Onibaba.

Review #2500: Onibaba.

Cast: 

Nobuko Otowa (Older Woman), Jitsuko Yoshimura (Younger Woman), Kei Satō (Hachi), Taiji Tonoyama (Ushi), and Jūkichi Uno (The masked Samurai warrior) Written and Directed by Kaneto Shindō.

Review: 

"Speaking about Onibaba in particular, my main historical interest focuses on ordinary people . . . their energy to carry themselves beyond the predicaments they encounter daily. I wish to describe the struggles of the so-called common people, which usually never appear in recorded history. This is why I made Onibaba. My mind was always on the commoners, not on the lords, politicians, or anyone of name and fame. I wanted to convey the lives of down-to-earth people who have to live like weeds."

I suppose it's something to be a filmmaker that made nearly 50 movies and lived to be 100. Born in Hiroshima, Kaneto Shindo stepped into films as a teenager when he joined the art section of the Shinko-Kinema studio in Tokyo in 1939. Inevitably, he was later drafted into the Japanese Army, where he served with a squad that saw all but him and five others killed in action. He returned from the war and worked at Shochiku as a script writer that saw him make connections with Kozaburo Yoshimura, who he formed an independent film company with (alongside actor Taiji Tonoyama) called Kindai Eiga Kyōkai. He directed his first film with Story of a Beloved Wife (1951) for Daiei Film, which was loosely based on his first marriage. That film featured Nobuko Otowa as the lead and she ended up starring in numerous Shindo movies. Likely one of his most noted early works came with Children of Hiroshima (1953), which saw him invited by the Japan Teachers Union that was admired enough to be shown at the Cannes Film Festival while ironically also being criticized by the Union for not going further in social criticism. Shindo made a variety of features from the dialogue-less The Baked Island (1960), horror movies such as Kuroneko (1968), biodramas such as The Life of Chikuzan (1977), comedy-dramas such as A Last Note (1995) and movies based on his war experiences such as Postcard (2010), which he did in his nineties; he died of natural causes in 2012 at the age of 100.

I will admit that there was an inkling of doing this film for the horror season last year. No, really. Some people might call it a stage drama or a period drama, and sure, some people can go with that, but it basically is a horror movie within the confines of masks and erotic nature (besides, horror deniers always want to call things "dramas" and "thrillers" with this or Les Diaboliques because they don't have guts). The horrors that lie within outcasts and the craven nature of trying to survive is one that seems timeless regardless of it being the 14th century or modern times. Shindo was inspired by a Shin Buddhist parable that he heard as a child (referred to as yome-odoshi-no men/niku-zuki-no-men), which involved a demon mask and, well, women. Apparently, the effects of the mask on who wears it was supposed to be symbolic of the disfigurement of the victims of the atomic bombings. But here we are with something where a group of scavengers must confront the most real thing of all: sex. It is such a dazzlingly haunting film to see the amoral qualities explode like ice, complete with having such a devastating look on the prairie and the people who live and die on it. It should be noted that the age difference between Otowa and Yoshimura was just 19 years. And yet each pull off tremendous performances, particularly with Otowa, who manages to evoke the feeling that arises from being one of flesh and blood with obvious desires even wrapped in the isolation of the reeds. Consider how she handles seeing the younger woman entwined with a newly arrived man in Satō (who plays it so well in smarmy charm) and clings on to a tree, for example. The 102 minutes rolls along with deliberate pacing that rewards those who like icy composition and even colder tension before the demon mask comes into play, which basically serves as a sort of curse for all involved. Admittedly, the ending is a bit quizzical, mainly because it just...ends. I suppose it makes sense to go with ambiguity that has a pit that might as well be purgatory for the lead characters that they just can't escape. As a horror drama, this is a pretty damn good one to let sift through you with a worthwhile chilly experience.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Yes, that's right, 2,500 reviews - you may remember Movie Night cracked 2,000 on April 20, 2023. Only so many reviews to go to 3,000.

Pale Flower.

Review #2394: Pale Flower.

Cast: 

Ryō Ikebe (Muraki), Mariko Kaga (Saeko), Takashi Fujiki (Yoh), Naoki Sugiura (Aikawa), Shinichiro Mikami (Reiji), Isao Sasaki (Jiro), Kôji Nakahara (Tamaki), Chisako Hara (Yazuka's Lover), Seiji Miyaguchi (Gang leader Funada), and Eijirô Tôno (Gang Leader Yasuoka) Directed by Masahiro Shinoda (#922 - Himiko)

Review: 

"Reality for its own sake is not what interests me. If my films had to be perfect reconstructions of reality, I would not make them. I begin with reality and see what higher idea comes out of it."

It does seem apt to turn back the clock sometimes and look back to directors not always referred to in the realms of world cinema. So yes, it seemed about time to cover a movie by Masahiro Shinoda. He was born in the city of Gifu and studied at Waseda University to study theater. He worked with Shochiku Studio in 1953 and honed his craft as an assistant director. He made his debut as a director with One-Way Ticket for Love in 1960; he would work with the studio for the first batch of his films. Shinoda worked on over two dozen movies until concluding with Spy Sorge (2003). Among the highlights listed for the director range from Assassination (1964), the original adaptation of the novel Silence in 1971, and Childhood Days (1990); Shinoda died just three months ago this year at the age of 94. With Pale Flower (known as Kawaita hana), the basis for the film was a novel that had been written by Shintaro Ishihara (believe it or not, he decided being a filmmaker wasn't for him and became quite the public politician, for better or worse); Shinoda and Masaru Baba co-wrote the screenplay, with the former writing the first half and the latter writing the second half. The co-producer for the movie was Shigeru Wakatsuki, who had produced The Human Condition trilogy of films [1959-1961] (by this measure, Shinoda was quoted in an interview for Criterion as saying that because of Wakatsuki's involvement and push, Pale Flower wasn't really a Shochiku project and thus this was the first film he learned about independent film production). Shinoda was quoted as saying that he made the film involving yakuza because that world apparently was the only place where the "Japanese ceremonial structure is sustained." Apparently, the methods utilized by Shinoda in emphasizing visuals and sound over dialogue irritated Baba enough that he complained to Shochiku about it (labeling it as "anarchistic", I'm not kidding) that led to several months of delay in releasing the movie (Shinoda later asserted that the film served as a model for the Toei line of yazuka movies), which apparently worked out for it fine anyway.

I suppose a good deal of noirs really do boil down to the face that certain people just cannot escape their destiny. We all are destined to reach the figurative desert to crash and burn at some point in our lives, some are just prepared to end sooner. What we have here is a moody and stark noir that is filled with plenty of moral ambiguity and bleak surroundings for such committed filmmaking. You hear the sights and feel the murky qualities that arise in the puddle of ceremonies and loyalty and, well, gambling. You get to feel what one does to try and capture the feeling of being alive within the snares of killing within the pointlessness of life (consider one of the early lines of the film talking about Tokyo and seeing people crammed into "tiny cage-like boxes" as such "strange animals"). You can feel the despair all around people who clearly aren't going to have a conventional type of end to their metaphorical roads of travel (as for the film itself, it was done in Yokohama). Apparently, Ikebe was curious why Shinoda wanted him to star in the movie, where he apparently was quoted as saying he was "a ham actor", but the director assured him that his type of presence (which for this film has a good deal of walking rather than long lines) would be right for the movie. Kaga just has that strange factor to match Ikebe in self-defeating grace and mystery, one who we can draw ourselves to without knowing that much about in actual fact. Not to simply just cite Shinoda again, but he (and Ishihara) stated that the dynamic between the two is similar to Tristan and Isolde rather than say, Romeo and Juliet. It goes along with a movie where you don't know what you're hearing is music or just sounds (such as say, tap-dancing) for a harsh film where actions are either irrational or just meant to be, if you think about it. Anything can be futile, such as going back to old loves or half-baked hits or so on. The last sequence with the two characters together in the build-up to the hit is particularly a resounding highlight to experience in its stark execution and procedure that might as well be the ending (don't get me wrong, the last sequence does seal up the futility and the ever-lasting hunger succinctly, but you get the idea). As a whole, Pale Flower is a committed bleak noir that is wonderfully shot and executed for a curious time for all involved, a tragedy with crystal-clear maneuverings worth looking into further. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Woman in the Dunes.

