Circus of Horrors (1960)

“A thief and a prostitute: the perfect candidate for the Schuler Circus.”

Synopsis:
After botching a job on a society woman (Colette Wilde), a plastic surgeon (Anton Diffring) goes on the lam, taking over a circus owned by a Frenchman (Donald Pleasence) with a scarred daughter (Carla Challoner), and populating it with facially disfigured, troubled women whose beauty he restores. When his protegees choose to leave, however, he jealously kills them one by one, and soon a detective (Conrad Phillips) is on his trail.

Genres:

Review:
According to TCM’s article, “During a twelve month period between April 1959 and April 1960 British filmmakers tested the boundaries of the horror film with a much stronger emphasis on sex and violence in three features often referred to as the ‘Sadian Trilogy’ — Horrors of the Black Museum, Circus of Horrors and Peeping Tom.” Of these, Peeping Tom (1960) is the most highly regarded, but Circus of Horrors — while not “must-see” for anyone other than fans of the genre — remains a well-mounted, effectively lurid tale in its own right. Despite possessing a host of egregious flaws in narrative logic, it’s guaranteed to hold your interest, thanks in part to colorful cinematography (by DP Douglas Slocombe), solid direction (by Sidney Hayers, best known for 1962′s Burn, Witch, Burn), and several fine performances (including a small, early one by Donald Pleasence, who — like all others killed or maimed in this film — meets a most unpleasant death).

German-born Diffring is nicely cast as the troubled lead of the film, who is clearly a “baddie” but not entirely evil; from the film’s opening sequence — in which a woman (Wilde) shrieks with horror at the botched job that’s been done on her face — it’s made clear that Diffring never intended for things to work out this way, and that he actually takes great pride in the stellar work he’s able to carry out, under the right circumstances. With that said, we soon learn that Diffring’s Dr. Rossiter/Schuler is an egomaniacal control freak who desires not only to make disfigured women beautiful again, but to hold them forever accountable to his will (and sexual desires). His choice (as a fugitive) to run a very-public circus — not to mention his uncanny ability to turn all the women he takes under his wing into stellar acrobats — are evidence of the flawed logic listed previously; but they help to propel the undeniably sensationalist story towards its inevitable conclusion, with several gruesomely circus-themed deaths thrown in along the way. Meanwhile, fine use is made of Billy Smart’s actual circus performers; fans of this type of entertainment will surely enjoy seeing its historical capturing on film.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Anton Diffring as Dr. Schuler
  • Donald Pleasence as Vanet
  • Erika Remberg as Elisa
  • Fine use of Billy Smart’s Circus as a setting

Must See?
No, but it’s certainly recommended.

Links:

Annie Oakley (1935)

“I never knowed any woman could shoot good enough to join this outfit.”

Synopsis:
When touring in the Wild West Show run by Buffalo Bill (Moroni Olson), backwoods sharpshooter Annie Oakley (Barbara Stanwyck) and her performance partner (Preston Foster) fall in love while maintaining a facade of friendly rivalry.

Genres:

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary begins his review of director George Stevens’ romantic biopic by noting that “Barbara Stanwyck is fine as a good-hearted, unpretentious backwoods girl who joins Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show because of her love for Preston Foster, a rival sharpshooter”. He argues that the “most interesting and enlightening aspect of the film is that Foster, once full of conceit, is willing to accept that Stanwyck is the better shot”, and is ultimately “supportive of her rather than being jealous or competitive”; this slant to the storyline makes it more akin to A Star is Born than to the musical it directly inspired, Irving Berlin’s Annie Get Your Gun (which posits Oakley and her love interest as perpetually at rivalrous odds with one another). Peary points out that Annie Oakley “looks dated and suffers considerably from the overuse of studio sets that give it [a] phony and claustrophobic feel”, but I wasn’t all that bothered by this, especially since the Wild West Show itself was very much a “staged” production, and there’s a sense of authenticity to its re-creation here. While it’s not must-see viewing, this one will surely be of interest to fans of Stanwyck, and is worth a one-time look by all film fanatics.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Barbara Stanwyck as Annie Oakley
  • Preston Foster as Toby Walker
  • A fine recreation of the immensely popular Wild West Show

Must See?
No, but it’s recommended for Stanwyck’s performance.

