Rosemary's Baby.

Review #2118: Rosemary's Baby.

Cast: 

Mia Farrow (Rosemary Woodhouse), John Cassavetes (Guy Woodhouse), Ruth Gordon (Minnie Castevet), Sidney Blackmer (Roman Castevet), Maurice Evans (Hutch), Ralph Bellamy (Dr. Abraham Sapirstein), Angela Dorian (Terry Gionoffrio), Patsy Kelly (Laura-Louise McBirney), Elisha Cook Jr (Mr. Nicklas), Emmaline Henry (Elise Dunstan), and Charles Grodin (Dr. Hill) Written for the Screen and Directed by Roman Polanski (#631 - Chinatown)

Review: 

Ira Levin was a prolific writer in his day before and after Rosemary's Baby. He had written the 1953 novel A Kiss Before Dying and the play adaptation of No Time for Sergeants. By the 1960s, he had come up with the reasoning that the most suspenseful part of a horror story was "before, not after, the horror appears" and came up with a fetus as the idea for said target. Dealing with a flop in the mid 1960s on Broadway, Levin returned to the idea and reasoned that between making a fetus with impregnation by aliens or the Devil, one basically was stuck with the latter because The Midwich Cuckoos already had dealt with aliens and children. The resulting book (worked over starting in 1965) ended up being so interesting that director William Castle mortgaged his house to buy the rights for the book before it was even published (which occurred in March 1967), as Castle was that confident in a book even in gallery proof form was the one that would make a fine film, and the book ended up as one of the most noted horror novels of its decade. While Paramount Pictures was interested in doing the film, studio head Robert Evans insisted that Castle serve only as producer while having Roman Polanski as director. The French-born director had grown up in Poland and survived the brunt of the Holocaust to study at the National Film School in Łódź before he became a feature director with Knife in the Water (1962). His next three films, made in Britain, involved either horror or thriller aspects with Repulsion (1965), Cul-de-Sac (1966), and The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967). This was the first Hollywood feature for the director, which he also wrote the screenplay that hewed fairly close to the book in several respects. The film was a hit, but Castle dealt with kidney problems after the release that ailed him for a time when he should have basked in the moment of being right. Famously, the ending of the novel/film got William Peter Blatty in a twist that saw him get onto the road to doing his own book about demons in people with The Exorcist (1971). A television film that served as a "sequel" came with Look What's Happened to Rosemary's Baby (1976). Levin saw a variety of his books and plays turned into films over the years, such as The Stepford Wives, The Boys from Brazil, and Deathtrap. In 1997, he wrote a follow-up book with Son of Rosemary. A TV miniseries adaptation of the original novel alongside the sequel book happened in 2014.

Do you ever watch a movie and have that feeling in your stomach that a film with a high reputation really is "just good, not great"? Oh, it happens sometimes (such as the overrated Hereditary or The Invisible Man [2020]), where a film seems to ride really hard on being disturbing in the realm of overt possibilities and so and so on (that, and relying on a short haircut that inspires a chuckle each time I see it). It is amusing that Paramount Pictures distributed this film and Targets in the same year when it comes to horror films hinging in plausibility and the cheaper production (and the one screwed over in marketing) outclasses the former when it comes to flat out getting to the damn point (I find it strangely amusing that the coven is left to blinding actors and being 98% effective in making a man go into a coma in their plans of the whatever). Plus, it doesn't seem to drag its runtime unlike the 137 minutes present here. Sometimes I wondered what would have been if Castle (you know, the guy behind productions such as The Night Walker [1964]) was allowed to have made the film within his own ideas rather than just be the producer. Don't get me wrong, the movie is good and all of the things that come with trying to build suspense with something that you have a good grasp is going wrong earlier than the film believes the viewer thinks they will figure that out. But hey, the film itself, particularly with its one key sequence of lady in bed seeing what she sees and hears in the dark, does make a quality impression in the terror of life under siege to others barging into their lives and their homes. The mental and physical pain that comes out in the film makes for an experience that requires a presence to make it more than words, and it is Farrow (best known previously for her two years on the soap opera Peyton Place in the mid-1960s) that lifts the film as well as one can do with making an involving lead that we can feel for in the realm of reacting to ever-shifting terror (it might seem interesting that a horror film got Academy Award nominations for acting, until you realize Gordon received one and won while Farrow didn't even get a nomination). Gordon of course is effective in that shroud of uneasy weirdness that could only inspire the best type of paranoia and curiosity to go with Blackberry. Cassavetes makes an assuring accomplice, one who is assured even in the face of pathetic qualities that only could come from this (complete with an apt reaction at the end). Evans and Bellamy are on opposite sides of the coin in veteran presences that work out well against Farrow in the shades of doubt and query. In general, the film does work out pretty well in the idea of terror lurking around and possibly inside one's own self, complete with worthy staging to make it feel real. Of course, the ending is a bit on the offbeat side (or for others, perhaps sacrilegious), but as a moment of total acceptance of the scenario that arises from ambition in the face of people that call themselves human, it works. As a whole, it isn't nearly the classic that others might wish to bestow when compared to various others in the 1960s for horror, but it is watchable all the way through with a carefully crafted story that is undoubtedly on there for any horror person to watch at least once.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next: Anthology horror, double-packed.

