Eric Hatch. Hatch and Morrie Ryskind wrote the screenplay while Zoë Akins and Robert Presnell Sr served as contributors. As a screwball comedy, it proves quite efficient in its 94-minute run-time with a biting edge and energy from its main actors that makes for a fairly dignified time (perhaps it shouldn't be surprised that a remake would follow in 1957 alongside a Broadway production in 1985). There have been quite a few butler movies over the years, and this one does well with examining its quirky characters and situations without turning into outright farce. It is Powell that draws the most curiosity, in part because of how he manages to handle the screwball aspects with apparent clarity that has good timing and dignity. Of course, Lombard (cast at the request of Powell, who were actually married for a time) is right there to match against him with plenty of grace and charm that draws in her share of laughs, which is generally spent with Powell for interesting moments that all start with trying to one-up a scavenger hunter. Patrick makes a worthy snob to the antics, adept in bite that matches against the two leads well enough. Brady, a veteran actress of the silent and sound eras (who had taken a ten-year break from films to do stage in 1923), makes for a quirky figure among the others, doting but offbeat in all the right ways. Pallette was a noted character presence for hundreds of films in three decades, and he certainly engages well as the straight man to everybody with that distinct voice and timing. The sequence in the first half where Powell is subjected to questions as the "forgotten man" that are closed with him making fun of then is probably the most interesting moment of the film in bite, although there are quite a few more things one could highlight (such as the first scene with him with Pallette and the others together). It has a capable energy to its screwy elements that for the most part sticks the landing by the time it reaches the inevitable closing. The weird status in the public domain (where the film copyright accidentally was left to lapse but the book copyright did not) might make it a useful curiosity to seek out as well, and one will surely be rewarded by what they see here. La Cava and company made a fine film with enough amusement that serves well for itself 85 years later.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Henry V (1944).

The Goddess.

Review #1786: The Goddess.

Cast: 

Ruan Lingyu (The "Goddess"), Zhang Zhizhi ("Boss" Zhang), Lai Hang (The Son), and Li Junpan (The Principal) Written and Directed by Wu Yonggang.

Review: 

"When I first set out to write about the goddesses, I wished to show more of their real lives, but circumstances would not permit me to do so."

Undoubtedly, there are quite a few stories to feature in the cinema of China (one that saw its first film made there in 1905), particularly with its golden age, for which the 1930s is generally considered the prime era. Silent and sound films both came out in this era, and it was the "progressive" features of that era that attracted the most popularity, ones that emphasized class struggles (of course, the invasion of the country by Japan in 1937 would put an end into the era). Yonggang Wu was born in Shanghai in 1907. He had gotten into film as an art director and costume design before he made his first film with this one, which he also wrote the script for. He would work for over half a century in film for various companies in China such as the Lianhua Film Company. Of course, one can't forget about Ruan Lingyu, whose star performance here ended up being one of her defining roles. She had been an actress since 1927 (at the age of 17). In her eight years of acting, she became a well-noted film star in the country. However, this was also her penultimate film before her death at the age of 24, owing to struggles in her personal life that led to suicide (her funeral ended up being wildly covered by her fans, while Center Stage (1991) covered her life to the curious interest of many audiences in China and beyond).  

It is responsibility that drives the film when it comes to making a movie involving self-sacrifice. There had been quite a few movies involving a lead character striving to make a better life for their offspring (such as say, Stella Dallas, for example), but I'm sure most folks would agree that the movie does well in wringing interest in a subject matter that isn't exploited in the way one might see from a lesser filmmaker (or standards); of course, I'm sure most of you can guess that the title actually has a double meaning in both occupation and in protection. In other words: it doesn't go for straight pity, instead providing perspective on the suffering that comes in the life of both adult and child without needing to provide an easy solution (granted, it explores a bit of the social cause of said profession through one character, but still). At any rate, it has quite the emotional appeal to make its 85-minute run-time all the more worth seeing, owing to Lingyu first and foremost. She plays a tender hand to vulnerability with the right sense of timing and patience that does everything needed to generate a warm and loving presence that the film needs to shine with all the poignant moments needed, whether when paired against Zhang or with Lai. The film might not have any obvious answers to consider by its climax, but its gritty nature and general tone make a worthy winner. Ultimately, it isn't hard to see why this serves as one of the key achievements of Chinese cinema. In terms of silent films, it also ranks well pretty well on that scale, wrangling in a curious drama with a carefully confined cast with one shining light and an adept director making their first mark in cinema.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: My Man Godfrey (1936).