Links:

Journey’s End (1930)

“Think of it all as romantic — it helps.”

Synopsis:
During World War I, a fatigued captain (Colin Clive) on the verge of a breakdown is distressed to learn that a former classmate (David Manners) who once idolized him has been sent to his company; meanwhile, an older lieutenant (Ian Maclaren) tries to help Clive stay balanced and sane until his replacement arrives.

Genres:

Review:
Based on an enormously popular British play by R.C. Sherriff, Journey’s End is notable as the film which brought director James Whale to Hollywood, and provided Colin Clive with his screen debut. Whale had directed Clive in the original play as well, and much of the material remains overly stagebound (perhaps due to its status as a very early talkie); while a few outdoor battle scenes are included (with fine cinematography by Benjamin Kline), the bulk of the film’s action takes place within the officers’ dugouts, and consists simply of dialogue. Speaking of dialogue, the screenplay includes an extraordinary amount of stereotypically polite British banter about the war, which one can only assume is characteristic of how officers at the time might have spoken with each other; sample exchanges include the following:

“It all seems rather silly, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does — rather.”

“It’s all a damn nuisance, but I suppose it’s necessary.”
“I suppose it is.”

That damned, silly, necessary nuisance of a war, indeed! Meanwhile, in the midst of such civilized discussion, we witness a quietly powerful character study of a man (Clive is simply brilliant) struggling to reconcile the reality of his daily lived experiences with the stalwart persona he must maintain, for the sake of all his men. He lives in terror of the rumors he’s sure must be circulating about him (notably, that he’s taken to drinking at all hours of the day), but the storyline surprises us in its ultimate revelations about Clive’s reputation.

Viewers willing to sit patiently through what may be the most “talky”, least-action-filled war film ever made will be rewarded by numerous instances of quiet authenticity. My favorite scene is one in which the seasoned Maclaren (affectionately known as “Uncle”) and the green, gung-ho Manners are about to go up into battle; Maclaren reads from Alice in Wonderland while enjoining Manners to use these precious final moments to think about anything at all other than their imminent task. Less successful are periodic snippets of “comedic relief” provided by the company’s clueless cook (Charles K. Gerrard) and a rotund lieutenant (Billy Bevan) who seems resolutely determined to care more about his next meal than the chaos surrounding him. However, it’s moments like all of these, taken together, which ultimately help viewers to understand the complex psychology behind warfare, as these men prepare themselves in a variety of ways to face truly unspeakable horrors.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Colin Clive as Captain Stanhope
  • Ian Maclaren as Lieutenant Osborne
  • An incisive, literate screenplay
  • Benjamin Kline’s cinematography

Must See?
No, though it’s certainly worth a look. Listed as a Sleeper in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Funnyman (1967)

“It doesn’t mean anything. I want it to mean something — anything!”

Synopsis:
A comedian (Peter Bonerz) struggles to find both romantic and creative meaning in his life.

Genres:

Review:
John Korty’s second feature-length outing — after his uniquely satisfying debut film The Crazy-Quilt (1966) — was this highly experimental character study starring Peter Bonerz (then active in the Bay Area improv troupe known as The Committee). Unfortunately, the non-linear, improvisational storyline (co-written by Bonerz and Korty) fails to engage us on anything other than a superficial level; the central protagonist’s quest for satisfaction in both his career and his love life never really sustains our interest, largely because we’re not emotionally invested in this likable but self-absorbed character. As the film opens, we see that Bonerz’ “Perry” has recently broken up with a long-time girlfriend (though we don’t learn why); throughout the course of the movie, he sleeps with various women who present themselves to him, but learn next to nothing about any of them. Meanwhile, we see Perry’s resentment at having to bastardize his creative talents by contributing ideas to a marketing firm — which ironically leads to one of the film’s most engaging and inventive sequences, as we see stop-motion advertisements Bonerz has dreamed up for bug spray; one can’t help thinking of Korty’s later work on the enormously inventive Twice Upon a Time (1983).

