The Seventh Victim.

Review #2431: The Seventh Victim.

Cast: 

Tom Conway (Doctor Louis Judd), Jean Brooks (Jacqueline Gibson), Isabel Jewell (Frances Fallon), Kim Hunter (Mary Gibson), Evelyn Brent (Natalie Cortez), Erford Gage (Jason Hoag), Ben Bard (Mr. Brun), Hugh Beaumont (Gregory Ward), Chef Milani (Mr. Jacob), and Marguerita Sylva (Mrs. Bella Romari) Directed by Mark Robson (#1797 - Home of the Brave and #1931 - Valley of the Dolls)

Review: 

"It had a rather sinister quality, of something intangible but horribly real; it had an atmosphere. I think the actors and the director had to believe very strongly in the possibilities of disaster: that something was there. We believed it ourselves. We talked ourselves into believing it. We had a kind of fidelity to that feeling. We had the characters speak throughout in a deliberately quiet, polite and subdued manner, engendering a very calculated undercurrent of possible disaster."

This was the fourth of nine movies produced by Val Lewton in what you might call his horror cycle, all for RKO. The movie was written by Charles O'Neal and DeWitt Bodeen. The movie was to be directed by Jacques Tourneur, but he had other plans that saw the promotion of Mark Robson to direct. The Montreal native had actually studied at UCLA and Pacific Coast University School of Law but found his first work in film with the prop department at 20th Century Fox. But he did not settle there, later going to RKO Pictures that saw him start training in film editing. It was here that Robson served as an assistant to Robert Wise on the editing of Citizen Kane (1941), among other things. He then became a main editor for RKO that saw him work on, well, the Lewton features you probably would guess with Cat People (it was Robson who accidentally came up with that one particular sequence involving a bus) and so on. Robson would direct a handful of movies for RKO (which included four for Lewton) before going to various studios for a career that ultimately spanned over three decades. You can probably guess that this movie had a few phases before becoming what you see today: for one, there was initially a pitch involving a murder plot in oil wells before Lewton's supervision saw it go to, well, a cult in the Village, with Bodeen claiming to have based it on a real thing he saw in New York (the movie title refers to Jacqueline, as she is the seventh person condemned for betrayal in the history of the cult-although the cult does not go around killing people, they goad them instead). This was the third of four Lewton-connected movies released in 1943 (with this being released in August), with the others being I Walked with a Zombie (April), The Leopard Man (May), and The Ghost Ship (December). The movie was a flop with audiences at the time, with one cinema worker joking that they must've been the eighth victim. Of course, time has treated it differently (according to Robson, he was asked about the movie by the Boulting brothers who used to bicycle around London a print of the film, which was thought to be "an advanced, weird form of film-making").

I really wished I liked the movie more. But if you are into movies that might tangentially remind you of the dread found in later movies involving cults in one's wake such as, well, Rosemary's Baby (1968), this may be up your alley. The movie was shot in the course of 24 days, but the editing process (as overseen by Robson and John Lockert) was probably more crucial to, well, how things play out. A handful of scenes were cut from the film that relate to certain events in the film and the ending itself was trimmed to basically just end right after one certain sound is heard. It is a slow web to untangle for 71 minutes that probably is akin to actual life in not exactly going the way you think it will unfold for some sort of eerie feeling. That or basically one is watching a noir more than a straight horror film, but I suppose your taste (or patience) may vary. People come and go in the movie, since Hunter (in her film debut) probably is in the movie more than Brooks, although each do pretty well with what the movie shades out in wayward people looking for the way back (okay one is looking to die, but at least she knows where everybody goes anyway). The movie only really seems to gel into fascination in its latter half for me, mostly because it actually stops introducing people and shows what I guess is something about cults that claim to be big on the Devil (notice how they aren't actually stopped at the end, you just see some folks recite the Lord's Prayer at them - good thing they weren't doing anything like killing goats or evading their taxes, oooh!). I guess what I want to say is that it only vaguely holds my fascination because it has that same problem that I ended up having with Rosemary's Baby: get to the damn point, although at least you could almost watch this movie (71 minutes) twice in the time it takes to finish Rosemary. I want to feel like there is more of a looming threat than just a bunch of folks playing house because heaven forbid they go to a church or a bar to find "worship". At least the ending does do one thing right: it simply just ends, because even a thud works for effect. As a whole, it follows along the line of the prior Lewton-connected movies in fine quality with eye-catching titles and interesting imagination with the eerie things that come to lurk in everyday life, whether that involves loneliness or cults or the unknown.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Valley of the Dolls.

Review #1931: Valley of the Dolls.

Cast: 

Barbara Parkins (Anne Welles), Patty Duke (Neely O'Hara), Paul Burke (Lyon Burke), Sharon Tate (Jennifer North), Tony Scotti (Tony Polar), Lee Grant (Miriam Polar), Susan Hayward (Helen Lawson), Martin Milner (Mel Anderson), Charles Drake (Kevin Gillmore), Alexander Davion (Ted Casablanca), Richard Angarola (Claude Chardot), Naomi Stevens (Miss Steinberg), and Robert H. Harris (Henry Bellamy) Directed by Mark Robson (#1797 - Home of the Brave)

Review: 

In 1966, Jacqueline Susann saw her first novel published in Valley of the Dolls. She had aspired to become an actress at a young age in the 1930s, and she got to appear in a handful of stage shows and television, but likely her most known quality was in commercials, which she wrote, produced and starred in for a number of years; she also had a habit of downing amphetamines (calling them "dolls") around this time, which apparently started not long after her son was diagnosed with autism and put into an institution when he was 3. In 1962, at the age of 44, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She then made a pact with God to say that she would prove herself to be the best-selling writer in the world if she was given ten more years of life. Often called the first "brand-name" novelist, Susann became quite the show-woman in promoting books, and her first published work was Every Night, Josephine! in 1963 (inspired by letter she wrote to her pet dog). Valley of the Dolls, the work she is most famous for, came in 1966. Years after steamy novels like Peyton Place succeeded with readers (not with critics), Valley of the Dolls was a twenty-year odyssey in the lives of three young women who all happen to fall prey to drugs called "dolls" that featured other characters inspired by real-life stars such as Ethel Merman, Carole Landis, Judy Garland and Dean Martin. Fifty years after its release, the book has sold more than 31 million copies, and it inspired a film, a "continuation novel", two TV adaptations and a parody with Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970). A book into the process of making Valley of the Dolls called one of the most beloved bad book and movies of its time was written by Stephen Rebello in 2020. Robson was an interesting choice to direct. The Montreal native honed his craft as an editor before he became a director, directing 34 films from The Seventh Victim (1943) to Avalanche Express (1979), with a number of the films seeing him also serve as a producer. Harlan Ellison, Helen Deutsch, and Dorothy Kingsley were brought in to work on the script, although Ellison hated what they did to the book and requested his name taken off - imagine a book that already sees a character kill themselves and another go off the wagon ending on a breezy note. Two further adaptation of the five novels Susann wrote have followed: The Love Machine (1971) and Once Is Not Enough (1975). In 1974, after over a decade of a battle with cancer, Susann died in 1974 at the age of 56.

Just like the film adaptation of Peyton Place (released in 1957 with Robson as director) and Sex and the Single Girl, the book really is steamier than the film it came from, since the book featured elements of homosexuality in both men and women. Of course, the movie takes place in the current day rather than the book timeline from the mid 1940s to the mid 1960s. Jacqueline Susann saw the film on a cruise ship premiere, and she thought it was crap, although she kept that opinion to herself so to not give the movie an early thrashing...which came plenty (probably didn't help that the casting wasn't what she wanted, since she wanted people like Ursula Andress, Bette Davis, Shirley MacLaine and Elvis Presley for the lead roles). The movie and book ended up reflecting each other: audiences dug it while critics trashed it. The movie is an explosion of gloss and grooviness that looks like it was processed in the 1950s that makes a tale of sexual liberation and the entertainment industry seem quite amusing. Adultery, divorce, addiction and deviancy seem like something pulled from the silliest of moral stories.  It's no wonder why she didn't care for it: it's a movie that doesn't know what foot to put in front of the other and looks like a soap opera run amuck. Parkins is just the everyman character, firmly in the middle of weirdo things happening around them with the appeal of a broomstick stuck in a schmaltzy molasses. You might say a normal-ish person is the ideal among all the weirdness, but ordinary isn't always fun. Apparently, Duke wanted to do the film to help transition her into more adult roles, since her role was the most dynamic (she had won an Academy Award for playing Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker and she also had her own TV show). She even gets the opportunity to sing (dubbed by Gail Heideman). The funny thing is that the movie nearly walloped her career, although really, she does pretty well in the art of eating the screen. She eats the screen in all the ways one would hope. Tate is okay, at least because Burke and Scotti are blander. Judy Garland was originally cast in the role later played by Susan Heyward, and promotions were done with that in mind, and she would get to sing a song, which was pre-recorded. After a week, she suffered from her dependence on alcohol and Demerol that saw her get fired from 20th Century Fox. Apparently, on the final day, Robson made her wait until 4pm to film her scenes after making her wait since 8am, in the belief that she would be upset and drunk at the time (so yes, if you believe the account from Duke about Robson, the latter sounds like an asshole). Heyward, an Academy Award winner, is decent in terms of vaunted confidence without particularly having much to really do besides one scene of Duke fighting her over who has the fake appendage on and how to go on. Grant seems to be shuffling through as if the paycheck is just tempting enough to go on. Eh, the movie is as it is: silly but mostly watchable, if one accommodates it being more for the experience rather than a full collection of interesting people. Sure, people think it may be a camp classic with its stylistic kitsch or maybe a revealing look into the struggles of women, but in the end, it all boils down to an absurd and amusing affair that can be thought of as a fantasy for whoever is watching: the gossip-obsessed people desiring a pop event, or people looking for a silly crappy movie to watch (or maybe gay people that look to reclaim the film as a camp classic, but I will let you decide that, since I'm not here for that). In that sense, 55 years has given Valley of the Dolls is overwhelming in the best and worst ways that could only come from a certain time and certain perspective. 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Well, we have reached the ninth and final film of Turkey Week. I really wanted to scrap the bottom of the barrel in terms of movies fitting for the label of "turkey" for Turkey Week. Since the first two Turkey Weeks had eight reviews, I wanted to try and include at least one more movie than what I did before, and I can say that there were a few candidates that missed the cut that may be considered for next year

