Winchester '73.

Review #2010: Winchester '73.

Cast: 

James Stewart (Lin McAdam), Shelley Winters (Lola Manners), Dan Duryea (Johnnie "Waco Johnnie" Dean), Stephen McNally (Henry "Dutch Henry" Brown), Millard Mitchell (Frankie "High-Spade Frankie" Wilson), Charles Drake (Steve Miller), John McIntire (Joe Lamont), Will Geer (Wyatt Earp), Jay C. Flippen (Sergeant Wilkes), Rock Hudson (Young Bull), John Alexander (Jack Riker), and Steve Brodie (Wesley) Directed by Anthony Mann (#1048 - He Walked by Night and #1408 - El Cid)

Review: 

"The very idea of changing my whole thing from the sort of shy, fumbling fellow to the western was just my work. It's all hard work and dedication, to be able to make a go of it. And those were the things offered to me."

James Stewart believed that the real change added in being more of a presence in Westerns when it came to a new phase in his career was the increase of vulnerability, one that differed him from presences in the same genre such as John Wayne. It probably helps that Stewart was now in his forties and was getting back into the thick of more roles in film since his return from serving in the Army Air Forces during World War II, whether that involved It's a Wonderful Life (1946) or Call Northside 777 (1948). As such, 1950 (just as it was in 1948) saw him in numerous starring roles: this film, Broken Arrow, Harvey and The Jackpot; Stewart got to do the film with Universal in tandem with them making Harvey, by the way. Stewart worked with a wide variety of directors over his career, but he would work with Mann on eight films from 1950 to 1958, five of which were Westerns. The film was written by Borden Chase (brought in by Mann to do a re-write and best known as the co-writer of Red River) and Robert L. Richards with a story by Stuart N. Lake, and it was a script that had been bounced around a bit before it became a film, which evidently had Fritz Lang tapped to direct at one point before that went down the wayside, and it was Stewart who had picked Mann (after seeing scenes from Devil's Doorway) to direct in the first place; Mann had done a share of noirs before breaking in better with Westerns, which he did a handful in the 1950s. For the rest of the decade, Stewart would be involved in a variety of box office hits while having a fair share of time spent in the Western, which would serve him just as well in the next decade. 

It's a pretty good movie, rounding all of the bases that you could see in a routine Western while having a main character with absorbing intensity. The odyssey on just how much one gun can affect the lives of others in the West is a curious one, one told with visual acuity. It is not just some frazzled innocent looking for his gun, this is a trip of bloodshed because of the human quality of wanting something so bad they could kill for it. In a row of gunslingers of familiarity and blood, the one who knows how to adapt to the situation is the one who come out alive with the weapon in their hand, which makes for a film that likes to summarize atmosphere for effect that seems fresh that has been used as an argument for starting its own wave of Westerns. The hero is not just a symbol of something decent in the West or something, now he is just a man looking to stay safe on the frontier, by any means necessary.  You see many types of people here, trying to go with the flow of the wind that get touched by the power of the gun, whether that involves Indian traders or would-be robbers, and it makes a riveting odyssey. 

Stewart clearly prepared for the role to the best of his abilities, right down to practicing handling a weapon (obviously he did not do the trick shots in the film, but you get the idea). He proves brilliant in a role that could've simply been one of blandness with an actor less determined to show vulnerability or interest in playing it straight down the line. His odyssey matters to how we care about the layers that get revealed about why it is more than just an odyssey for a gun, which makes the final confrontation (with a lack of music) that much better. McNally makes a quality presence to counteract him as the adversary, efficient in establishing the threat without missing a beat. Winters was quoted as not particularly understanding the role she played, once being quoted as asking, "What does that tell you about the values of that picture? If I hadn't been in it, would anybody have noticed?" Granted, it is hard being the one prominent woman in a cast, but she does fine with it anyways, a weary presence of battered patience.  Mitchell and Duryea make solid supporting presences to the action on either side of the coin in the odyssey (mostly for the latter, as one always likes the adversary taking a licking). The film is generally involving for its 92 minute runtime in showing what really mattered in the West without falling right away to easy tricks or bland dialogue, instead treating one to a patient story about just what it took to survive with more than just a weapon in stock. It takes a certain impulse and certain timing to differentiate one gunslinger from another, which is captured to lean effectiveness by Mann and company here.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Intruder in the Dust.