Little Caesar.

Review #1701: Little Caesar.

Cast: 

Edward G. Robinson (Caesar Enrico "Rico" Bandello), Douglas Fairbanks Jr. (Joe Massara), Glenda Farrell (Olga Stassoff), William Collier Jr. (Tony Passa), Sidney Blackmer (Big Boy), Ralph Ince (Pete Montana), Thomas E. Jackson (Sergeant Flaherty), Stanley Fields (Sam Vettori), Maurice Black (Little Arnie Lorch), and George E. Stone (Otero) Directed by Mervyn LeRoy (#596 - Random Harvest)

Review: 

There is an interesting curiosity one can find from movies made in the pre-Code era of Hollywood filmmaking. Sure, there were boards of censorship all across the country since the silent era, but one generally finds more interest in looking at the era of filmmaking when sound become prevalent in feature films. In other words, one sees things differently in film when you can hear the action to go along with it, regardless of the fact that public pressure would soon mount a Motion Picture Production Code that would soon oversee features for three decades. But that was in 1934, so let us jump back to 1931. This was the same year that saw the release of The Public Enemy (featuring James Cagney in the role that also made him a star) which came out three months after this feature, with each being based on written experiences in Chicago near gangster types, with this film being based off the book of the same name by W. R. Burnett (a novelist and screenwriter for decades who had resided in the city as a hotel desk clerk), with a screenplay written by Francis Edward Faragoh and Robert N. Lee (each nominated for an Academy Award for their work here, which they lost to the writers for Cimarron), with un-credited work by Robert Lord and Darryl F. Zanuck. Incidentally, Robinson and Cagney would star together in a feature together in Smart Money (1931), a crime drama that was the first and only time they starred together. For all the speculation about inspirations within the gangster Al Capone for either The Public Enemy or this feature (which drew not so much entirely on Capone but also criminals such as Salvatore "Sam" Cardinella), this was also the same year that he was charged and convicted of tax evasion that saw him put in jail. At any rate, those aforementioned films also made stars of their lead actors; Robinson had emigrated to the States from Romania as a child, but his first interest was in law before acting. Years spent in the theatre served him well when he started to make regular appearances in film with The Hole in the Wall (1929), which would be one of a handful of films he appeared in that ranged from second to supporting role (primarily in the crime drama genre). Of course, the gangster film did not entirely start with this film either, since one could argue that Underworld (1927) as the proto-gangster movie, and Lights of New York (1928), the first all-talking feature (which alongside Public Enemy and Little Caesar was released by the studio) also had elements of the crime drama in it. At any rate, Burnett was also one of the writers behind Scarface (1932), which also has stood as one of the lasting key pieces of the gangster film, particularly in the pre-Code era. 

