Le Mans.

Review #1851: Le Mans.

Cast: 

Steve McQueen (Michael Delaney), Siegfried Rauch (Erich Stahler), Elga Andersen (Lisa Belgetti), Ronald Leigh-Hunt (David Townsend), Fred Haltiner (Johann Ritter), Luc Merenda (Claude Aurac), Christopher Waite (Larry Wilson), Louise Edlind (Mrs. Anna Ritter), Angelo Infanti (Lugo Abratte), and Jean-Claude Bercq (Paul-Jacques Dion) Directed by Lee H. Katzin.

Review: 

You remember the movie Grand Prix (1966), do you? If you don't, that is fine, because I last viewed it eight years ago, but I remember vividly trying to watch it alongside Le Mans as a double-header on cable television late one night. It didn't work out for one half, but the point remains the same. Grand Prix was the John Frankenheimer spectacle about Formula One racing with a wide cast of international actors. At the same time that this film was released, they had a competing group trying to make their own film about racing that involved Steve McQueen (who had rejected an offer to star in Grand Prix) and John Sturges, which was to be called Day of the Champion. This project clearly interested McQueen greatly in the dignity in the sport, one that he felt certain would be a definitive film on motor racing (as described by his wife later). Unfortunately, McQueen could not get the project to actually get on schedule, which led to him starring in other projects; Le Mans (1971), as it would be re-titled, was his first film role since The Reivers (1969). So, what was this race that interested him? The 24 Hours of Le Mans, established in 1923 in France. If you didn't know what the race was (i.e. not watch recent films like Ford v. Ferrari), the race is an endurance match where the winner is determined by what car covers the most distance in 24 hours of racing, complete with dedication taken to keep the car running without failure and driver health to consider (the most recent death in a race was in 2013). McQueen set up his own production company in Solar Productions, which would form an association with Cinema Center Films to make this feature. It should be noted that McQueen was so in love with racing that he even raced under the Solar label for the 1970 edition of the 12 Hours of Sebring (alongside a second driver); McQueen, with a cast on his leg, saw his team finish second to a team driven by Mario Andretti. Alan Trustman was hired to write the script, but troubles with McQueen led to him being fired in favor of Harry Kleiner. However, Sturges would not end up in the director's chair. After time had spent getting a bunch of footage, they fell into trouble with Cinema Center, wanting to take control of the film due to its lack of progress (to the point where they wanted to replace McQueen with Robert Redford); Sturges was quoted as saying he was "too old and rich" to put up with this kind of trouble. Instead, it would be Lee H. Katzin, a Detroit native that was best known for work in television such as Bonanza and Mission: Impossible before he directed his first film in What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice? (1969). Shooting was done during the 1970 edition of the race. The movie, made on a budget of $7.6 million (considerably over budget), could not quite make back its return. McQueen apparently couldn't even race at the historic venue because of insurance issues; during production, driver David Piper got into an accident that resulted in the amputation of his leg. 

A documentary, directed by Gabriel Clarke and John McKenna about the making of the film, was done in 2015 called Steve McQueen: The Man & Le Mans, which includes taped interviews of the time involving McQueen and Sturges alongside recollections done by his wife, his son, and others. Honestly, the one defining aspect of the film in its 106 minutes is its great flawed nature. It is as if McQueen thought that he could make a art house movie for the racing nut, which seems like the strangest combination imaginable. It is no wonder why Sturges couldn't reconcile his differences with McQueen, and it is evident that one doesn't see much of a vision with Katzin, particularly for a movie that doesn't have much of dialogue. The highlight is the racing, pure in all of its gritty and stated form, which will either attract or dissuade a viewer from seeing this curiosity, right down to seeing a few dings in cars and French locale. I appreciate the craftsmanship that comes from the movie, which does eventually build itself into something worth caring about for a race that feels endless in the span of a day. McQueen is basically a cog in a machine that works on the strength of documentary-like footage and not much else. Leigh-Hunt is adequate in a small supporting role that might have been chewed to coaching cliches but is instead just a quiet role for okay credit. Technically speaking, the parts of Grand Prix that worked were just the racing parts, so making a movie about Le Mans that isn't three hours long is probably a compliment, since having a cursory story about a guy who is consumed by racing and not much else (certainly not Andersen, that much is sure) is better than trying to stretch out for things that you might not remember after the movie ends; in other words, all one needs to know is that involves a race between Porsche and Ferrari where anything can happen in a day. It moves on its own pace without going for the easy "Hollywood" turns, right down to its climax with the final three cars gunning for the best position to take, which it handles quite well with few words. As a whole, it is the ultimate average movie, one that is definitely not for everyone but is a useful document of its time for what was ultimately put on the screen in a star-crossed venture. If you can find it, and if you are into what it wants to say about the roar of the engine, it might work for you. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Patton.