I Was Born, But...

Review #1785: I Was Born, But...

Cast: 

Tatsuo Saitō (Chichi), Tomio Aoki (Keiji, Younger Son), Mitsuko Yoshikawa (Haha, Yoshi's Wife), Hideo Sugawara (Ryoichi, Older Son), Takeshi Sakamoto (Juuyaku Iwasaki, Executive), Teruyo Hayami (Fujin, Iwasaki's Wife), Seiichi Kato (Kodomo, Taro), Shoichi Kofujita (Kozou, Delivery Boy), and Seiji Nishimura (Sensei, Teacher) Directed by Yasujirō Ozu.

Review: 

“I started to make a film about children and ended up with a film about grownups; while I had originally planned to make a fairly bright little story, it changed while I was working on it …. The company hadn’t thought it would turn out this way. They were so unsure of it that they delayed its release for two months.”

The discussion over vaunted Japanese directors could be a lengthy one, but Yasujirō Ozu most certainly would be included early in the notations, one with a distinct style that captured a wry sense of life in his features that took his own pace to filmmaking. It was a viewing of the movie Civilization (1916) that inspired the Tokyo native to become a director. Although he had studied to become a teacher, these plans would soon scuttle for ambition to do film. He started with the Shochiku Film Company in 1923. He eventually moved from assistant directing to director by 1927, and he directed his debut feature with Sword of Penitence that year, although it is now lost, which is also the case with a number of his silent films. Incidentally, he did not make a sound film until 1936 (years after sound had come to Japan), and color wouldn't be seen in his films until the late 1950s. Ozu would do fifty-four films (for which over sixty percent survive) before he died at the age of sixty in 1963. He is regarded by many to be one of the most influential directors in world cinema.

Sometimes you need a movie [released as Umarete wa mita keredo] about what it is to be a kid. Sure, there are quite a few movies about kids dealing with stuff such as bullies, but one also has to deal with the other aspect of a messy growing childhood: seeing what your role models in a different light than once seen before. Ozu helped write the film alongside Geibei Ibushiya and Akira Fushimi; he would later essentially remake the film with Good Morning (1959). When it comes to lives of salarymen, sometimes their hierarchy really is like one seen in the schoolyard, complete with one select jester. In other words: it may be a coming-of-age movie, but that doesn't mean the journey is going to be a simple one, regardless of how much slapstick is present. Aoki (already familiar with Ozu after working with him in 1929) and Sugawara make an interesting group of kids to follow, ones who play well to what Ozu wants to say about human nature, whether one lives in the suburbs or in the distance. The movie takes its time with the kids, making sure that the horseplay (i.e. teasing) goes where it needs to with playful energy that reverberates well for anyone with a childhood without serving as an earworm itself in a game of memory. It is quite an amusing film in its 90 minute runtime that also manages to make a worthy drama come out of the edges. The kids don't need to contort into cliches or sentimentality to make its story hit any more than it needs to (i.e. one with skipping, forgery, and finding a bigger kid to fight battles). Saito proves the correct adult presence to match with the two kids, wrapped in patience and timing that doesn't become wrapped in the trap that comes in select coming-of-age films that turn the adult into outright foolery. Of course, that comes with sequence involving the kids and adults coming together to see a print together of antics in the workplace, which sets up the climax soon enough. It reveals the nature of what comes with the workplace sometimes: you can be a fair-minded parent that tries to do well for their kid, but it could all come unloose if they don't see you as the powerful figure in front of others. Kids are probably more worried about eating sparrow's eggs to get bigger before they will worry about their parent's job, but the quirks of growing up mean one has to see certain things up close, messy or not. Disappointment is inevitable in life for children, but it is the journey in trying to see past it that matters most (the notation for what the kids want to be growing up certainly proves that, particularly with the time made). As a whole, this is quite an interesting film, one that is packed with wry charm that fits well within telling a story of useful wit for both children and adults.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp.

Review #1784: Tramp, Tramp, Tramp.

Cast: 

Harry Langdon (Harry), Joan Crawford (Betty Burton), Edwards Davis (John Burton), Tom Murray (Nick Kargas), Alec B. Francis (Amos Logan), Brooks Benedict (Taxi Driver), and Carlton Griffin (Roger Caldwell) Directed by Harry Edwards.

Review: 

You may be wondering just what is so important about a movie like this, considering its inauspicious title. Well, it really is more about the star more so than the director, although the star and director generally should each have their own share of credit for when a comedy does as well as it should. So here we are with Harry Langdon, a presence in vaudeville and film for nearly four decades. Sure, folks will probably remember Chaplin, Keaton & Lloyd first as the silent comedy icons, but Langdon had his own measure of importance as a silent icon, albeit with less feature films to consider. The Iowa native started work in shows and stock companies as a teenager in the turn of the 20th century. A run in vaudeville was later followed his most famous association: Mack Sennett and his studio, where his pantomime act being quite popular in various short films. It was his work with Harry Edwards and writers Frank Capra and Arthur Ripley that is best known today. He also did a series of features in the latter part of the 1920s, for which three are generally known: this one, The Strong Man (1926), and Long Pants (1927) - the middle film incidentally was the debut of Capra as director. Langdon soon decided after two films with Capra to direct his own films; his three silent efforts (one short) did not fare well (although none are available to see for oneself), and the impending transition to sound in Hollywood likely did not help either; Capra once stated Langdon did not know why his persona was funny, while a producer once described him as "not so funny articulate". While he never became a major star after the end of the silent era, he did keep busy with roles (supporting ones in features and shorts) alongside writing until his death in 1944 at the age of 60. As for Edwards, this was one of only two feature films that he directed, since he was more of a shorts director (doing 150 of them in a three-decade career), although his reputation was not the highest, as his work with the Three Stooges would suggest - they made two shorts together before the group requested that he never work with them again.

Langdon has a persona was certainly interesting for folks to try and pin down about his appeal, one that certainly had a clownish and unique sensibility (one whose attempts at drawing amusement from his little gestures certainly seems different from Keaton). In a sense, it was a persona that was a bit child-like and perhaps just offbeat enough to generate laughs for the time. Of course, one may be wondering just what this film is about. Well, it is about a guy trying to help his dad save his shoe store and woo a woman by winning a cross country foot race across the country with a $25,000 cash prize. Yep, that's about it. The movie, running at an hour in length, is basically composed of a bunch of vignettes involving a child-like pantomime in Langdon going around getting into weird situations, whether involving sheep, prison work, or a cyclone. While one can see pretty easily why his persona may not have been long for the cinema world past the silent era (in terms of the time and as star), one can still find a good deal to appreciate about the efforts of Langdon and Edwards in crafting an energetic and quirky feature with plenty of interesting amusing sequences that he does well with, moving around with confidence and a face ripe for gesture to make useful gags. Strangely enough, it also features Joan Crawford in an early role, one in the midst of her attempts to promote herself as a film star that would merit success soon enough; she doesn't have much to really do, but she at least matches fine with Langdon in those attempts at warm chemistry. The segment with the prison (where he switches tools a few times) is quite amusing, although the cyclone sequence at the end does seem to be the most effective chuckler among the group of vignettes designed to show our quirky hero. The film ends with him playing a baby (because the two leads fell in love, as was pretty much every silent comedy of that time), which is probably just as weird to consider as it is to write that sentence, although it is amusing. At any rate, no matter where one considers Langdon's place in terms of the noted silent comics of Hollywood, one can't deny that Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (1926) is a solid effort worth checking out.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: I Was Born, But... (1932)

Sky High (1922).

Review #1783: Sky High.

Cast: 

Tom Mix (Tom Newbury), J. Farrell MacDonald (Jim Frazer), Eva Novak (Estelle Halloway - his ward), Sid Jordan (Andrew Bates), William Buckley (Victor Castle), Adele Warner (Marguerite Castle), Wynn Mace (Henchman Patterson), and Pat Chrisman (Pasquale - Henchman) Written and Directed by Lynn Reynolds.

Review: 

In a way, this is exactly the time to spring a tale of a somewhat obscure director and the actor that starred in several of his films that became one of the first Western icons. Tom Mix was born in Pennsylvania in 1880, where he learned to ride horses from an early age. He worked a variety of jobs before breaking into film, one of which included working in a ranch with a touring Wild West show. Mix began his film career in 1909 with the Selig Polyscope Company, going from supporting actor to a star of his own in the near decade he worked with them. By 1917, he signed with William Fox's Fox Film Corporation, where he would make a string of Western films that consisted of shorts and feature-length (with Mix even directing some of the former category himself). His salary and the growing demand for imitation Westerns led to his departure from Fox in 1928; he appeared in fourteen films and one serial for two studios before his retirement in 1935. By this time, he had appeared in over 200 films, although a good deal of them is lost (a significant amount of Fox Film's silent film output was lost in a vault fire that occurred in 1937). What is remembered about Mix was the various programs that bore his name, which involved radio and comic books. Of course, one can't forget about the director behind the camera, even if time has perhaps made him obscure to audiences of the Western. Iowa native Lynn Reynolds directed Mix in nineteen films in a career that saw him direct 81 films (several shorts) from 1915 to 1927; he died that year, having shot himself at the age of 37 after a quarrel with his wife (about alleged infidelity on each side) led to him shooting himself.

The film we are talking about is a bit curious to consider. On one side, you have a government agent going around trying to find smugglers of Chinese immigrants (with "jewels and laces"!) and on the other side is the fact that this mostly takes place in the Grand Canyon that sees our hero rescue the ward of someone who just happens to also lead the gang. Of course, one can also see horse-riding and airplanes here, so we have a contemporary Western. Well, at least for the time, since it is now a century since this film was first released, although the stunt involving Mix and his plane is still quite interesting. As the successor to Western stars such as William S. Hart, one can see the interest audiences had in his flashy charm that showed grittiness within stunts while seeming capable in whatever story was thrown at him. In this case, a contemporary Western with shots of the Grand Canyon is a fair fit; Mix maintains interest in the film where a lesser actor might have made one go to sleep (or if the film really did try to build up chemistry with Novak beyond the contrivance levels it already was bubbling up to). Of course, MacDonald was a noted character presence for several years, and he makes a fair foil. Novak at least seems ready to have a go in cursory action, which makes up for the offbeat "ward" thing (hard to do when you look 25). The movie moves at a careful pace that seems just right for Reynolds to make solid work of, in that it has decent location shooting, a plot that makes semi-sense, and folks interested to make it happen with some enthusiasm. Granted, the movie isn't particularly great by any means, but one could do less to fill an hour than to deal with a movie like this. It may not be a seminal film of the silent era, but a century hasn't taken off its appeal when it comes to both Mix and Reynolds in the discussion of the evolving Western.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Tramp, Tramp, Tramp (1926).

Blind Husbands.

Review #1782: Blind Husbands.

Cast: 

Sam De Grasse (Dr. Robert Armstrong, The Husband), Francelia Billington (Margaret Armstrong, The Wife), Erich von Stroheim (Lt. Erich von Steuben), Gibson Gowland (Silent Sepp), Fay Holderness (The 'Vamp' Waitress), Ruby Kendrick (A Village Blossom), Valerie Germonprez (Honeymooner), Jack Perrin (Honeymooner), Richard Cummings (The Village Physician), Louis Fitzroy (The Village Priest), William De Vaull (Man from 'Home'), Jack Mathis (Man from 'Home'), and Percy Challenger (Man from 'Home') Directed by Erich von Stroheim.