Review #1969: Intruder in the Dust.

Cast: 

Juano Hernandez (Lucas Beauchamp), David Brian (John Gavin Stevens), Claude Jarman Jr (Chick Mallison), Porter Hall (Nub Gowrie), Elizabeth Patterson (Miss Eunice Habersham), Will Geer (Sheriff Hampton), Charles Kemper (Crawford Gowrie), David Clarke (Vinson Gowrie), Elzie Emanuel (Aleck), Lela Bliss (Mrs. Mallison), and Harry Hayden (Mr. Mallison) Directed by Clarence Brown (#423 - A Woman of Affairs, #433 - Angels in the Outfield, #484 - Plymouth Adventure, #1351 - The Rains Came) 

Review: 

The real reason that people care about the film in any way besides the usual crime movie elements is Juano Hernandez. He was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico in 1896 (two years prior to the region being acquired by the United States). Before becoming an actor, he worked as a sailor, a circus entertainer, and a boxer. He entered vaudeville in the late 1920s, doing various shows in New York City that included a Broadway debut with Show Boat in 1927. He did work for radio on programs such as Cavalcade of America. Hernandez had gotten his start in film with who else but Oscar Micheaux with the 1932 film The Girl from Chicago, the first of three appearances in a Micheaux feature (there were a few uncredited appearances in films here and there as well, but Intruder in the Dust was his first starring role). Until his death in 1970 at the age of 74, Hernandez was a regular presence in film, such as The Breaking Point (1950) and Trial (1955), although this film has generally been the one that he is best recognized for, in part because of his standout performance that paved the way for more involving roles for black actors. The movie is an adaptation of the 1948 novel of the same name by William Faulkner (which like a variety of his works employed a stream of consciousness style of narration). Incidentally, in order to make money, Faulkner served as a screenwriter for various films from 1932 until the 1950s (which resulted in scripts such as the 1944 adaptation To Have and Have Not). Faulkner was only semi-involved with the production, but it was shot in Oxford, Mississippi (where he had lived most of his life); it should be noted that while most of the cast got to enjoy the hospitality of the University of Mississippi, Hernandez was housed separately at the residence of an undertaker. The choice of director was the one who pushed to do a film of the book in Clarence Brown, who had been raised in Tennessee, had known Faulkner for a time in the late 1930s when Brown was a key director for MGM. Of course, the film only got the greenlight when Dore Schary, fresh off being hired as vice president of production, backed doing it despite the objections of studio head Louis B. Meyer. Ben Maddow wrote the script for the film.

The movie was not a major hit at the time, perhaps because of its minimal promotion or being on the tail-end of "message movies" (imagine watching Pinky or Home of the Brave and then deciding to ditch Intruder in the Dust). But at least it had a fan in Faulkner, who said it was a "fine job." As an 87-minute feature, it works quite well in the art of creating a careful yarn that is part-whodunit and part-look into oneself. It isn't so much about finding the truth about who committed the crime as it is finding the truth in how one could get wrapped up in a possible lynching in the first place. It is a film that does not wrap itself in pretentions of being something that it is not, being a Southern tale with biting truth all the way through (which is why Brown, a craftsman of various successes, deserves credit for making sure the film was not done within a studio backlot), one that is firmly made in a time for one to experience themselves in levels of uncomfortableness (such as its use of the N-word, for example). Obstinate is probably the best way to describe the character played by Hernandez, which is to say he is firmly confident in each scene he commands the screen, which doesn't require copious amounts of dialogue to get the point across of how engaging he proves to be. He isn't just a symbol utilized for some sort of message of tolerance for the sake of it, as he is no servant to misplaced pride. It is funny too, because Brian and Jarman are actually pretty good too, acting in their own type of tolerance angle with Hernandez in nuance that makes it an uneasy coming-of-age film as well, where adult figures are not cut and dry in helping one find easy answers in the building blocks of life. Sure, books/films such as To Kill a Mockingbird ended up enduring more in the public consciousness when it came to children and the destruction of innocence and moral heroes over a decade after the release of the film (each involve an accuser's family being of ill repute). However, Intruder in the Dust and its portrayal of the struggle to understand an adult world that doesn't make much sense with its teen character in Jarman is not to be forgotten to go with Brian and his double-act of prejudices and principles. This goes for Patterson as well, quietly effective in elder sophistication without intrusions of unsubtlety. At any rate, this is a movie to watch for Hernandez and company as a whole, with his cool confidence providing the spark for a rivetingly uncomfortable crime movie that is more than meets than the eye in the parts that matter most. It endures after over seven decades because it shows us how much work one still has to do in the matter of understanding and pride, whether in a small town or beyond.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song.

Jeremiah Johnson.

Review #1441: Jeremiah Johnson.

Cast: 
Robert Redford (Jeremiah Johnson), Will Geer (Bear Claw Chris Lapp), Stefan Gierasch (Del Gue), Delle Bolton (Swan), Josh Albee (Caleb), Joaquín Martínez (Paints His Shirt Red), Allyn Ann McLerie (The Crazy Woman), Paul Benedict (Reverend Lindquist), Jack Colvin (Lieutenant Mulvey), Matt Clark (Qualen), Richard Angarola (Chief Two-Tongues Lebreaux), and Charles Tyner (Robidoux) Directed by Sydney Pollack (#084 - Tootsie)

Review: 
"Timing is a big thing with actors. You don't ever want to over-rehearse, but you don't want them under-prepared either. Part of the trick is knowing when to roll the cameras. So many times I'll see a performance peak during the rehearsal process and they never quite get it back. That's why I'd rather be rolling early."

"Storytellers broaden our minds: engage, provoke, inspire, and ultimately, connect us."

It never fails to turn to a new face for a film experience, whether for the 1970s or for versatility when it comes to directors or actors. It should only prove fitting to showcase a film involving lifelong friends in director Sydney Pollack and Robert Redford, who each experienced success in their own fields both with and without each other. This was the second of seven collaborations between Pollack and Redford (the first one being in Pollack's second feature This Property Is Condemned six years prior). Redford had his debut in the stage in 1959 while starting work on television as a guest the following year, while Pollack started studying theatre acting in 1952 with appearances in television starting in 1956. The two would meet up together in 1960 on the production of War Hunt (1962), which was the major acting film debut for both actors, and they would become life-long friends. The key to wanting to become a director came in 1961 when Pollack worked on The Young Savages as a dialogue coach, as he was encouraged by its star Burt Lancaster to try his hand at directing. He soon found television work to direct while cutting back on his acting appearances, and he received his first film to direct with The Slender Thread (1965). Redford (who would become a noted director in his own right) described him as a director with an ability to "connect the more commercial strain with the more abstract", one who could work with stars and make a film with wit that could differ from the usual commercial fare. Pollack would direct over twenty projects over the next four decades while also having a hand in producing (and occasionally acting) in them before his death in 2008, with notable films including They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (1969), Tootsie (1982, director/co-producer/actor), Out of Africa (1985, director/co-producer that garnered him two Academy Awards), and The Firm (1993, director/co-producer). 

The film is based on two works: Crow Killer: The Saga of Liver-Eating Johnson (written by Raymond Thorp and Robert Bunker) that detailed the life of John Jeremiah Johnson and Vardis Fisher's novel Mountain Man, which was a fictional work inspired by the exploits of Johnson. He was a man who went through many professions, such as sailor, trapper, and even deputy (although obviously the film is based on just the trapper experiences). The film was adapted to the screen by Edward Anhalt (co-writer of Panic in the Streets along with other films with and without his wife Edna) and John Milius (whose most notable writing credit was The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean earlier in the year). It should only figure that Redford would be involved in a film like this (which he considers his favorite), one with a mountain man that seeks out the nature of the land (shot mostly in Utah, which Redford had bought his own ski area), a western of the wilderness with a careful pace and tremendous visual style to tell a worthwhile experience that will hopefully leave the viewer with some sort of appreciation for the loner in all of us or at least for the environment for which one can (and should) take time to view and breathe in all of its strange qualities. Redford lives up to the challenge of a role that requires a patient actor to suffer through the coldness of the land and reality with conviction and understanding. It is a role for the actor that wants to make something of themselves to make a mythic role their own with no pretentions. Geer and Gierasch make for colorful standouts among a carefully collected supporting cast that build a myth of nature and revenge with pathos and good timing. At 116 minutes (including overture and intermission), it makes for a fair sit to go through at least once, filled with wide open moments to see Redford and a landscape worth viewing for some quality entertainment as a wilderness western fitting for its era and the people who featured prominently in it.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

In Cold Blood.

Review #1426: In Cold Blood.

Cast: 
Robert Blake (Perry Smith), Scott Wilson (Dick Hickock), John Forsythe (Alvin Dewey), Paul Stewart (Jensen, the reporter), Gerald S. O'Loughlin (Harold Nye), Jeff Corey (Walter Hickock), John Gallaudet (Roy Church), James Flavin (Clarence Duntz), Charles McGraw (Tex Smith), Sammy Thurman (Flo Smith), Will Geer (Prosecuting attorney), John McLiam (Herbert Clutter), Ruth Storey (Bonnie Clutter), Brenda C. Currin (Nancy Clutter), and Paul Hough (Kenyon Clutter) Written, Produced, and Directed by Richard Brooks (#871 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and #1033 - Dollars)

Review: 
"If you’re thinking of getting into the movies, you better like it a whole lot. You better love making movies. Because it’s not easy--it’s not easy to make even a bad movie. You better be prepared to eat it, unsalted, because that’s the job of a movie maker. You better like it, because that’s what you’re going to have to do.”

The late 1960s were exactly a time for boundaries to be pushed further for film. Richard Brooks proved to be one of numerous directors that would bridge the gap between the studio system style of directing films and the growing independence (with some studio influence) of later years to make for a career of over 40 years of directing, writing, and producing. He had originally started work as a journalist and sports reporter before deciding to move to work in the theater and work on B-films. He also wrote novels as well, with The Brick Foxhole (1945, written while in the Marine Corps) being adapted as Crossfire (1947) being turned into a film. He moved to noir thriller not long after the war ended, helping to write works such as The Killers (1946) and Key Largo (1948) before given a chance to direct with alongside write with Crisis (1950). He would do 24 films in total as director (with the ones after Cat on a Hot Tin Roof being done independently after leaving MGM), with highlights including Blackboard Jungle (1955), Elmer Gantry (1960), and The Professionals (1966). Even early in his career he received respect, being described by French magazine Cahiers du Cinema as a "rebel" American auteur filmmaker, who believed that telling and doing a story was most important (stating that directing, editing, and scoring was writing). This went hand in hand with his reputation as a hard-as-nails man of his work who was prone to outbursts of anger, even when he became producer of his films (six of his last nine were produced by him including this one). On one of his films, he gathered the crew on their first day and told them that while they may have their own ideas and contributions about how to make it improved, they should keep it to themselves since it is was going to be done his way as "his fucking movie".

This was adapted from the novel of the same name by Truman Capote, who wrote what he labeled a "non-fiction novel" (being one of the first works to be associated with that genre) over the span of six years (while accompanied by friend Harper Lee) that detailed the 1959 murders of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Kansas that that had a triple narrative that jumped around the lives of the killers, the family, and the other members of the rural community (two films were subsequently made involving Capote's experience with writing the book in Capote and Infamous). The film strives for realism right down to the locations, since the sites of the actual crime in Kansas were used for a good deal of filming, most notably with the Clutter home (although the state penitentiary scenes were not allowed to be filmed in the prison, so sets were used instead). One noted difference between the novel and film was the adding of a reporter character to the proceedings, no doubt inspired by Capote (who went to Kansas after hearing about the murders to cover the manhunt and do interviews, where he eventually formed a bond with Smith). They even had some of the original jurors from the trial appear for the film. The attention to detail, combined with a documentary-style cinematography from Conrad Hall makes for a highly effective film. Brooks was firm in his intent to not have big stars play the main characters, feeling that it would be a distraction (Columbia Pictures originally wanted Steve McQueen and Paul Newman, for example). Blake was a child star who had grown up to less known roles as an adult while Wilson was in only his second ever film role, recommended by Sidney Poitier and Quincy Jones (who both worked with Wilson earlier with In the Heat of the Night). Blake proves the best performance of the whole group, one riddled with creeping conviction that lures you into a world of darkness as a brutal contradiction that creeps under the surface until the climatic flashback, with his conversation about his father in the rain sequence (where it looks like tears that stays on his face) being a somber highlight. Wilson captures dark charm that fits the other side of the crazed coin with an impulsive nature that seems likes a ticking time bomb, whether that means trying to lure someone into a trap or force their way through street senses. Forsythe (known for his television work) delivers quality as the real-life authority figure, while Stewart (a portrayer of often sinister and cynical characters in film, television, stage, and radio) delivers cynicism like a Greek chorus (which Capote took exception to) that observes the pursuit with eventual narration that contrasts him with everyone else, particularly since he is the one to ponder over the events that have occurred with the film after it closes, and the other members of the cast do well whenever there is some focus on them (such as Corey and McGraw each talking about how they tried to raise their kid). The film balances its narratives with care that builds to its violent action near the end with key amounts of darkness and shock (likely better than if it had just been shown in the first half), with a message that mostly hits its mark in the end, depending on how one feels about the death penalty. On the whole, this is a efficient film, filled with detail and execution with devastating lead performances and a 134 minute run-time that makes for a creeping experience that packs a punch after five decades as a gem of realism and a study of human nature.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Broken Arrow (1950).

Review #1376: Broken Arrow.

Cast: 
James Stewart (Tom Jeffords), Jeff Chandler (Cochise), Debra Paget (Sonseeahray), Basil Ruysdael (Gen. Oliver Otis Howard), Will Geer (Ben Slade, Rancher), Joyce MacKenzie (Terry, Scatfly Proprietress), Arthur Hunnicutt (Milt Duffield, Mail Superintendent), and Jay Silverheels (Geronimo) Directed by Delmer Daves.

Review: 
There have been plenty of Western directors, and one who had his own place with stars was Delmer Daves. He started his film career as a prop boy on a Western with The Covered Wagon (1923), having aspired to be a lawyer in California. Despite finishing his studies, he decided to become a screenwriter for MGM in 1929. Through various studios such as MGM and Warner Bros, he wrote numerous films such as The Petrified Forest (1936) and Love Affair (1939). Although he did not receive the kind of nominations and awards like other directors of his time, he still found time to make a 22-year career worthwhile while directing numerous stars in his films, revolving from Gary Cooper to George C. Scott in his 22-year directing career, with highlights including 3:10 to Yuma (1957), The Hanging Tree (1959), and Spencer's Mountain (1963). This film was not different when it came to stars, in terms of Stewart, who started the decade with a renewed output in films that evolved his everyman persona with a bit more ruggedness (with this being the first of his Westerns for the era), while Chandler was a relative unknown with physicality and radio (and a bit of film) experience that lifted him to stardom.

The film was adapted from Elliott Arnold's novel of the same name by Albert Maltz (who used a front name due to blacklisting), which told the story of a peace agreement between Cochise and the U.S. Army that occurred for a few years, with dramatizations of historical figures such as Jeffords and Cochise, particularly with the former in terms of a romance. However, it is the attempt to show Native Americans in a balanced manner that made it stood out from the hostile manner of other Westerns in previous years. It is dignity that encompasses the film in its portrayal of attempted peace in the face of prejudice that has its own merits now as it did then, where understanding is the real key to a just land as opposed to a whirlwind of strikes and revenge. Stewart is the fiber of the film, one with growing principles towards a future besides the status quo of war. Chandler (who would play the role again alongside Silverheels in The Battle at Apache Pass two years later) proves to be just as interesting with fiber, giving credence to a fairly balanced historical role with a sense of presence that makes him compelling to watch. Paget seems a bit too young for this particular role, since there is a considerable age difference of 25 years between her and Stewart, which ends up with a bare sense of chemistry that tangles up the climax a bit. Ruysdael and the others lend a fair hand at giving credence and differing tension to a film that yearns to tell a story beyond just fighting for a Western - which works itself out most of the time. On the whole, the film works itself for 93 minutes without too much trouble, a careful film that stands competently after eight decades with structure worth looking forward to now among the usual Westerns of its time.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.