Review #1434: Patton.

Cast: 
George C. Scott (Major General George S. Patton), Karl Malden (Major General Omar N. Bradley), Michael Bates (General Bernard Montgomery), Edward Binns (Lieutenant General Walter Bedell Smith), Lawrence Dobkin (Colonel Gaston Bell), John Doucette (Major General Lucian Truscott), James Edwards (Sergeant William George Meeks), Frank Latimore (Lieutenant Colonel Henry Davenport), Richard Münch (Colonel General Alfred Jodl), Morgan Paull (Captain Richard N. Jenson), Siegfried Rauch (Captain Oskar Steiger), and Paul Stevens (Lieutenant Colonel Charles R. Codman) Directed by Franklin J. Schaffner (#347 - Planet of the Apes and #580 - The Best Man)

Review: 
Acting changes the inner spirit. It's fulfilling, but psychologically very costly. You can't steal enough money in a lifetime to make up for the damage. I'm ashamed for the bitterness it created in me, but it exists. Even when you're successful it's hard to rise above it. It's like a growth.


Perhaps it is not too hyperbolic to describe this as the military biopic to try and end all military biopics. The director responsible for such a grand portrait of a man bigger than life was Franklin J. Schaffner, a veteran of World War II for the Navy that worked for over a decade in television with programs such as such as Studio One and Playhouse 90 before adding films to his repertoire with The Stripper (1963). This film proved to be the pinnacle of his career, although he had (and would make) other noted films such as The Best Man (1964), Planet of the Apes (1968) and Papillon (1973). Adapting the larger-than-life general to the screen was a long process, not helped by being denied access to Patton's diaries. Francis Ford Coppola and Edmund H. North would write the script based on two works: Patton: Ordeal and Triumph from Ladislas Farago (a Hungarian military historian and journalist) and A Soldier's Story, written by Omar Bradley (General of the Army and consultant for the film). At the helm as star was George C. Scott, who made a name for himself on stage, television and supporting roles in film starting in 1958 that eventually grew into further prominent work by the time the 1960s had ended. He had acquired the part after Rod Steiger rejected it (he stated that he did not want to glorify war, but he subsequently called it his "dumbest career move"), with this serving as the role Scott became best known for in his career, and he would later return to the role in a TV movie The Last Days of Patton sixteen years later. Schaffner, Coppola, North, and Patton would each win an Academy Award for their work (although Scott would famously refuse to accept the award, having objected to the voting process and competition for actors as a whole).

One thing that can immediately be said about the film that applies to Scott as well is the fact that neither ever seem to flinch for 170 minutes. Whether one sees an enigma with the person portrayed on screen or not, one cannot deny the gripping performance from Scott, who is relentless in conviction and stature that springs right from the opening scene with the speech to the Third Army, standing right by an American flag. The sequence (which utilized statements from the actual speech, albeit toned down in language) is a magnificent way to open the film, filled with no-nonsense bluster and rallying spirit for a war movie made in the midst of another war (perhaps one can infer something from this, as was the case with the other hit war film in M*A*S*H, which was beaten in the race for Best Picture at the Academy Awards that year). One doesn't think about the other members of the cast much when it comes to a film like this, nor do they really think about all the history leading up to Patton being where he is as the man of the moment - one might even believe that Scott and Patton have melded together to make for one encompassing performance that we care for in all of its imperfect perfections. Probably the one person who makes for substantial screen time to follow alongside Scott is Malden, who makes for a reserved but dignified contrast when he shows up from time to time, while the others fill their parts with care that don't fall prey to the contrivances that can sometimes pop up in a biopic (of course this is a movie that covers Patton from just 1943-1945). The battle sequences certainly work out in terms of scope, no doubt aided by being filmed in 65mm Dimension 150 and Jerry Goldsmith's sweeping musical score. While a film will never completely tell the tale of any one man (particularly one as colorful as Patton), this one manages to draw a composed picture on its subject with bombast and precision, which work out most of the time as an enigmatic but involving epic for the era.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.