Review #2335: Woman in the Dunes.

Cast: 

Eiji Okada (Niki Junpei), Kyōko Kishida (the widow in the dunes), and Kōji Mitsui (the village elder) Directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara.

Review: 

Did you know the first Asian director to be nominated for an Academy Award was actually Hiroshi Teshigahara? Born in Chiyoda in Tokyo as the son of Sōfū Teshigahara (a founder of ikebana school Sōgetsu-ryū, which deals with flower arrangement), he went straight to working in film after graduating from the Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music, starting with documentaries and shorts before his first feature with Pitfall (1962), which was an adaptation of a television play by Abe. With this film, Abe wrote the film as based on his own novel of the same name, which had been published to considerable attention in 1960 (which you can interpret in places such as this). The movie had two different versions: a 147-minute version and a 124-minute trimming that was shown at the Cannes Film Festival. The movie was nominated for two Academy Awards: Best Foreign Language Film and Best Director (strangely, those nominations were a year apart from each other, which is how one loses to Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow one year and Robert Wise directing The Sound of Music in the next year); the next Asian to be nominated for Best Director wouldn't be for another 20 years. He ultimately directed a handful of films and documentaries (which included two further adaptations of Abe works) until 1992 while also keeping busy as an artist (such as ikebana and calligraphy). Teshigahara died in 2001 at the age of 74. 

Admittedly, calling the movie a peculiar experience is an understatement. You might as well call it a movie where insects lie in the sand that makes you feel each and every minute stuck in rawness. You feel every grain of sand and every bit of trapping in trauma that grinds away perhaps just as much as life grinds one to either work to survive or to survive to work. To live is to entrap oneself somewhere, and it really can come down to just big one chooses to dig for themselves in the guise of identity. Escape might as well just be a word that translates to "futile". The movie relies so much on the dynamic between Okada and Kishida in all of the conviction required in selling the illusion of what matters most of flight and punishment (okay, I'm paraphrasing from the sentence that precedes the book in there being no joy in flight without threats of punishment, but I think you get it). One craves meaning and will look anywhere to get that meaning, whether that involves passion drenched in sand or otherwise. Is it damnation or salvation that one experiences with a film all about form? At a certain point with these two, they might as well be thought of as one entity among themselves that is within a space of illogic logic (one wonders if they would be so lucky to experience such breathtaking visuals that occur here, naturally). Kishida sells that tragedy of living in the pit of all pits with efficiency.  Sure, one might call themselves free with what they do (or don't do) compared to others, but everyone is grinded up the same way in the end no matter how many paths they try to take for themselves. The music contributed by Tōru Takemitsu only lends further curiosity into how one could craft such an unnerving time for anyone to experience for themselves. An "avant garde" movie through and through, what you get here is a pretty intense movie. It hits most of the notes required for a movie you just have to experience in the realm of elusive claustrophobia that will surely stick in one's senses for time to come.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Well, I assume it is a good time to list an upcoming slate of reviews in the coming days: J. Lee Thompson's Cape Fear, Henri-Georges Clouzot's Wages of Fear and Alex Cox's Repo Man.

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte.

Review #2331: Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte.

Cast: 

Bette Davis (Charlotte Hollis), Olivia de Havilland (Miriam Deering), Joseph Cotten (Doctor Drew Bayliss), Agnes Moorehead (Velma Cruther), Cecil Kellaway (Harry Willis), Mary Astor (Jewel Mayhew), Victor Buono (Big Sam Hollis), Wesley Addy (Sheriff Luke Standish), William Campbell (Paul Merchand), and Bruce Dern (John Mayhew) Produced and Directed by Robert Aldrich (#105 - What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, #778 - The Longest Yard, #1014 - The Dirty Dozen, #1389 - Kiss Me Deadly)

Review: 

If you remember, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) was a hit with audiences, so naturally one might want to capture on that success and make a quick follow-up. Robert Aldrich decided to use an unpublished short story written by Henry Farrell called "What Ever Happened to Cousin Charlotte?". Lukas Heller, who had adapted Farrell's Baby Jane novel, would write the screenplay with Farrell (incidentally, Farrell wrote one other screenplay with What's the Matter with Helen? [1971]). Of course, he ran into a small problem: Joan Crawford and Bette Davis did not really want to work with each other again. Crawford (as cast in a role that wasn't exactly a role to chew on when compared to Davis, who had influenced the title change) wound up in the hospital with a respiratory ailment, but Aldrich was skeptical enough to actually hire a P.I. to track her. Incidentally, Crawford happened to star in a different type of psychological horror movie in 1964 with Strait-Jacket (both movies feature a person spooked by a memory of head-rolling death that may or may not be coming back to haunt them back home). At any rate, demands by the insurance company led him to either trash the movie or fire Crawford, for which Alrich went with the latter decision in August of 1964. After a handful of actresses rejected Aldrich's offers (such as Vivien Leigh), he eventually replaced her with a good friend of Davis with Olivia de Havilland. Others did return to be involved with the film from Jane such as editor Michael Luciano and composer Frank De Vol to go along with appearances by Victor Buono and Wesley Addy. While not quite as popular as the aforementioned Aldrich film, the movie was a relative success with audiences when it first came out in late 1964 and even received a few award nominations (in interviews, Aldrich liked making the movie just fine, although he had wished he could've spread out the time in making two similar films with Baby Jane and Charlotte for "my personal taste" while also arguing that Davis gave a better performance in the latter). In 1969, Aldrich produced What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice?, which while not related to Charlotte or Baby Jane is at least interesting for being about an aging old woman (played by Geraldine Page) dealing with murder and mayhem.