When Perry throws a tantrum and demands to be given a chance to put on a solo show, we’re curious to see what he’ll come up with — but the result is imminently forgettable. Meanwhile, the rest of the film turns into essentially a meandering road trip, as Bonerz leaves the city (to where, we’ve never sure) and encounters a variety of diverse individuals. I won’t say more, at risk of giving away too much of the plot, but suffice it to say that the final half-hour or so consists of a series of intriguingly cinéma vérité encounters without nearly enough narrative context to sustain them. Ultimately, the entire affair comes across as simply self-indulgent — which is not to say it doesn’t hold interest on some level. Korty is a strong enough director that even his overly experimental, New Wave-inspired cinematic palette — including frequent shifts from b&w cinematography to various tinted hues — can be forgiven as simply an attempt to bring a fresh perspective to the proceedings. However, while The Crazy-Quilt is a hidden must-see gem (buy a copy from Korty himself!), Funnyman is only worth seeking out if you have a strong interest in the early development of Korty’s unusual oeuvre.

Note: Bonerz had supporting roles in a few big-name films after this — including What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice? (1969) (not listed in Peary’s book), Medium Cool (1969), and Catch-22 (1970) — and was the coke-sniffing psychiatrist in Serial (1980); his best-known role was probably as Dr. Jerry Robinson on “The Bob Newhart Show”. However, the bulk of his career has been spent as a director; see his listing at IMDb for more details.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Creative incorporation of animation
  • Peter Bonerz as Perry

Must See?
No, but it’s worth a look. Listed as a Sleeper in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Hobson’s Choice (1954)

“My brain and your hands will make a working partnership!”

Synopsis:
The ambitious eldest daughter (Brenda de Banzie) of a patriarchal shoe store owner (Charles Laughton) woos her father’s best employee (John Mills) into marrying her and setting up their own shop, much to the consternation of Laughton and her two class-conscious sisters (Daphne Anderson and Prunella Scales).

Genres:

Review:
It’s actually somewhat astonishing to be reminded that this classic comedy by director David Lean (one of only two in his oeuvre) is based on a stage play, given how utterly un-stagebound it feels. Lean’s masterful direction opens up the story to show us a pre-Industrial England in which feminism was just beginning to emerge, and women like Brenda de Banzie’s Maggie were truly unsung mavericks. Indeed, Hobson’s Choice is not only a droll comedic delight, but a notable feminist film, in addition to offering a refreshing skewering of class relations. To that end, Laughton’s Henry Hobson is a genuine paradigm of his time: he’s a self-satisfied, condescending patriarch who believes his position in life (as both a father and a business owner) provides him with de facto entitlement to boss others around, and to spend his own time lolling about in a local pub.

The storyline centers on Hobson’s delicious come-uppance — with the title itself ultimately referring to the fact that Hobson really has no choice in mending his ways. Interestingly, while he’s the clear antagonist of the story, we can’t help feeling a bit of compassion for him, given how inevitable his downfall is — and how clueless he is about its coming. Meanwhile, de Banzie’s Maggie makes for a most unlikely protagonist, but that’s precisely the point: from the very beginning, she’s posited (by Laughton) as someone too old and too plain to marry or make anything more of her life than what she has; she spends the rest of the storyline proving him wrong. It helps that de Banzie herself is a somewhat unknown cinematic face: her only other notable (supporting) film roles were as a female baddie in Hitchcock’s second version of The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956), and as Laurence Olivier’s wife in The Entertainer (1960). This makes her emergence as an unexpectedly strong force-to-be-reckoned-with all the more pleasantly surprising.