Review:

Well, we've heard of a few films that had a director that also served as writer. But there are fewer that had a director-writer-producer, you must say. Nay, one that might be even harder to find is a director-writer-producer-star adapting his own book into a film. And yet here we are with Blind Husbands (1919), likely one of the most curious debuts of a Hollywood director for the next several years: Erich von Stroheim. He was a character like no other when it came to showmanship, particularly when it came to his journey to moviemaking. He was born in Austria to middle-class parents (operators of a millinery) as Erich Stroeheim. Not interested in the life of business or merchants, he first did volunteer work in military transport with horses and wagons, but he did not last long due to physicality (incidentally, his reported height was 5'6). In 1909, he sailed to the States and identified himself as Count Erich Oswald Hans Carl Maria von Stroheim und Nordenwall. Dubious nobility aside, he first worked as a gift wrapper before eventually moving to the West Coast, utilizing his knowledge with horses in a riding academy in California. He soon found himself in the company of D.W. Griffith, starting with bit parts in the mid 1910s before moving onto Prussian roles late in the era (earning the nickname "The Man You Love to Hate", incidentally). His knowledge of military detail helped get him work in assistant directing, and he soon found an in when it came to a desire to direct for himself, doing so with Universal (headed by Carl Laemmle) in an agreement to star, direct and write alongside designing the sets and editing (at $200 a week in total). Von Stroheim would be noted for his lavish attempts at filmmaking that hindered his overall output: he made a total of nine films, with a considerable amount modified by the studio (most notably with Greed), for which two are lost and two others are missing their original versions; his last directorial film was in 1933, but he persisted in acting until his death in 1957.

This was an adaptation of his novel The Pinnacle. The movie was a considerable success for the fledging studio, even if von Stroheim was probably more irritated at the fact that the movie title was changed (strange, considering the fact that pinnacle in geology refers to an isolated indivdual column of rock in the shape of a shaft/spire). It is a curious debut, an offbeat fantasy film for its main name that looms over everyone with an interesting perspective about lust through the eyes of the folks at the center of it. Consider the fact that there have been plenty of love triangle films over the years, and consider the perspective of the adulterer in the middle of the action. Sure, adultery is a terrible thing, but emotional loss of a spouse beforehand is also a terrible thing to witness. Vulnerability is a terrible thing to have, whether spent in the mountains with oneself or spent with a mix of diminsihing hope and a manipulator willing to take advantage of it. Who is surprised to see von Storheim as the big presence? He glistens in self-importance in a way that makes him both detestable and the prime curiosity that could almost make him draw pity. Of course, the shot of him with a a big grin (and distinct scar) along with a pipe and hands pointing at the camera certainly lend attention. He isn't exactly playing a Don Juan type figure of seduction, you see, instead playing it with flattery to go with impeccable dress sense that works to his advantage in terms of appeal for the time. Besides, sometimes it does help to be a villain to stick out in silent roles, since one might recognize De Grasse for his handful of adversarial roles more so than this film (of course, he was also an early Canadian presence in film for two decades). He does fine here, benign to what is needed in terms of charm when paired with Billington until he is needed to match with von Stroheim in the climax. This ended up being the most famous role for Billington, who acted in a variety of films that are fairly obscure despite her acting for a variety of studios. At any rate, she does well here, playing the vulnerability to the lingering camera with the right emphasis. By the time the film is closing its 91-minute run-time, it has managed to make a useful drama on the perils of desire and neglect that would surely compare with the middle-tier of a growing silent era that would only continue to drive interest in the next decade of the 1920s, with von Stroheim playing a distinct part in that regard.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Welcome to 2022! Year 12 of Movie Night starts here with a tremendous theme for the first month of the year - Movie Night: New Directors. Yes, you heard that right, Movie Night will feature a variety of directors not previously featured before from various eras and countries. 

Next Time: Sky High (1922).