The Scarlet Letter (1995), Turks in Space, Sidekicks, Verotika, An American Hippie in Israel, The Legend of the Lone Ranger, and The Conqueror

Any and all suggestions are welcome for next year.

Home of the Brave (1949).

Review #1797: Home of the Brave.

Cast: 

Jeff Corey (Doctor), James Edwards (Private Peter Moss), Lloyd Bridges (Finch), Douglas Dick (Major Robinson), Frank Lovejoy (Sergeant Mingo), Steve Brodie (T.J. Everett), and Cliff Clark (Colonel Baker) Directed by Mark Robson.

Review:

1949 was an interesting year for showing Black Americans. A quartet of features came out with varying levels of interest from Hollywood in telling an interesting story involving African Americans that differed from previous years (i.e. roles percieved as demeaning): Intruder in the Dust (1949), Lost Boundaries (1949), Pinky (1949), and this film. The first film was a crime drama adaptation of a William Faulkner novel, while the second one was based on a nonfiction account of a doctor who had passed for white in the 1930s/1940s, and the third was a drama adaptation incolving a woman passing for white that finds purpose in the South while re-claiming her identity. It should be mentioned, of course, that the latter two featured white actors in the starring roles. Home of the Brave (1949) does not do that here, if only because it is a film with a small cast that utilizes James Edwards with enough screen time to essentially make him the star focus in a medical war drama, filmed on modest sets over the course of a month.  The film is adapted from the 1945 play of the same name, which had been written by Arthur Laurents. He had served in the United States Army under the Pictoral Service. While the play did not run well with audiences to merit a long run, critics liked it and its themes of friendship, loyalty, and dealing with antisemitism. Producer Stanley Kramer latched onto making a film about the play, although it was the decision of screenwriter Carl Foreman to change the main character from being a Jewish person to an African American in an attempt to avoid comparisons to recent films such as 1947's Gentlemen's Agreement and Crossfire (ironically, that movie only had a theme of racism/anti-Semitism because the novel's theme of homophobia was not allowed to be shown for a film). Mark Robson had started directing with Val Lewton's unit at RKO Radio Pictures in 1943 before he directed Foreman's script in Champion (1949).

Of course, one thing that seemed to slip by at the time was the fact that the U.S. Army was segregated until 1948. At any rate, I should not be surprised that Kramer and Foreman were behind this film, because they would do another film involving the plight of recovering from the scars of war with The Men (that film dealt with paralyzed veterans as opposed to psychoanalysis), particularly when stuff like The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) was an audience favorite. Atbany rate, this film ended up being a modest success by making over $2.5 million. This was the first starring role for James Edwards (who had appeared in The Set-Up earlier in the year); the Indiana native had studied psychology at Knoxville College before moving onto Northwestern University in drama, and he served in the Army as a first lieutenant. While it ended up being his most well-known role, Edwards would appear in over two dozen feature films while also writing a number of books before his untimely death in 1970 at the age of 51. Edwards proves to be the highlight of the film, wrapped with encompassing sensitivity and tension that doesn't buckle when with a crowd (read: group of five). Basically, he makes a solid lead to follow with for a war movie with semi-effective accuracy in trying to draw raw emotion onto the screen when it comes to treating folks the way one wants to be treated (particularly in war). Bridges is the warmest presence around the group (as one would expect from a sentimental favorite), but he still pulls attention without soft depth, at least when compared to the hard nosed guys like Lovejoy or the heavy in Brodie. Corey makes a decent figure in the "analysis" parts, which don't drag the film longer than it needs to go in flashback before its 88 minute runtime is up. One could see why this certainly seemed more fitting for the stage than film (setting aside one character reading poetry at times), but it manages to be just entertaining enough with its sense of interest in making a worthwhile hard-hitting story that doesnt fall prey to soapbox moments. Among a year filled with attempts at telling different stories involving African Americans, this is a solid winner that tackles prejudice with dutiful conviction and a solid lead in Edwards to make it work.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars. 

Next Time: No Way Out (1950)