Creepy and creaky with a runtime at 133 minutes, this is the kind of movie that plays right at home for those who like drawn out thrillers (it reminds me to consider Les Diaboliques [1955], incidentally), albeit ones that play with bits of gore here and there. One particularly has some fun with the opening sequence (which features the ever-effective Buono to go along with a young Dern getting to be a part of, well, head-rolling) to draw out the scenarios of Southern Gothic mayhem that does eventually circle back to what it believes will be fun turns of the screw. Of course, it helps to have an actress like Davis at the helm to give the whole thing a sense of interested dignity in making this more than just goofy hysterics (hey, we don't judge anyway, particularly since  there are people who thought Baby Jane had some sort of camp aspect to it, as if scene-chewery isn't merely just part of just making some thrillers). Her entrapment in the past for the character is handled with the usual Davis standard of approaching the role with straight-to-the-point grace, managing to handle the tightrope of not merely being consumed or embarrassed by the macabre aspects. She plays the great creature that comes with a psyche that can only see things through the prism of the place that might as well be a mark on her soul, one that traps her soul that can be seen even when she is brandishing a shotgun (as seen early in the movie). de Havilland apparently wasn't too keen on making the movie but elected to do it because of the desire by Davis to work with her, which she did with relative success (after this, she appeared in five further films over the next 15 years to go along with a few television appearances prior to her death in 2020 at the age of 104). But she plays it as it if was a tight-rope to glitter in facades just as interesting as the one presented by what one would assume is just a nut (maybe it's a spoiler to say to beware of nice-presenting strangers), and it goes just as well with Cotten (incidentally, he also happened to play a key role in a movie about a woman possibly being on the nutty side with 1944's Gaslight), who has that conniving nicety to play the part one needs to play in triangular mayhem with composure to make it stick. Of course, Moorehead inspires a few quizzical in amusement that lends support to both the unravelling curiosity along with generally being warm to follow in terms of devotion with an accent to match (hey, the accents are fine for me). Of course, Kellaway is the civil one for enjoyment on the level of a usual character actor that could just inhabit a role with a few choice sentences. Undeniably, the movie is so worthwhile to see in all of the shadows and angles (as shot by Joseph Biroc), which is gorgeously appropriate when it comes to crafting a tawdry tale (complete with carefully composed angles for such a suitable set (which come to a head in one eerie scene) with game actors and at least one rug-pull moment that will surely make a worthy dark joke. Sure, the movie wraps its strings quite a few times around itself to make a knot, but the game is worth playing nonetheless. Aldrich was a craftsman director worth following along with in his attempts at chasing the audience to entertain with whatever he felt like doing at the time. As such, there is a few good moments in suspense to justify a watch for those who love seeing a few familiar actors play along in Gothic strangeness for lively execution that endures after six decades because of the commitment behind it.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

167 reviews later, here we are at yet another New Year's Eve. Sure, last year was a bit busier, but October 2024 was a month to be proud of regardless. Since 2011, we've managed to review a movie on December 31st a total of 17 times, with only 2015 and 2017 being exceptions, and it was nice to try a double-header once again to try and top how things went from last year.

As a treat, I'd like to close off Season 14 by showing off a few concept ideas I had come up with MS Paint before settling on the final format in what accompanied each review in 2024. We shall see what Season XV brings in 2025. It will be a short wait for the next review.

Strait-Jacket.

Review #2301: Strait-Jacket.

Cast: 

Joan Crawford (Lucy Harbin), Diane Baker (Carol Cutler), Leif Erickson (Bill Cutler), Howard St. John (Raymond Fields), John Anthony Hayes (Michael Fields), Rochelle Hudson (Emily Cutler), George Kennedy (Leo Krause), Edith Atwater (Mrs. Allison Fields), and Mitchell Cox (Dr. Anderson) Produced and Directed by William Castle (#369 - House on Haunted Hill (1959), #1071 - 13 Ghosts, #1418 - The Night Walker, #1703 - Undertow, #2261 - Macabre, #2300 - Homicidal)

Review: 

Sure, William Castle got to reap the benefits of making a movie that seemed a bit familiar to Psycho (1960), which you might remember was a loose adaptation of the famed Robert Bloch novel. Bloch had just finished his first screenplays with 1962's The Couch (where he worked off a story that had been devised by Blake Edwards and Owen Crump) and The Cabinet of Caligari (which had its own litany of troubles). So anyway, here is a movie written by Bloch directed by Castle. Oh, but this one has a gimmick far more noted than buzzers and skeletons: it has the same star from What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) in established stars dipping in suspense: Joan Crawford (cast after Joan Blondell, star of, well, not Baby Jane, dropped out somehow). Crawford, if you remember correctly, had a hell of a time with her final decade in filmmaking, which resulted in a good deal of horror movies that come with casting old familiar names, which saw her career close out in film with I Saw What You Did (1965, re-uniting with Castle), Berserk! (1967), and, well, Trog (1970). Crawford had enough influence to make sure that Anne Helm (apparently nervous being cast opposite Crawford) was quickly replaced with Baker before rewarding the production with commitment in promoting the film (this went with a plastic ax giveaway of course). As for Bloch and Castle, the two worked together once again in The Night Walker, which came out the same year involving a different accomplished actress in the main role (Barbara Stanwyck) in his first film away not distributed by Columbia Pictures after five years (his last seven films were either distributed by Universal or Paramount); Bloch would soon work in collaboration with Amicus Productions on a regular basis, most notably doing six film scripts from 1965 to 1972.

The body-count is five, although two come for the prologue that just gives you a quick rundown of one person's solution to adultery way back when: the ax. How could I resist? Sure, Crawford may have been stuck playing for scripts that weren't exactly Mildred Pierce, but there is never a moment where you find her looking like it is beneath her talent to give commitment (and yes that includes the scene where they give her a wig to make her look years younger, but would you really think Crawford was in her late fifties with this?). Audiences did flock to the film despite such devastating critiques that called the movie "inexcusable for its scenes of violence" (seriously, did people just watch horror movies with blinders back then). It's very amusing to see a movie past and future Academy Award winners (Crawford and Kennedy, respectively) mixed in with a PR vice president for Pepsi in Cox (Crawford was a board member, incidentally) for a movie that goofs around with axe-murdering (Homicidal had a stabbing early, this one has fake heads chopped off with a sound effect that would be fun to guess about). Crawford is enjoyably on point for a film that relies on commitment to really make it work in vulnerability among a returning member of society and in family. She never looks foolish or makes one think they are wasting their time in seeing her play horror, and Baker clearly is game to match with her in reasoned timing that goes along with the rest of the seasoned cast. I like the bubbling tension in just what is going on in what you expect for a movie about nuts and axs and what you end up with in passive sadness in adjustment, albeit one that is undoubtedly a Castle film through and through (hokey is not a mean word when you like it). Strangely enough, the one thing that bugs me about the film is the exact last scene of it all, because it really doesn't need a tight-winded explanation of what you saw (hey, let it play out), it could've just ended right as that twist crashes into you; apparently, it was Crawford who "suggested" that scene be in the film to end it all. As a whole, I think it actually is a neat film, managing to get a worthwhile performance from Crawford in gnashing the screen that makes for a capable Castle experience.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Special Announcement: For the second straight year, you get to enjoy a Halloween Triple-Threat Spectacular: The Cabin in the Woods goes first.

Nothing but a Man.

Review #2182: Nothing but a Man.

Cast: 

Ivan Dixon (Duff Anderson), Abbey Lincoln (Josie Dawson), Julius Harris (Will Anderson), Gloria Foster (Lee), Yaphet Kotto (Jocko), Leonard Parker (Frankie), Stanley Green (Reverend Dawson), Eugene Wood (Johnson), Helen Lounck (Effie Simms), Gertrude Jeannette (Mrs. Dawson), Tom Ligon (Teenager), and William Jordan (Teenager) Directed by Michael Roemer.

Review: 

"I recognized everything. It was immediate. I said, 'Oh, I know this. I know what this feels like.''

Independent films don't always get a fair rap. But history does lend some credit to those that really did make an effort to make something worthwhile. This film was released 60 years ago this year as a fairly naturalistic feature that only made a profit upon a re-release in the 1990s. The film was written by Michael Roemer and Robert M. Young, who also produced the film with Robert Rubin (Young served as cinematographer). Born into a Jewish family in Germany, he had been sent to a Bunce Court School (a boarding school) in England in 1939 by the Kindertransport. After time spent in Bunce Court School in England, he moved to the States in time to attend at college at Harvard University, where he graduated with a degree after doing a bit of filmmaking and also met Young, a good friend of his. Roemer worked with Louis de Rochemont for a number of years in production management along with making a handful of educational films. Young and Roemer got together first to do a documentary called Cortile Cascino that would've been shown on NBC in 1962. It was a film meant to show the lives of people living in a slum (Palermitano) in Palermo, Italy, but the footage was thought of as not suitable for TV. The basis for what became this film was shaped in part by Roemer's upbringing (such as his relationship with his father) along with travels spent with Young for a few months in the American South. The film was shot in New Jersey on a budget over $200,000 as a film where "the most powerful, useful political statement would be a human one" with a handful of music from the Motown label. Lincoln was a singer (with one appearance in film as herself in The Girl Can't Help It) and Harris was a male nurse making his film debut.  Roemer's next film in The Plot Against Harry (1969) couldn't find a distributor because of its perceived failure in comedy before 1989 saw attention given to it at the New York Film Festival. Roemer had shot other documentaries as well, such as Dying, which was from the point of view of those near death. As late as his eighties (Roemer still lives, now 96!), he was a professor at Yale. A television film of his in Haunted (1984) was re-released in theaters as Vengeance is Mine in 2022.

The heart of the film is the timeless quality that comes in hard-edged honesty for 95 minutes. It is a sensitive film that doesn't rely on easy piety or easy outs when it comes to the simple story of how the shadow of life under the grip of prejudice and pre-conceived ideas of what one seems to be can wreak havoc on trying to live at all. The illusion of being free is a hard one to see get stripped away from oneself, whether that involves that illusion of being free in their job or one's love having an illusion of freedom from nasty words or complications. In other words: life is hard, and it is going to stay hard regardless of if you have someone there with you or not, but you just have to face the wind and roll with whatever is there to blow against you. Dixon was evidently proud of his lead performance here (released the year before having a long-running role on Hogan's Heroes and becoming a director himself), and it is easy to see why. He has a smoldering honesty that commands the screen in a way that is easily recognizable for those who have ever experienced some kind of misfortune when it comes to perceptions or in a personal matter. He sees Lincoln and goes from thinking of her as one of just desire to of equals when it comes to not just being a background face in the crowd. His frustrations are our frustrations in a way that draws the viewer to think about within our lives when it comes to what one is and is not in the scheme of things (be it stubborn, proud, or otherwise). The sequence of him seeing his son toil as one away from his parent (and accompanying words of why one hasn't made more of the effort) makes it clear of what one has here in those vulnerabilities and hazards to think about. Lincoln is the tender one that makes a worthwhile pairing with Dixon in whirlwind curiosity and accompanying vulnerability. Harris is the key in shaping the film for such a carefully handled amount of time, a smoldering heap on the last legs of a type of person with unyielding tension that makes one wonder how one really could be that good in their first acting role that quickly.  (Dixon was the most experienced of the main cast, as Foster had her debut in 1964 with The Cool World and this). As a whole, the movie ends on its own terms for one's own imagination when it comes to what it means in the idea of feeling so free and where the road can take them. It plays well for now among curious viewers looking for indie films because it is a story we can all look to in tender natural amazement and smile in its imperfect dealing with a imperfect world.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Two Thousand Maniacs!

Review #2122: Two Thousand Maniacs!

Cast: 

William Kerwin (Tom White), Connie Mason (Terry Adams), Taalkeus Blank (Mayor Buckman), Ben Moore (Lester MacDonald), Gary Bakeman (Rufus Tate), Jerome Eden (John Miller), Shelby Livingston (Bea Miller), Michael Korb (David Wells), and Yvonne Gilbert (Beverly Wells) Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis (#752 - Blood Feast and #756 - Monster A-Go-Go)

Review: 

Okay, so it might seem weird that a filmmaker from Pittsburgh ended up making an exploitation film involving the South that might as well seem like a precursor to future southern-fried horror films in the next decade. Born in Pittsburgh but raised mostly in Chicago, Herschell Gordon Lewis actually had studied in journalism at Northwestern University before teaching communications at Mississippi State University. Of course, he was lured into working radio managing and subsequently in advertising. In the late 1950s, he worked as director on a couple of advertisements and eventually bought a share with the company he was making them for. He became a director in 1961 with exploitation feature Living Venus, which would lead to expanded fare of what some call "nude cuties". By 1963, Lewis and producing partner David F. Friedman wanted to tap into a market that was not declining like the nude market, and they landed upon blood and splatter with what became Blood Feast (1963), Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964) and Color Me Blood Red (1965) are considered a trilogy of sorts when it comes to the splatter film pioneers. He made a variety of films using his funds he made in advertising that covered a few topics for exploitation, such as birth control, or, well comedy splatter. After retiring for three decades in 1972, Lewis returned for two more films in the new millennium before his death in 2016 at age 90.

The Pleasant Valley Boys make an appearance in the film, because no film could make sense unless you have a banjo playing group here to give you a song that seems quite literal when they mean "The South Shall Rise Again". The plot was apparently influenced by the musical Brigadoon, which seems insane enough to make rational sense. If you've seen any film that plays on the stereotypes of traveling in the Deep South, well, here's one that leans in on bits of gore and goofy sadistic weirdos for the pile. Set in 1965 as a centennial "celebration" of a small Georgia town (remember what happened in 1865) is this odd little film. I actually kind of liked this film, probably because I found it amusing when it came to such a half-baked plot of revenge that could only come from the idea of having targets that aren't even that more sympathetic than the oddballs that show a variation of the loser flag (read: Confederate flag, and I say that as a Texan). It plays on prejudices with a useful underdog and, well, effects that had their standing point of credibility if one allows it for 1964. One might have a weird time figuring what is the best of the attempts at gore when it comes to unsettling thoughts about being wrapped up for death, and that probably falls to the one where a person is tied down while a dunk tank modified with a giant rock is right by them. Probably the standout is a man named Taalkeus "Talky" Blank, an Illinois stage actor who went by "Jeffrey Allen" in the features he made with Lewis because his lack of membership in the Screen Actors Guild. Lewis liked his Southern impersonation enough to use him for a handful of films. It's good ol' boy conniving stuff that works to the film's advantage, although Kerwin and Mason (familiar in a few other Lewis films) do just fine as the resident Northern underdogs. It's a strange film that goes on the cliché of weird dwellers that might just have a prejudice or bitterness up their sleeve to go with a favoring of gore that might have a familiarity with the viewer more than they like to admit. In that sense, Lewis has made a curious gory winner that attracts my approval to my pleasurable surprise.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next: Anaconda.

Kwaidan.

Review #1900: Kwaidan.

Cast: 

"The Black Hair" [Kurokami]: Michiyo Aratama (First Wife), Misako Watanabe (Second Wife), Rentarō Mikuni (Husband), Kenjiro Ishiyama (Father), and Ranko Akagi (Mother); "The Woman of the Snow" [Yuki-Onna]: Tatsuya Nakadai (Minokichi), Keiko Kishi (the Yuki-Onna), and Yūko Mochizuki (Minokichi's mother); "Hoichi the Earless" [Miminashi Hōichi no Hanashi]: Katsuo Nakamura (Hoichi), Tetsurō Tamba (Warrior), Takashi Shimura (Head priest), Yoichi Hayashi (Minamoto no Yoshitsune), Kazuo Kitamura (Taira no Tomomori), Yōsuke Kondō (Benkei); "In a Cup of Tea" [Chawan no naka]: Haruko Sugimura (Madame), Osamu Takizawa (Author / Narrator), Nakamura Ganjirō II (Publisher), Noboru Nakaya (Shikibu Heinai), Seiji Miyaguchi (Old man),Kei Satō (Ghost samurai) Directed by Masaki Kobayashi.

Review: 

"My main intention was to explore the juxtaposition between man's material nature and his spiritual nature, the realm of dream and aspiration. I wanted to create a drama which dealt directly with the spiritual importance of our lives. I also enjoyed conveying the sheer beauty of traditional Japan."

Admittedly, there aren't that many three-hour anthology films to go around. This seemed right just the right feature to do when it comes to talking about the 1960s and in talking about a new director as well. Masaki Kobayashi started his career a bit later than usual directors. He was 36 when he made his debut, having studied at Waseda University to study art before aspiring to work in film before being drafted by the Imperial Japanese Army in World War II. He returned from the war and worked as assistant director. His most noted features came because of his war experiences with The Human Condition trilogy (No Greater Love (1959), Road to Eternity (1959), A Soldier's Prayer (1961)). He directed twenty films in the span of 33 years before he died at the age of 80 in 1996. The book is based on Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things, a 1904 book by Lafcadio Hearn that was a collection of several ghost stories that were based off either old Japanese texts or experiences lived by the author (of course, there also is a section to close out the book that includes insect study by the author, where he connects them to Chinese and Japanese beliefs). Hearn was born on a Greek island before he eventually was raised in Ireland through a series of parental abandonments; when living with his aunt as a teenager, he had an accident that gave him both poor vision and the loss of his eye. He moved to the United States at 19 (being told to have good luck with $5) and worked in the newspaper business in both Cincinnati and New Orleans before moving abroad to work as a correspondent in the French West Indies before he finally found a true home in Japan, where he lived out the last fourteen years of his life (his exploits as a writer led to a museum alongside preservation of his residence in Matsue). The film uses the same spelling of a term that is actually known as Kaidan, since the old term is actually an archaic spelling of the term. Incidentally, there were versions of the film release that cut down the film to either 160 minutes or two hours, notably by cutting "The Woman of the Snow" when it came to release it in America, although nowadays you can find releases with it intact. It was filmed in TohoScope by cinematographer Yoshio Miyajima, who had worked with Kobayashi on the aforementioned Condition trilogy among others, and Toru Takemitsu (a mostly self-taught composer with numerous noted works in his time) provides the musical score, which results in a soothing and eerie and atmospheric film.

Sure, Kobayashi may state that he made a drama, but this is a horror movie through and through, one that looks at how people approach spirituality where the dead seem more alive than the living. Sometimes, you have to understand folklore beyond just the literal meaning of the words The movie is quite colorful for one that is also pretty mournful in its telling of ghost stories that work out for varying quality of elegance. The first tale in "The Black Hair" (roughly 36 minutes) is a decent one to start things off with, albeit one that relies on its narrator a bit much when compared to the next two stories. "The Woman of the Snow" (32 minutes) might be the most diverting of the stories when it comes to refreshing climaxes.  It is the most soulful of the works, which all go at their own pace to dwell in the macabre without needing to be outright spooky. "Hoichi the Earless" (74 minutes long) is the longest of the stories and probably the most poetic to focus on with pictorial beauty when it shows a ballad of a battle. Sure, the title might give you a clue about the character to follow, but it still makes for a suitable story in haunting elegance, right down to its climax. "In a Cup of Tea" (25 minutes) is a riff on what happens if a ghost story is "unfinished", to varying results. It probably is the lesser of all the stories told, mostly because it tries to play it both ways with the climax along with being the shortest of the stories despite its interesting premise (drinking one's soul in tea) that will either fall as challengingly abrupt or just an okay story. As a whole, it is the handling of folklore with reverence by Kobayashi that makes it a fascinating movie for those who have the time to spend with it.

The actors, tasked with a movie that dwells in quiet patience, do pretty well for what is needed. The Yuki-Onna is a spirit with many interpretations over the years, and Kishi makes a valuable presence in the story with haunting grace. Mikuni makes a suitable cad to go against Aratama and Watanabe in the art of desperation. Nakamura does well in holding his ballad together as a blind seer with worthy calmness. There is plenty of key highlights to think about, whether that involves a quieting climax of despair for the end of the first and second stories (each with a key realization) or how the third story manages to stay together for so long in eerie mystery. Even the fourth story, one with a bit of awareness about itself in offbeat sensibility, is still interesting to see play out to the true conclusion reached in where the spirits can take a person. It is a soothing movie that makes time seem to run as a state of mind, where illusions and reality swirl on their own pattern until all that remains is oblivion. As a whole, it is a great curiosity piece for those who wish to seek something a bit different from the usual anthology, one with conviction in its spirituality that achieves most what it sets to do in storytelling that would make an intriguing pick for the horror season.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The Patsy (1964).

Review #1710: The Patsy.

Cast: 

Jerry Lewis (Stanley Belt), Everett Sloane (Caryl Fergusson), Phil Harris (Chic Wymore), Keenan Wynn (Harry Silver), Peter Lorre (Morgan Heywood), John Carradine (Bruce Alden), Ina Balin (Ellen Betz), and The Four Step Brothers. Directed by Jerry Lewis (#963 - The Nutty Professor [1963] ,#1404 - The Bellboy)

Review: 

The working title of the film was Son of Bellboy, and I suppose it makes sense to do a loose connection with The Bellboy (1960), since each featured Lewis playing a bellboy named Stanley that got into hijinks. Of course, the previous film was in black & white while having Lewis speak minimally while this feature has quite an interesting main set filled with color (green carpeting, for example). At any rate, what we have here is a movie that dares to aim for amusement with a character that will occasionally bubble into that light of painful awkwardness without becoming fodder to grouse about. It just so happens to involve a patsy surrounded by yes men that might as well be still prevalent today with regards to carefully packaged entertainers fit for the masses (whether through television or video screen). Sure, times have changed in the past five decades when it comes how they come out onto our attention…think about it: in a time of influencers and products made for folks eager to consume product before next product, there is something interesting about seeing a movie where all the steps don't necessarily have to come together to make something people want to watch in public. I think in that regard it makes for a fairly decent movie, albeit one with a slightly less smooth hit-and-miss ratio of gags to time when compared to some of other films with Lewis, who also co-wrote the film with Bill Richmond (a frequent co-writer for films with Lewis as director, as Richmond, a musician-turned gagman, would work on seven of the twelve completed films); this was the fifth film that Lewis directed. But hey, if 101 minutes seem useful enough to go with a mix of guests with notable character presences, this will be right up your alley.

The toadies certainly make it count in pulling strings handily enough without over-reaching, although I am skewed positively because of my familiarity with Wynn, Lorre, and Carradine (even though the latter two basically are there to play yes-man and watcher, respectively). At any rate, this was the last film appearance for Lorre, who died five months before the release of the film along with the penultimate film appearance of Sloane. Of course, a film with a bit to say about show business has a few cameos (much as a star vehicle about Vegas just happens to have George Raft). They mostly come and go without seeming too ragged, at least when your list goes from Scatman Crothers to Hedda Hopper to Ed Sullivan - the middle cameo probably gets the most mileage, probably because of a silly hat that ties with artifice. I respect Lewis and his commitment to the bit when it comes to a character that isn't necessarily meant to be funny all the time but can still generate worthy curiosity without artifice (and no, it isnt just "being himself", it just means he plays his hand without standing to cliches). Balin plays okay as the straight toady that has some sensibility and makes a fair match for Lewis. The bit involving a makeshift tie, done without dialogue, is a fairly neat little sequence to help round the film down, clicking. The last gag is probably my favorite, since it takes down the last bit of artifice when it comes to making entertainment with awareness, and apparently it came about because Lewis couldn't think of a good ending. The film has touched of biting humor in poking at the star system within promoters and the very artifice of Hollywood without becoming a spiteful piece to shudder at. Folks familiar with the timing of Lewis in his execution of directing and acting will find it worthy for a look, and this also extends to those not as familiar with Lewis. Life goes on with or without a star or patsy to kick around, so enjoy as many pieces of entertainment with them, I suppose.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Night Walker.

Review #1418: The Night Walker.

Cast: 
Robert Taylor (Barry Morland), Barbara Stanwyck (Irene Trent), Judi Meredith (Joyce), Hayden Rorke (Howard Trent), Rochelle Hudson (Hilda), Marjorie Bennett (Manager), Jess Barker (Malone), Tetsu Komai (Gardener), and Lloyd Bochner (The Dream) Produced and Directed by William Castle (#369 - House on Haunted Hill, and #1071 - 13 Ghosts)

Review: 
"We all have a common interest: bigger and more horrible monsters--and I'm just the monster to bring them to you."

One cannot forget the master entertainer when they think about film, and there aren't many as capable in self-promotion and imagination as William Castle. He was an orphan by the age of 11, but he found inspiration to entertain audiences by seeing the play Dracula (1927-28), which featured Bela Lugosi. He found what he wanted to do in life from watching numerous performances: "to scare the pants off audiences." A meeting with Lugosi led to a recommendation for a position as assistant stage manager for the touring production, and he later dropped out of high school to do a variety of work on Broadway shows such as stage building. He performed his first great stunt of persuasion by convincing Orson Welles to lease out his theater in Connecticut (vacated in preparation for work on Citizen Kane), where Castle would do a play with German actress Ellen Schwanneke. However, regulations regarding actors speaking plays originally performed in their native country meant that Castle had to conjure up a play in German in only two days. This, combined with a telegram from Germany to invite her home to the country she left led to Castle promoting the actress as "The Girl Who Said No to Hitler", which proved successful. He soon found a job with Columbia Pictures, where he would work for a few years as bit player and dialogue director before being slated to direct in 1943. Although he is remembered for horror, he had started his career with The Chance of a Lifetime (1943, a drama), and he would also spring to doing Westerns and noirs, all being B-movies before he decided to shift focus to independent filmmaking for himself. Inspired by Les Diaboliques (1955, which Robert Bloch noted as his favorite horror film), he was inspired to do horror. which he would start doing with Macabre (1958). He was a master of self promotion and imagination, with gimmicks ranging from moviegoers being given a life insurance policy for $1,000 if they happened to die of fright because of the film they watched, vibrating motors that came from military surplus airplane wing de-icers being installed into some of the theater seats to buzz for a key moment with a supposed tingler. In a career of over 40 years, it is the films in the last fifteen years that are most remembered, some for their gimmicks (like 13 Ghosts, with Illusion-O) but some for their interesting qualities (such as House on Haunted Hill). His filmmaking helped inspire other filmmakers such as Alfred Hitchcock (noting the returns for violent B-movies by him) and John Waters (who described him as his idol).

The film was written by Robert Bloch, most known for his novel Psycho, which was adapted into the hit film of the same name that Castle had done his own take of in Homicidal (1961). The pairing of Taylor and Stanwyck seems planned by Castle as a play on the fact that they were married for twelve years. It would be the last film for Stanwyck in a career that had started in the 1920s in stage shows and Broadway before film stardom and eventual shifting to television that she did until her retirement in 1986 and her death four years later. She was cast when Joan Crawford (another classic actress/actor doing horror in the near end of their career in the 1960) declined due to her intent to star in Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964). She does a fair job in lending dignity to a film that has a careful touch of suspense that demands conviction and is accomplished without fail. Simply put, you care to follow this character in a film that grows a web of weirdness, betrayal, and deception that is done with careful control to make a solid 86 minute thriller. One should expect nothing less than something to drive some curiosity after a creeping voiceover from Paul Frees involving something about the nature of dreams that have some catchy Vic Mizzy music to dig into your head. Taylor does fine with matching up to growing tension in what is real and what isn't. Rorke, though not in the movie too much manages to make a fair impression of mania (particularly with the makeup for his eyes), while the others prove fine in bits, such as Bochner and his strange alluring presence to accompany the sometimes surreal nature of the film. This particularly proves true for its wedding sequence, involving a buildup to showing some mannequins as viewers. It finds a middle in suspense in its buildup to the climax that doesn't spring too many clichés nor do something completely out of left field for enjoyment. It makes for a pleasant experience with atmosphere and consistency expected from a Castle film that delivers most of what it wants to deliver to its audience without trouble.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul.

Review #1417: At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul.

Cast: 
José Mojica Marins (Zé do Caixão), Magda Mei (Terezinha), Nivaldo Lima (Antônio), Valéria Vasquez (Lenita), Ilídio Martins Simões (Dr. Rodolfo), and Eucaris Moraes (Velha Bruxa) Directed by José Mojica Marins.

Review:
"What is life? It is the beginning of death. What is death? It is the end of life! What is existence? It is the continuity of blood. What is blood? It is the reason to exist!"

There is no time but the present to cover a film from South America, particularly from its most populous country in Brazil, which has had a varying level of success with entertainment over numerous decades. It's easy to stand out as a film in a different country if you're the first in a genre. In this case, At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul [À Meia-Noite Levarei Sua Alma] was the first ever Brazilian horror film. It came from director-co-writer-star Jose Mojica Marins, who lived near a cinema that his family operated growing up. He made short films as a child while growing up inspired by the films he saw that came from other countries, becoming a fan of actors and directors such as Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, and Alfred Hitchcock, while also noting the expression in the eyes of Charlie Chaplin. By the time he was 18, he had formed his own film company and studio with Companhia Cinematografica Atlas. He made his debut as a director with Adventurer's Fate (1958), a Western. He would become known for his horror and drama films over a career that spanned three decades before a reprise with Embodiment of Evil (2008). Marins would do the role of (known in English-speaking countries as Coffin Joe) numerous times over four decades (for both film and on television), and three of them are considered to be a trilogy: this, This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse (1967), and Embodiment of Evil (2008, Marins' last film before his death in 2020).

He was inspired to do the character based on a nightmare he had about a figure that dragged him to a cemetery and left him in front of his headstone. His character was a clear contrast to the cultural sensibilities of the time in Brazil (a predominately Roman Catholic country), which are represented through actions such as eating meat on Good Friday as an open mocking of other's beliefs or through his actions to others in desire of a child to continue his blood. It is a film more popularly known in Brazil than abroad (Coffin Joe is sometimes referred to as "Brazil's National Boogeyman"), but there is definitely quite an cult appeal for something like this. Sure, plenty of people suffer his wrath through physical means, but it is the conviction that Marins holds in such a morbid character (with a big beard and long fingernails) with a clear method of madness that makes for a capable 84 minute tale of creeping chills. It achieves most of what it sets out to do with striking terror through a demented lens fitting of its main character that holds up in most ways now as compared to five decades ago with its sensibilities. It doesn't depend on big moments of gore but instead in those foreboding moments and images that drive curiosity mad, with everyone else being but a potential next person to terrorize in some way, where moods shift completely after he enters a room. On the whole, this is a fair experience of terror that oversteps its low budget to make a morbid pioneer for its country that retains some of its creeping power now more than ever.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

My Fair Lady.

Review #1416: My Fair Lady.

Cast: 
Audrey Hepburn (Eliza Doolittle), Rex Harrison (Professor Henry Higgins), Stanley Holloway (Alfred P. Doolittle), Wilfrid Hyde-White (Colonel Hugh Pickering), Gladys Cooper (Mrs. Higgins), Jeremy Brett (Freddy Eynsford-Hill), Theodore Bikel (Zoltan Karpathy), Mona Washbourne (Mrs. Pearce), Isobel Elsom (Mrs. Eynsford-Hill), and John Holland (The Butler) Directed by George Cukor (#479 - Travels with My Aunt, #974 - A Star is Born (1954), and #1355 - The Philadelphia Story)

Review:
"She is a truly romantic creature. She doesn't just profess good manners--she is really well mannered at all times. She is not driven in her career but she gives full value and she is never indifferent."

If you watch enough musicals, they may eventually seem all too alike from each other. However, if you encounter one with elegance and charm, it certainly will stick in your mind as one for the ages. In an age of musicals and big-scale productions, My Fair Lady certainly belongs in the discussion as one of those classic musical epics. It was adapted by Alan Jay Lerner from the stage musical of the same name that was done by him and Frederick Loewe in 1956 that was based on George Bernard Shaw's 1913 stage play Pygmalion (with one notable difference between the two being its ending, since Shaw strenuously argued against Eliza coming back to Higgins). The original Broadway and West End productions featured Harrison and Julie Andrews in the star roles (with the former winning a Tony Award for his performance), and there have been numerous revivals (with the most recent being in 2019) over the years. When it came time for Warner Brothers to do a film adaptation (after buying the rights to it for over $5 million), Jack L. Warner decided to personally oversee the production himself, and it was he who decided that the lead role was to be played by a star (in this case, Academy and Tony Award winner and fashion icon Audrey Hepburn), as opposed to Andrews. Even if Hepburn had rejected the part, it would have gone to another big star before Andrews (one named floated was apparently Elizabeth Taylor). Hepburn would have most of her vocals dubbed by Mami Nixon (vocal singer for films such as An Affair to Remember (1957) and West Side Story (1961)), however, despite training with a vocal coach and musical director Andre Previn before shooting (the same would be done for Brett by Bill Shirley). Harrison, famed English actor of stage and screen, would reprise his role (after rejections from Cary Grant and Peter O'Toole), doing so while having a wireless microphone on him to do his musical numbers (as opposed to pre-recording them, which he felt he could not do convincingly for his particular range), which was innovative for the time; Holloway and costume designer Cecil Beaton would also be retained for the film.

Made on a budget of over $17 million (with primary filming on soundstages, much to Lerner's disappointment), this is a film of tremendous style and passion, rumbling through 170 minutes with spirit from its main group of actors that make a ravishing experience. One finds plenty of interest in the numerous songs that are catchy and endearing. Regardless of the dubbing, Hepburn pulls in a tremendous performance, convincing with her evolution to dignity and elegance that generates a few smiles and interest no matter what she is doing, whether that means being insulted while trying to sell flowers on the street with an accent or being at an embassy ball and looking the part of a princess.  One cares about her struggles with getting a "proper" accent, as one could expect from such a dignified actress. Harrison proves his own with a strait laced performance, filled with confident bravado that talks his way through songs with capability and a bit of wit to go alongside everything. They together make for a compelling duo to watch interact with each other, both brimming with confidence that we grow accustomed instantly. Holloway accompanies the action at times with charm befitting someone on the corner selling you some wit. Hyde-White lends a straight hand to Harrison when needed, while Cooper gives off sharp noble air and Brett gives off a capably insipid performance to round out the cast. Cukor, who grew up around the theater, executes the film with conviction and interest to make everything resonate with interesting tunes and a story worth being involved with. When it came time for awards, Cukor, Warner and Harrison reaped an Academy Award each, and the film won awards for its cinematography, sound, score, and art + costume design. One can debate the merits between this beating Mary Poppins for Best Picture, but its title star (Andrews) would reap the benefits of being snubbed for this film while Hepburn didn't get a nomination. Regardless of that, this is a classic big-scale musical in an age where the tide was slowly turning away from such things, a great hurrah with everything seeming right at home here, where pace and spectacle go hand in hand with each other in the fairest of senses.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Mary Poppins.

Review #1415: Mary Poppins.

Cast: 
Julie Andrews (Mary Poppins), Dick Van Dyke (Bert / Mr. Dawes Sr), David Tomlinson (George Banks), Glynis Johns (Winifred Banks), Hermione Baddeley (Ellen), Karen Dotrice (Jane Banks), Matthew Garber (Michael Banks), Elsa Lanchester (Katie Nanna), Arthur Treacher (Constable Jones), Reginald Owen (Admiral Boom), Ed Wynn (Uncle Albert), Reta Shaw (Mrs. Brill), and Don Barclay (Mr. Binnacle) Directed by Robert Stevenson.

Review: 
"That’s the real trouble with the world. Too many people grow up."

What is there to say that has not been said about one of Walt Disney's greatest triumphs? Winner of 22 Academy Awards, Disney was a pioneer of animation that created with his brother Roy one of the most powerful film companies of the world that in the span of nearly a century has gone from animation to diversifying in live-action, theme parks and other various ventures. He had an interest in drawing from an early age, doing various exercises such as copying cartoons and working with tools like watercolors. As he grew older, he delivered papers and took courses for drawing and cartooning at the Kansas City Art Institute. By the time he was 18, he had joined the Red Cross (arriving after the armistice that ended World War I) and found work as a commercial illustrator. He soon found interest in cel animation (as opposed to cutouts), and he soon joined forces with others like Ub Iwerks to make their own studio (Iwerks-Disney commercial Artists, which was short-lived, and Laugh-O-Gram Studio, which lasted two years). Although too late to save the studio, their last creation, inspired by Alice in Wonderland, led to eventual interest in creating a series of shorts (which led to the creation of a studio to distribute said films, originally named Disney Brothers Studio). Over the course of a decade, they would create numerous cartoons with Mickey Mouse being created in 1928. Disney yearned to expand the studio's range and money by making a feature of his own. He would soon plan the first feature-length cel animated film in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), which would take three years to develop amidst arguments with his own brother and wife to try and talk him out of it that was thought to be a futile idea. Simply put, the film was a tremendous success, and several animated film classics would follow in its wake, and live-action segments and features would later follow, and this ended up being Disney's most successful project of the 1960s, one that appeals to both children and adults to this day, an achievement for everyone from longtime Disney director Robert Stevenson to its star in Julie Andrews.