Peary nominates Laughton as one of the Best Actors of the Year for his work in this film, and it does remain one among many of his impeccable performances; no one was better at embodying grotesque disdain than Laughton. John Mills is equally delightful (if unexpectedly cast) in the pivotal role as Willie Mossop, a gifted yet intellectually challenged shoemaker who slowly comes into his own as a man of means. Every scene he’s in is delightful, but my favorite is probably the one showcasing the moments before and after his wedding night (with the night itself, naturally, cut out); with help from Lean, Mills masterfully conveys everything we need to know about this critical facet of his shifting relationship with de Banzie. Also worth pointing out is Malcolm Arnold’s instantly hummable score, which seems as much a part of the film experience as the visuals and storyline. This one is a true delight, and should be seen by all film fanatics at least once.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Brenda de Banzie as Maggie Hobson
  • Charles Laughton as Henry Hobson (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actors of the Year in his Alternate Oscars)
  • John Mills as Willie Mossop
  • Fine direction by Lean
  • The effective opening sequence
  • Malcolm Arnold’s jaunty score

Must See?
Yes, as a most enjoyable dramatic comedy. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

Links:

Animated Disney Round-Up

Now that I’ve finished watching all the pre-1986 Disney animated features listed or reviewed in Peary’s GFTFF, it seemed like a good time to provide a summative rundown of which ones are must-see:

That’s nine out of thirteen titles — plenty of must-see viewing for film fanatics to enjoy! Feel free to disagree with my choices by posting your own opinion.

Just for the record, the following are all the pre-1986 Disney animated features NOT included in Peary’s GFTFF; as far as I know, none should be considered “Missing Titles”, though all are likely of interest to true Disney fans:

  • Saludos Amigos (1942)
  • Make Mine Music (1946)
  • Fun and Fancy Free (1947)
  • Melody Time (1948)
  • The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)
  • Alice in Wonderland (1951)
  • The Sword in the Stone (1963)
  • The Jungle Book (1967)
  • The Aristocats (1970)
  • Robin Hood (1973)
  • The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)
  • The Rescuers (1977)
  • The Fox and the Hound (1981)
  • The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

Finally, the following is a list of post-1986 Disney animated features, along with my tentative recommendations about which should be considered “Must See” (though I really need to go back and rewatch them to verify, and many I’ve never seen):

  • Oliver & Company (1988)
  • The Little Mermaid (1989) — MUST SEE
  • The Rescuers Down Under (1990)
  • Beauty and the Beast (1991) — MUST SEE
  • Aladdin (1992) — MUST SEE
  • The Lion King (1994) — MUST SEE
  • Pocahontas (1995)
  • The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
  • Hercules (1997)
  • Mulan (1998)
  • Tarzan (1999)
  • Fantasia 2000 (2000) — MUST SEE
  • Dinosaur (2000)
  • The Emperor’s New Groove (2000)
  • Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
  • Lilo & Stitch (2002) — MUST SEE
  • Treasure Planet (2002)
  • Brother Bear (2003)
  • Home on the Range (2004)
  • Chicken Little (2005)
  • Meet the Robinsons (2007)
  • Bolt (2008)
  • The Princess and the Frog (2009)
  • Tangled (2010)
  • Winnie the Pooh (2011)

Peter Pan (1953)

“That corner house over there is the home of the Darling family — and Peter Pan chose this particular house because there were people here who believed in him.”

Synopsis:
A forever-boy named Peter Pan (Bobby Driscoll) flies into the nursery of the Darling children — Wendy (Kathryn Beaumont), John (Paul Collins), and Michael (Tommy Luske) — and takes them to Never Land, where they battle against evil Captain Hook (Hans Conreid).