At the helm for this feature is LeRoy, who had graduated from a brief stint in acting to writing comedies to directing his own features in the 1920s. Little Caesar is one of over thirty features that he would direct in the 1930s for a decade with plenty of audience appetite for films. As a whole, it might not be as devastating in raw entertainment as The Public Enemy, but its lead performance by Robinson essentially carries it enough to the point where it does not matter too much because one is having too much fun with the gripping interest generated in 79 minutes. LeRoy was one of the hardest working directors of his time, and it certainly shows in both his successes and missteps presented here, one that has some fairly well captured shots from cinematographer Tony Gaudio to accommodate some static moments (as is the case with early sound films, and this even has a few intertitles) without seeming too constrained or too apart while serving as a blunt instrument of efficient filmmaking. There would be a variety of gangster films over the next few years, but Little Caesar managed to stay its welcome with its reasonable edge for the subject that didn't go straight for easy tricks such as indulging in violence or confusing its message in simplified or complicated gobbledygook - it helped to build the clichés to gaze upon in the gangster film for years to come, if you think about it. You get a tale of someone rising the ladder in organized crime that doesn't pull punches, and Robinson is at the forefront of making this role his with no complication. He would find himself typecast in a variety of tough guy roles over the next few years (even taking a role in Larceny, Inc (1942) to offset his image with a comedy, which I fondly remember enjoying), and it isn't too hard to see why, owing to his voice and mannerisms that make him undeniably interesting to view through the film, whether spent trying to strong-arm Fairbanks Jr or strong-arm himself into the next big thing; everybody needs a good death scene in a gangster film (no matter how prepared/un-prepared one is for it), and he makes that final line stick with the right sense of doom and folly required. Fairbanks Jr and Farrell are meant to match him in sensibility, which generally works out fine in useful engagement without detracting from the general experience. The supporting cast prove worthy enough in setting the seedy atmosphere required in terms of grimy strength (ones that could be thought of as faceless brutes). Jackson plays the authority with coarse charm that doesn't serve to make this a straight moral tale. As a whole, its portrayal of the rise and fall of a crime lord proves quite interesting in cultivating a worthy atmosphere and tension within a great lead performance and fair support from others in a proven feature that has endured well for itself after eight decades since its release, a fitting marker for a star and director that had plenty of time to follow up their successes in their field.

On the board for the Count to Ten Project, updated.

1921: 5, 1922-23: 8 each, 1924: 9, 1926: 7, 1929: 5

1930: 6, 1934: 4, 1935: 5, 1936-37: 6, 1938: 5

1940-41: 8 each, 1944: 7, 1948-49: 8 each

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

People Will Talk.

Review #1378: People Will Talk.

Cast: 
Cary Grant (Dr. Noah Praetorius), Jeanne Crain (Deborah Higgins), Finlay Currie (Shunderson), Hume Cronyn (Prof. Rodney Elwell), Walter Slezak (Prof. Lyonel Barker), Sidney Blackmer (Arthur Higgins), Basil Ruysdael (Dean Lyman Brockwell), and Katherine Locke (Miss James) Written and Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (#750 - All About Eve)

Review: 
A good movie comes from a variety of aspects, whether through its actors or through its director in telling a story worth experiencing on screen. Joseph L. Mankiewicz. He had started in Hollywood as a titles writer because of his brother Herman (an accomplished writer in his own right, notably co-writing Citizen Kane), eventually moving on to writing scripts such as Skippy (1931, where he earned his first Academy Award nomination). He worked for Paramount for a few years before moving to MGM to write and eventually produce films as a well (although he did un-credited work on numerous productions of his). He shifted to 20th Century Fox and found his chance to direct, which he did with Dragonwyck (1946). He soon reached prime success with A Letter to Three Wives (1949) and All About Eve (1950). Both films won him Academy Awards for Best Director and Adapted Screenplay. In total, Mankiewicz made twenty films (with one documentary and one TV film) from 1946 to 1972 before his death at the age of 83 in 1993, with other notable films of his being Julius Caesar (1953), Cleopatra (1963), and Sleuth (1972).

The film was adapted from the German play Dr. med. Hiob Prätorius by Curt Goetz, which had been adapted into a film one year prior in West Germany (which Goetz co-directed along with playing the title role) and would be done again in 1965. The 1950s were still a time for a Production Code (with power that withered considerably) that tended to butt itself in to films touching certain aspects of life , such as wedlock pregnancies or taking one's life, but that didn't mean films couldn't find ways around it with cleverness or some amiable star power, which works itself out with folks like Mankiewicz and Grant at the helm. This is an interesting comedy-drama, one wrapped in casual composed charm from Grant (as one could expect) and a measured presence from Crain that makes for a sly and clever time that aims for sophistication over convention in terms of life with medicine. It has a foundation that can still be applied today, where a good film is like medicine in being more than a bunch of parts to jam together but one that needs good care and belief in one's director, which works adequately enough for 110 minutes. Currie carries through with support as a careful presence that isn't forgotten from the screen for too long, while Cronyn contributes an adversarial role with the right sense of condensation and envy and Slezak delivers some light charm. There are quite a few interesting moments to highlight, such as Grant dealing with composing music with a student/faculty orchestra, or the misconduct hearing with composed sly tone and humor. It might not be the best film in the Mankiewicz portfolio, but it is still a worthy one worth checking out for its charm and reach for drama alongside comedy that stands for itself as a fair gem for the 1950s.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Duel in the Sun.

Review #1369: Duel in the Sun.

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

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

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

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.