The film was adapted from the book series of the same name by P. L. Travers, who wrote eight children's books featuring the character over a span of 54 years beginning in 1934. As early as 1938, Disney wanted to buy the film rights to the book (owing to his daughters loving the books), but Travers rebuffed efforts for years and years because of her doubts that a feature could do justice to her work (it did not stop CBS from doing a television play of the book in 1949 for their live telecast Studio One, however). In 1961, Travers allowed the rights to be purchased, although she demanded script approval rights (this however was not final draft approval). Considerable changes were made in settling things to film, such as the timeframe being shifted from the 1930s to 1910, a focus on two Banks children rather than four, and a significant lightening of the title character (characterized as slightly vain and stern in the books). The latter change, along with the decision to use animation in some parts and the music (she wanted period piece) did not ultimately please her; when approached in 1993 about turning it into a musical, her key stipulation was that no one who worked on the film be involved with it, although the subsequent stage show that premiered 21 years ended up utilizing the songs from Richard and Robert Sherman, who do tremendous work here (as they did for decades). When it came to star, one could not ask for a greater debut. Andrews had sang with her parents since she was ten years old and had risen to performing on the stage and Broadway by the time she was 19, noted for her work in My Fair Lady (1956) and Camelot (1960). It was the decision by Warner Brothers to pick Audrey Hepburn over her to star in the film adaptation of the former that led to Disney having the chance to have Andrews for this film. Her charm and grace are immediately present to view after seeing her first few scenes, one with a great singing voice and a warm spirit that always seems ready for an interesting time with the children while seeming authentic and firm no matter who she interacts, whether that means children or something odder. Van Dyke, a radio/Broadway/television star (sporting a "Cockney" accent), proves quite amusing to follow up with Andrews, an inviting presence that never seems out of place, whether that involves him singing "Chim Chim Cher-ee" or being part of a laugh riot on the ceiling with Wynn (who proves just as amusing in his one scene). Tomlinson accompanies the film as a capable stuffy authority that holds his own in inspiring curiosity on the other side of the hill (namely, reality). Johns, although not in the film too much, inspires a few flighty chuckles. Doctrice and Garbert do a fine job for the time needed, having that middle ground for child acting that isn't too knowing or annoying to write home about. The others fill in the details of curiosity quite nicely for quirks.

The songs are quite catchy, with one clear choice being "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" in driving a smile to one's face. The animation sequences are interesting, aided by a modification from Petro Vlahos in a Technicolor camera that mixed live-action and animation through what is known as the "Sodium Vapor Process", utilized in films such as The Parent Trap (1961) and The Birds (1963) that served as an alternative for bluescreen in order for more accuracy. There is plenty of imagination and charm to be found here, a film that can sing with the best of them in leaving an impression on its audience with its simple but efficient story of growing up without seeming too sentimental or abrupt through a ravishing 139 minute run-time. Behaving well doesn't mean not having fun, really. Could it have been more accurate to its source material, sure, but does it really matter? Is this not a magical film that accomplishes what it sets out to do for its target audience (i.e. anyone)? There is a magic here that one wishes to experience every now and then that make it an easy pick for its era and Disney's line of work.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Dr. Strangelove.

Review #1301: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

Cast: 
Peter Sellers (Group Captain Lionel Mandrake / President Merkin Muffley / Dr. Strangelove), George C. Scott (General Buck Turgidson), Sterling Hayden (Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper), Keenan Wynn (Colonel Bat Guano), Slim Pickens (Major T. J. "King" Kong), Peter Bull (Soviet Ambassador Alexei de Sadeski), James Earl Jones (Lieutenant Lothar Zogg), Tracy Reed (Miss Scott), and Shane Rimmer (Capt. Ace Owens) Directed and Producted by Stanley Kubrick (#044 - Full Metal Jacket, #065 - The Shining, #093 - 2001: A Space Odyssey, and #1046 - Barry Lyndon)

Review: 
When it comes to satire and black comedies, Dr. Strangelove sure comes to mind as one of the best. It should come as no surprise that it is the work of masters in terms of cast headlined by Peter Sellers and its director in Stanley Kubrick, who are each at their prime in a film that is razor-sharp in every aspect. The film was based off the novel Red Alert by Peter George, a thriller novel that treated its scenario of nuclear accident seriously. In his attempts to write a screenplay based on the book, he found that their was comedy present involving the absurd or paradoxical when it came to the balance of terror that was the arms race between the two superpowers of the world of the time, the United States and the Soviet Union. There certainly was plenty of inspiration involving Cold War tensions for Kubrick to make light of, with the Cuban Missile Crisis, the closest the two powers came to nuclear war, having occurred just two years prior. The "doomsday / mine-shaft" gaps are parodies of the missile gap, which had been popularized for political effect in the late 1950s. As such, the screenplay was credited to Kubrick, Terry Southern (an American novelist known for his dark absurdist style), and Peter George.

On the surface, one might wonder humor could be found with the scenario of an accident that could lead to nuclear warfare. The answer comes out pretty quickly with a film that captures an atmosphere where such a ghastly thing could happen in eccentric hands with subtlety. This for a film with plenty of interesting to go around, such as a general who believes in a Communist plot involving water fluoridation prior that threaten one's precious bodily fluids, or a crazed scientist resisting the urge to have his hand rise to a familiar position, or even a cowboy style wearing pilot that provides the most famous image from this film for its climax involving a missile and him. Sellers is the star of the show, playing three roles with such brilliance that could only come from a comically unique actor, for which he had already showcased with his various disguises in Kubrick's previous film Lolita (1962). He just blends into his two surrounding sets and actors (one being Hayden and the other being Scott and Bull) with perfect ease, each having their own distinct mannerisms and voices without seeming like a distraction from artistic depth. Scott is just as excellent in his role, where over-the-top isn't so much a guild-line as it was a case of Kubrick utilizing takes that were thought to be warm-ups for less ridiculous takes with the actor (for which he swore to never work with Kubrick again, although he later came to appreciate his performance). One can see him give his all with unapologetic grace and bluster that is keen to the moment needed. This goes just as well for the gritting Hayden, who is absolutely the one needed for a madman general like this, needing only a cigar and some talk about the water to make him captivating to view in humor. Pickens (a rodeo performer who also appeared in Westerns), told to play the role straight, is just as fine a highlight in part because his natural cadence shines through to make for laughs without seeming inauthentic. The rest of the cast have their small moments, such as Wynn and his deadpan delivery for his last line that lands perfectly, or Bull and his expressive nature when he first comes into the war room with a small camera, or Jones (who had acted on stage for nearly a decade) with a short but capable way to make a film debut, or Reed and her one-scene show with Scott.

The film is a funny one about such serious things because it knows how to utilize its surroundings without playing everyone for complete fools while having plenty of style to go around in terms of cinematography (Gilbert Taylor, with that wonderful look) and its set design (Ken Adam, with that wonderful war room), where one can see a thriller alongside the satire without seeming like two different films. After all, a serious rendition of potential nuclear warfare through accident would be shown that same year with Fail Safe (itself based off the novel of the same name from Eugene Burdick and Harvey Wheeler), which ended up being released ten months after this film from the same studio after Kubrick and George had sued for copyright infringement. In any case, this is a wonderfully dark comedy that plays on the fears and culture of the time with zest and prime work from its cast and crew to make this an easy winner for everyone, having a bittersweet climax that seals everything up quite nicely (changed from the original intent of having it end with a massive pie fight). It still stands true today because its basic framework of human error and the attitudes of warfare when the chips all seem to be in place for it.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.