Genres:

Review:
Walt Disney’s animated version of J.M. Barrie’s play-turned novel is beloved by many, but ultimately remains one of his lesser classics. With the exception of the catchy tune “You Can Fly!”, the songs aren’t very memorable, and the animation — while representative of the fine work Disney Studios produced — isn’t all that distinguished. What hurts the film the most, however, is its disjointed storyline, which flits around through various scenarios (including a typically offensive one involving “redskins”; see IMDb’s message boards for voluminous discussion on this), and simply never feels focused. In addition, we’re not quite sure who to be rooting for: while Peter Pan would be the obvious choice, he’s too much of a scampish scoundrel to feel much sympathy for; and though Wendy is a lovely character, she’s not sufficiently developed to be viewed as a central protagonist.

Other characters, meanwhile, are simply disappointing and/or ill-conceived: as Richard Scheib of the SF, Fantasy, and Horror website puts it, “the Lost Boys look… like anthropomorphized fluffy bunnies and Smee [Hook's right-hand-man] looks like he has strayed in from a casting call for one of the Seven Dwarves.” Meanwhile, Hook (wonderfully voiced by Hans Conreid) is too buffoonish to represent a real threat; his interactions with both Peter and “The Crocodile” rely far too heavily on tiresome slapstick. The most intriguing character in the film by a long shot is Tinkerbell, who never says a word, but says PLENTY with her expressions, body language, and actions.

Other than Tinkerbell, the most interesting aspect of this film for me (as a mom of two little kids) was the fact that young Michael Darling wears pink the entire time. This prompted me to do a bit of research, and I came upon this short article, which states: “Pink and blue arrived, along with other pastels, as colors for babies in the mid-19th century, yet the two colors were not promoted as gender signifiers until just before World War I—and even then, it took time for popular culture to sort things out.” Since the original Peter Pan was written (and takes place) near the turn of the century, this choice makes sense.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Typically fine Disney animation

  • The refreshingly feisty character of Tinkerbell

Must See?
No, though naturally it holds some cultural interest (it was the highest grossing film of 1953), and is a must for Disney fans.

Links:

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (1977)

[Note: The following review is of a non-Peary title; click here to read more.]

“I like him. He treats me like I’m a real person.”

Synopsis:
A mentally disturbed teenager (Kathleen Quinlan) is placed by her concerned parents (Ben Piazza and Lorraine Gary) in an asylum, where she works with a compassionate psychologist (Bibi Andersson) hoping to help her overcome her delusions.

Genres:

  • Kathleen Quinlan Films
  • Literature Adaptation
  • Mental Illness

Review:
Kathleen Quinlan’s memorable performance in this adaptation of Joanne Greenberg’s bestselling semi-autobiographical novel is reason enough to label it a Missing Title from Peary’s book. 23-year-old Quinlan convincingly portrays a fiercely independent teenager (Deborah) beset by mental turmoil, who slowly allows herself to trust in the guidance of her new therapist (Bibi Andersson); this situation sounds ripe for cliche, but it’s handled with a remarkable level of honesty and respect, and bolstered by fine, nuanced performances from both actresses. Indeed, the film itself remains a surprisingly welcome addition to the sub-genre of movies taking place within mental asylums. Other than its unrealistically happy ending (and an inevitable compression of events taking place over several years), most of what we see happening on screen feels refreshingly authentic. We witness a case of horrific abuse, and tentative friendships forming between the inmates (who are likely to be cordial with each other one minute, then unaccountably violent the next). We also see moments of genuine compassion on the part of the caretakers — most noticeably in the minor character of “McPherson”, who handles one particular scene (undressing Quinlan from her restraints) so naturally that you can’t help believing in him as a real character.

Much has been made about the assessment of Deborah as schizophrenic, a label the character herself uses several times throughout the screenplay; while this would appear at first glance to be a correct diagnosis (given that Deborah is plagued by unwanted voices and visions), experts ultimately determined that she probably suffered from extreme depression and somatization disorder rather than schizophrenia (which would explain why she could attempt to heal herself without the assistance of medications). Regardless, her intrusive visions are nicely handled by director Anthony Page; we see her slipping into her alternate reality at strategic times, but this is never overplayed. Overall, nearly everything about this film worked for me — thus, I’m labeling it a Missing Title, and recommending that film fanatics check it out.

Note: Susan Tyrrell is nicely cast as one of the inmates; that was a fine, no-brainer choice. Watch also for Sylvia Sidney as an inmate Deborah becomes friendly with.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Kathleen Quinlan as Deborah
  • Bibi Andersson as Dr. Fried
  • Susan Tyrrell as Lee
  • Norman Alden as McPherson
  • An effective cinematic portrayal of mental disturbance

Must See?
Yes, simply for Quinlan’s break-through performance.

Categories

Links:

Lady and the Tramp (1955)

“Remember this, Pigeon: a human heart has only so much room for love and affection. When a baby moves in, the dog moves out.”

Synopsis:
A beloved pet dog named Lady (Barbara Luddy) feels slighted by her owners (Peggy Lee and Lee Millar) when they have a baby, and embarks on a series of adventures of with a stray dog named Tramp (Larry Roberts).

Genres:

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary notes that while the animation in this “most likeable Disney animated feature” is “not that ambitious and there are few surprises in the storyline”, the “relationship between Lady and Tramp” — who make “an appealing couple” — is “sweet”, and the “ending is pretty suspenseful”. Peary’s review just about sums up my own sentiments about the film, which remains a modest yet enjoyable minor Disney classic, one sure to appeal to kids once they’re old enough to handle its one truly distressing scene (in which a likeable animal appears to be seriously hurt). Meanwhile, all film fanatics will surely be curious to see “one of the cinema’s most romantic courtship scenes”, as the lead characters “end up eating opposite ends of the same strand of spaghetti and their mouths draw closer together for their first kiss”. However, despite its historical relevance as Disney’s first animated feature based on an original story (and first Cinemascope feature), this one remains simply strongly recommended rather than must-see.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Fine animation
  • Peggy Lee’s creative songs
  • The well-known “spaghetti courtship” sequence

Must See?
No, but it’s certainly recommended.

Links:

Smallest Show on Earth, The (1957)

“We’ve got to make the Bijou the best little cinema in this part of the country!”

Synopsis:
When a writer (Bill Travers) and his wife (Virginia McKenna) inherit a rundown cinema (the Bijou) previously manned by three aging employees — a doorman (Bernard Miles), a ticket-taker (Margaret Rutherford), and a tippling projectionist (Peter Sellers) — they attempt to turn it into a going concern in order to convince their competitor (Francis De Wolff) to buy them out.

Genres:

Review:
Film fanatics will surely be inherently drawn to the subject matter of this comedy about a young couple trying to revive an ailing independent cinema house (which shows nothing but westerns!). Unfortunately, while there are some genuinely charming moments scattered throughout (and one definitely gains a renewed appreciation for the skill involved in running a movie theater), the storyline itself never really takes off, making this a good-natured situation comedy with much potential but too little pay-off. Once the central conflict is established (McKenna and Travers must convince De Wolff that they’re serious in their commitment to running the Bijou), all that’s left is to watch our intrepid cast attempt to make a go of things; but their antics are mildly amusing at best. Meanwhile, none of the three “elderly” characters — played by cinematic favorites Sellers, Rutherford, and a nearly-indistinguishable Miles — are sufficiently developed (or given enough screentime), and the understated denouement is surprisingly discomfiting.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • An amusing look at the challenges of running an independent cinema house

Must See?
No, though it’s worth a look, and will likely be endearing to most film fanatics, given its subject matter. Listed as a Sleeper in the back of Peary’s book.

Links: