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Category: Response Reviews

My comments on Peary’s reviews in Guide for the Film Fanatic (Simon & Schuster, 1986).

Of Human Bondage (1934)

Of Human Bondage (1934)

“There’s usually one who loves, and one who is loved.”

Synopsis:
A club-footed medical student (Leslie Howard) falls obsessively in love with a cold, calculating waitress (Bette Davis) who repeatedly leaves him for other men.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alan Hale Films
  • Bette Davis Films
  • Femmes Fatales
  • Frances Dee Films
  • John Cromwell Films
  • Leslie Howard Films
  • Obsessive Love

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary argues that this adaptation of the second half of W. Somerset Maugham’s thrice-filmed novel — directed by John Cromwell — is “static, claustrophobic, and uninterestingly acted by Howard”:

… but that it’s “worth watching” as “the film which really launched Davis’s career”.

In Alternate Oscars, Peary names Davis Best Actress of the Year for her performance as the “mean and menacing” Mildred, a “cold-hearted, money-loving opportunist who treats Philip like dirt” — or, in the words of New York Times film critic Mourdant Hall, “a heartless little ingrate”. In Alternate Oscars, Peary provides more detailed information on how and why Davis came to take on this role, which “no major Hollywood actress would consider playing” — she apparently “wasn’t concerned about image because no one really knew who she was after twenty-one pictures”, and she “figured [this was] her one shot at stardom”.

Peary writes that this role “made such an impression because it was conceived and played in such an original manner” by Davis, given that her Mildred “isn’t especially pretty… or alluring” and “isn’t smart or knowledgeable”. He points out that she “is not a vamp, she is just cheap, stupid, and shallow” — which is precisely why Howard’s relentless obsession with her is so fascinating.

As Peary argues, Philip “hates himself for being a cripple… [and] Mildred is his punishment”. Indeed, Davis’s Mildred is a unique variation on a femme fatale: she’s clearly Philip’s undoing, yet he’s almost entirely responsible for their continued dysfunctional “relationship”. She could genuinely care less about him, but — almost to her own surprise — he continues to make himself available to her time and again; and so, as an inveterate manipulator, she takes easy advantage. Theirs is a morbidly fascinating dynamic — not one I find pleasant to watch, but certainly one film fanatics should see at least once.

Note: Peary ends his review by stating he’s “never seen a film in which so many letters are read” — really? That’s somehow hard to imagine.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Bette Davis as Mildred

Must See?
Yes, for Davis’s Oscar-nominated performance.

Categories

  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Categories

Links:

Breakfast Club, The (1985)

Breakfast Club, The (1985)

“Everyone’s home life is unsatisfying: if it wasn’t, people would live with their parents forever.”

Synopsis:
A group of diverse teens — a privileged preppy girl (Molly Ringwald), a rebel (Judd Nelson), a jock (Emilio Estevez), a nerd (Anthony Michael Hall), and a recluse (Ally Sheedy) — form unexpected bonds during an extended day of detention at school, overseen by the tyrannical Mr. Vernon (Paul Gleason).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Friendship
  • High School
  • Misfits
  • Teenagers

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary argues that writer-director John Hughes’ “follow-up to Sixteen Candles” (“nick-named ‘The Little Chill'”) is “essentially a mock encounter session involving five teenagers”, who “reveal themselves through their volatile actions and wrenching confessions” as “tough exteriors disappear, social barriers crumble, [and] deep secrets are revealed about their troubles at home”. He points out that “each kid turns out to be soft at the core and sympathetic”, and notes that “all suffer from the same problem: parents” (!!). He writes that while Hughes’ “direction is too stagy”, his “dialogue is perceptive and witty, and also realistic enough to have made the film a hit with teenagers”. (Indeed, while the movie was popular upon its release, its cult status has grown to enormous proportions since then, with its Facebook page receiving nearly 2 million “likes”.) Peary notes that “it’s obvious that Hughes likes teenagers and believes them to be smart and funny”; he further points out that “the young cast excels”, with “even Nelson” — who “got a lot of bad press, looks too old, and is stuck with most of the film’s cliches” — “fine in the largest role”.

Peary’s assessment just about sums up the merits of this guiltily enjoyable teen classic — though he neglects to mention the memorable use of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” as the theme song (it was written specifically for the movie). Interestingly, Hughes was asked to write a play based upon his film (to be performed by high schoolers), and this may be the best way to view the material: as a morality play, one with an overly-convenient resolution (as Peary points out, “the ending is too rushed” and “we aren’t sufficiently prepared for the two couplings that take place”), but which packs a punch precisely because it’s so strategically scripted. Hughes’ genius was in capturing the types of stereotypes and concerns that plague teenagers (who often feel isolated by their differences) — and then allowing his characters to work through these concerns in a cathartic deconstruction. It’s the stuff of (troubled) teens’ fantasies, and clearly explains the film’s cult status years later.

Note: In addition to Sixteen Candles (1985), John Hughes wrote and directed several other cult favorites — including Weird Science, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986), and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987); indeed, despite variable output in his later years, Hughes himself (who died from a heart attack in 2009 at age of 59) has a considerable cult following.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Fine performances by the young ensemble cast



  • An often witty and incisive script by Hughes

Must See?
Yes, as a cult favorite.

Categories

  • Cult Movie

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Trading Places (1983)

Trading Places (1983)

“Breeding, Randolph — same as racehorses; it’s in the blood.”

Synopsis:
Corrupt millionaires Randolph (Ralph Bellamy) and Mortimer (Don Ameche) Duke plot to reverse the fortunes of a hustling black con-artist (Eddie Murphy) and a privileged white stock broker (Dan Aykroyd) — all for the sake of a one-dollar bet about nature versus nurture.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Big Business
  • Comedy
  • Dan Aykroyd Films
  • Denholm Elliott Films
  • Don Ameche Films
  • Eddie Murphy Films
  • Homeless
  • John Landis Films
  • Living Nightmare
  • Millionaires
  • Race Relations
  • Ralph Bellamy Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that this “very funny modern-day Prince and the Pauper variation” — directed by John Landis, and scripted by Timothy Harris and Herschel Weingrod — remains a “sweet-tempered screwball comedy in the finest tradition of those memorable social satires of the thirties and forties”. He points out that Landis “borrows from Capra (the triumph of the little man over rich, corrupt robber barons) [and] Preston Sturges (a poor man’s fortunes can change overnight), and adds a dash of absurd humor that is characteristic of his own comedies and the work of his two stars”. He notes that while the film is ostensibly about the triumph of “environment over heredity”, it is “actually about loyalty, faith, and respect within friendships”, which are “the major determining factors in how a person winds up”.

The cast members here are all at the top of their game. Murphy (early in his career) is both infectiously charismatic and consistently hilarious, while Aykroyd is appropriately priggish as his entitled yet ultimately sympathetic foil. Supporting the comedic protagonists are Jamie Lee Curtis (playing an archetypal “kind-hearted prostitute”), who projects just the right mix of moxie and casual sexiness; Denholm Elliott (as the distressed butler bullied into turning against his employer, Aykroyd), who invests his minor role with significance; and Bellamy and Ameche (how fun it is to see these veterans on screen together!), who project hiss-worthy villainy. [Kudos to the screenwriters for not shying away from presenting their venally racist attitudes.] Despite the silly appearance of men in gorilla suits late in the game (a personal pet peeve with comedies), Trading Places remains a “true crowd-pleaser” and a cult favorite, one you’ll almost certainly enjoy revisiting.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Fine performances by the entire cast


  • Excellent use of authentic Philadelphia locales

  • A smart, witty script

Must See?
Yes, as a cult comedy favorite.

Categories

  • Cult Movie

Links:

Grapes of Wrath, The (1940)

Grapes of Wrath, The (1940)

“Seems like the government’s got more interest in a dead man than a live one.”

Synopsis:
When Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) is released from prison, he finds his family — including Ma (Jane Darwell), Pa (Russell Simpson), Uncle John (Frank Darien), Grandpa (Charley Grapewin), Grandma (Zeffie Tilbury), brother Al (O.Z. Whitehead), pregnant sister Rosasharn (Dorris Bowdon), and brother-in-law Connie (Eddie Quillan) — ousted from their property and headed to California; but jobs picking produce are both scarce and poorly paid, and the family struggles to survive.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Depression Era
  • Henry Fonda Films
  • Historical Drama
  • John Carradine Films
  • John Ford Films
  • John Qualen Films
  • Labor Movement
  • Road Trip
  • Unemployment
  • Ward Bond Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary accurately refers to this John Ford-directed classic as a “superb, stirring adaptation of John Steinbeck’s novel” — a film which isn’t quite “radical”, yet (despite Ford’s conservative personal politics) manages to be “one of the most progressive [movies] that Hollywood has ever produced”. In Alternate Oscars, Peary names The Grapes of Wrath Best Picture of the Year (in place of Hitchcock’s Rebecca), and asserts that “Ford directs the film with respect for Steinbeck’s story and affection for his downtrodden but resilient characters”. He notes that while Ford is “usually one of the most blatantly sentimental of directors”, he “refrained this time from manipulating us into crying, even during the funereal scenes, because the Joads don’t cry then, either, and instead get strength from adversity”. However, Ford certainly is capable of stirring our emotions — as during the opening scenes, when the Joads and their neighbors are being driven off their land; or “when he shows Ma throwing out mementos, keeping only those… for which she has a special fondness”; or — one of my all-time favorite lump-inducing scenes — “when a kindly waitress sells Pa a five-cent candy for his two youngest kids, assuring the proud man that they sell two for a penny”.

Peary points out that “Ford worked closely with cinematographer Gregg Toland, whose images are beautiful”: there are “magnificent shots of Tom moving across the landscape, of beautifully lit faces, of characters in close-up speaking powerful words”; film critic Andrew Sarris referred to Ford as “America’s cinematic poet laureate”, and the imagery in this film (see stills below) provides ample evidence of this assertion. Peary ends his Alternate Oscars review by noting simply that “the film succeeds on all levels” — including the “fine, simple score” by Alfred Newman; Nunnally Johnson’s “terrific script” (which Steinbeck himself approved of); and excellent performances by the “impeccably cast” supporting players — including the “unforgettable” “John Carradine as Casy, John Qualen as Muley, and Charley Grapewin as Grandpa”, as well as “heavy-set Jane Darwell, an Irish actress [who] made the part [of Ma] her own”.

But it’s Fonda’s performance as Tom Joad which truly grounds the film. In Alternate Oscars, Peary names Henry Fonda Best Actor of the Year for his work here, and I agree with this assessment. Following his impressive turn as the title character in Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln (1939), Fonda gives an impassioned, nuanced performance as an ex-con who, during the beginning of the movie, “is neither emotional nor sentimental” and who “minds his own business”, yet by the end of the film has “come alive”, “become more expressive”, and turned politically “subversive”. Tom’s evolving understanding of labor conditions in America — inspired by his friend, former-preacher Casy (John Carradine), and informed by what he’s seen in dismal labor camps across the country — eventually radicalizes him, giving him a cause truly worth fighting for. His closing speech — as he explains to his Ma why he must leave his family for a while — is a fitting ending to this powerful tale of humanity at both its worst and its best:

Maybe it’s like Casy says. A fellow ain’t got a soul of his own, just a little piece of a big soul, the one big soul that belongs to everybody.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Henry Fonda as Tom Joad
  • Jane Darwell as Ma Joad
  • John Carradine as “Preacher” Casy
  • Fine supporting performances by a cast of mostly “unknowns”

  • A hard-hitting portrayal of Depression-Era America

  • Gregg Toland’s incomparably beautiful cinematography

  • Poetic direction by Ford
  • Nunnally Johnson’s script

Must See?
Yes, as a genuine classic worthy of multiple viewings.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Bicycle Thief, The / Bicycle Thieves (1948)

Bicycle Thief, The / Bicycle Thieves (1948)

“I have to find that bicycle.”

Synopsis:
An unemployed father (Lamberto Maggiorani) in post-WWII Rome secures a job hanging movie posters, on the contingency that he possess a bicycle — but his happiness quickly turns to sorrow when his bicycle is stolen on his first day of work, and he and his son (Enzo Staiola) search the city in vain for it.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Father and Child
  • Italian Films
  • Living Nightmare
  • Unemployment
  • Vittorio De Sica Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary notes that the “simple storyline” of “Vittorio De Sica’s classic of post-WWII Italian neo-realism” — “loved by moviegoers, revered by critics” — has “some special moments”, but he argues that “perhaps De Sica is too cruel, not just to his hero but to his audience as well”. However, his specific criticisms about De Sica’s “cruelty” don’t quite hold true: he questions why Maggiorani “always run[s] at half-speed”, yet De Sica simply depicts him attempting in vain to catch up with a quickly-moving, darting bicycle, or maneuvering through thick crowds; and while Peary writes that “De Sica has the gall to include a scene in which the unhappy man takes out pencil and paper to figure out how much money he would have made per month if the bike hadn’t been stolen”, I view this scene as a critical element of Maggiorani’s explanation to his son about why they must remain diligent in their seemingly elusive search for the bike. Later in his review, Peary writes that what he finds “more impressive today than the story of a man retrieving his bike are the shots of postwar Rome” — most noticeably “the crowds” who appear in numerous settings across the city; he notes that “from watching these crowds… we learn the character of the city” and “come to realize that a lone man with a small boy doesn’t stand a chance”.

Like so many other budding young film fanatics, I first saw The Bicycle Thief (a.k.a. The Bicycle Thieves, which many argue is the more accurate title) in a film appreciation class many years ago, and its devastation was so thorough that I put off re-watching it for over two decades. Yet now that I’ve finally viewed it for a second time, it’s clear to me that De Sica deserves accolades for presenting his country’s post-war devastation in such brutal, unflinching terms: we may not enjoy witnessing the suffering of Italy’s citizens, but a neo-realist perspective was ultimately the best choice for depicting the challenges of their existence. As many critics have pointed out, neo-realism isn’t a form of documentary film-making — rather, it’s a highly strategic cinematic perspective that employs the documentary-like use of realistic settings, non-actors, and meaningful, true-to-life scenarios, to powerful effect. Ultimately, The Bicycle Thief isn’t an easy film to sit through, but it remains an essential part of our cinematic history — one which all film fanatics should experience at least once; its images and scenes will likely linger in your memory for years.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Lamberto Maggiorani as Ricci
  • Enzo Staiola as Bruno
  • A remarkably authentic portrait of post-WWII Rome

Must See?
Yes, as a classic of early Italian cinema.

Categories

  • Foreign Gem
  • Genuine Classic

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

“To 1966 — the year One!”

Synopsis:
A pregnant woman (Mia Farrow) fears for her baby’s safety as her husband (John Cassavetes) becomes increasingly chummy with their strange new neighbors (Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Elisha Cook Films
  • Horror Films
  • John Cassavetes Films
  • Mia Farrow Films
  • “No One Believes Me!”
  • Possession
  • Pregnancy
  • Ralph Bellamy Films
  • Roman Polanski Films
  • Ruth Gordon Films
  • Satanists

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary seems less-than-enamored with this “big hit” by director Roman Polanski, based on a bestselling horror novel by Ira Levin about “satanists and the devil’s child”. While conceding that “on some levels” the film is “quite enjoyable”, he refers to it as “glossy schlock”, and argues that it’s “not as scary as it is uncomfortable to watch”. He asserts that “it becomes upsetting seeing Farrow not only look pale due to her unusual pregnancy but feel confused and constantly tormented”; and despite noting that Polanski “makes spooky use of the setting and injects some morbid humor”, he argues that “it’s really an ugly film”. While I can’t help agreeing with Peary’s assertion that Rosemary’s Baby is a difficult film to watch — perhaps especially for women of child-bearing age — Peary’s review otherwise seems unfairly harsh, failing to acknowledge the true genius of Polanski’s vision (which, at least narratively speaking, is remarkably faithful to Levin’s novel).

What arguably makes Rosemary’s Baby so powerful (and, counter to Peary’s claim, so scary) is the authenticity of its setting and situation. At a (pre-Lib) time when women had not yet come into their own — a time when a housewife’s most cherished dream was [supposed to be] having a baby — Farrow’s yearning for a healthy pregnancy would naturally be all-consuming; indeed, nearly every scene of the film revolves around either Farrow’s desire for a baby, or some aspect of how her pregnancy is proceeding, to an extent I can’t recall in any other movie. Meanwhile, to have one’s husband wavering in his devotion (or at least his attention and loyalty) is perhaps the ultimate fear for a vulnerable mother-to-be, at a time when her “nesting instinct” and desire for safety and security is stronger than ever — which makes Cassavetes’ gradual transformation from loving and playful husband to an increasingly distracted and self-absorbed heel come across as especially harsh.

Each element of this masterfully constructed psychological horror film “works” — from William Fraker’s cinematography, to Polanski’s unusual camera placements (he often films scenes through doorways), to fine use of sound and music, to judicious set designs and strategic use of outdoor New York locales, to the perfect casting of each character. Farrow, of course, gives the film’s stand-out performance: her eventual paranoia is palpable (could anyone else have inhabited this role in quite the same way?). But I’m actually almost as fond of Cassavetes (with his devilish arched eyebrows) in the critical part of her self-absorbed husband, a man whose every statement and sentiment is eventually suspect. Meanwhile, kooky Gordon (in hideously over-the-top makeup and outfits) and Blackmer (deceptively genteel) are scarily believable as elderly neighbors who hide their diabolical beliefs behind an air of nosy normalcy. Other supporting roles are equally well-handled — including Victoria Vetri as a grateful former-druggie whose new friendship with Rosemary is cut tragically short, to Ralph Bellamy as the “esteemed” doctor who tries to reassure Rosemary that her painful pregnancy is “normal”.

Another key to the power of Rosemary’s Baby is how Polanski takes his time building tension throughout the suspense-filled narrative; we’re allowed ample opportunity to witness Farrow and Cassavetes’ happiness in their new apartment before hints are revealed about the terror that’s to come. Equally effective is the fact that we’re never sure exactly how much each character (Cassavetes in particular) knows, and from what point; rewatching the film allows one to appreciate the layers of nuance and ambiguity Polanski strategically inserts throughout just about every scene. For instance, is the look Cassavetes gives to the African-American elevator operator near the beginning of the movie significant or merely incidental? Is Elisha Cook (the real estate agent who shows the couple their new apartment) “in” on the proceedings, or an innocent bystander? Are the accidents that befall Cassavetes’ acting rival (Tony Curtis, heard in voice only) and Farrow’s best friend (Maurice Evans) coincidental, or nefariously instigated? And, despite the apparent lack of ambiguity in the disturbing final scene, we still can’t help wondering: is what we’re seeing really “real”, or simply a figment of Farrow’s by now psychotically disturbed imagination?

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Mia Farrow as Rosemary
  • John Cassavetes as Guy
  • Ruth Gordon as Minnie Castavet
  • Sidney Blackmer as Roman Castavet
  • William Fraker’s cinematography
  • Good use of locale shooting in New York
  • Effective direction by Polanski
  • Plenty of deserved chills and horrors
  • Chrisopher Komeda’s score

Must See?
Yes, as a cult horror classic.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Genuine Classic

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Carrie (1976)

Carrie (1976)

“Sin never dies.”

Synopsis:
A painfully shy teenager (Sissy Spacek) with an abusive, religiously fanatic mother (Piper Laurie) is invited to the prom by a boy (William Katt) whose girlfriend (Amy Irving) feels sorry for Carrie (Spacek); but an evil bully (Nancy Allen), with the help of her boyfriend (John Travolta), is determined to ensure that Carrie’s special night is ruined.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Amy Irving Films
  • Brian De Palma Films
  • Horror Films
  • John Travolta Films
  • Misfits
  • Nancy Allen Films
  • Piper Laurie Films
  • Revenge
  • Sissy Spacek Films
  • Stephen King Adaptations
  • Supernatural Powers

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary begins his review of this “enjoyably impressive horror film” — directed by Brian De Palma, and based on Stephen King’s debut novel — by noting that “no one is better at playing shy, lonely, troubled girls than Sissy Spacek”; to that end, in Alternate Oscars, he names Spacek Best Actress of the Year for Carrie, arguing that she “gave what remains the best performance in either teen pictures or teen horror films” (though he concedes that “she had no hope of winning an Oscar because she was a virtual unknown appearing in a film that was a combination of two genres always ignored by the Academy”). In GFTFF, he writes that while King’s “Carrie isn’t that sympathetic”, “Spacek puts us firmly on her side — we identify with her depression, her happiness when invited to the prom, and her need for revenge when the one happy night of life is ruined by her mother and schoolmates”. Indeed, we feel so sorry for Spacek — and so proud of her strength in finally standing up to her crazy mother by going to the prom — that the film’s ultimate outcomes are especially distressing. Carrie isn’t a horror-movie monster we can’t wait to see die; she’s a troubled, flesh-and-blood protagonist we genuinely care about from beginning to end, despite her penchant for wreaking terror through her newly discovered “talent” of telekinesis.

Spacek’s performance is undeniably the critical element that grounds the film, elevating it from a finely crafted horror outing to a true (albeit warped) coming-of-age classic. Spacek is so iconically “Carrie” that it’s nearly impossible to imagine anyone else in the role (though we’ll soon get to see how Chloe Grace Moretz does in director Kimberly Peirce’s 2013 re-visioning of the story). But equally key are the fine supporting performances across the board — from Allen’s slimily prissy uber-bitch, to Irving’s conscience-stricken peer, to Buckley’s fiercely protective and maternal gym teacher, to Laurie’s genuinely terrifying religious fanatic. Speaking of Laurie, I think a case could be made that a film set entirely inside Carrie’s house would be an effective horror flick in its own right; the image of Laurie standing silently behind a semi-closed door as Carrie returns home after the bloody prom night is one of the most bone-chilling in cinematic history — not least because of what it implies about the film’s real basis for [domestic] horror. (Special kudos belong to set designer Jack Fisk, Spacek’s real-life husband, for turning their house into a candle-lit den of horrors.)

De Palma’s film is perhaps most unusual for the range of tones he employs, as he shifts repeatedly between teen comedy (viz. the wacky appearance of P.J. Soles and Edie McClurg as two of Carrie’s classmates, or the scene in which three boys try on tuxes for the prom); satire (i.e., Allen and Travolta’s over-the-top nastiness and villainy, especially during Allen’s passive-aggressive seduction of Travolta in the car); romantic fantasy (as during the idyllic first part of Carrie’s prom experience, when she and Katt begin to fall for one another); Gothic perversion (all scenes between Carrie and her insane mother); and “pure” horror (i.e., the entire last portion of the movie — which Peary argues is “overly violent”, but I disagree; De Palma employs enough restraint from violence throughout most of the story that the final bloody outcome feels “deserved”). Also noteworthy is how artfully De Palma (with help from DP Mario Tosi) directs and crafts each scene, strategically utilizing deep-focus placements, split-screen cinematography, low lighting, suspenseful editing, and unusual use of sound (or lack thereof) to heighten mood. The film is never uninteresting to look at; even as we occasionally wish for deeper character development (Irving and Katt’s characters are especially under-explored), we can’t help staying glued to the screen.

Note: Catching snippets from Carrie on television as an impressionable child was single-handedly responsible for my dread of horror films for many years — until I was old enough to approach them from an appropriately aesthetic film-fanatic perspective; nowadays, I appreciate this fact as further evidence of De Palma’s genius with the genre.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Sissy Spacek as Carrie White
  • Piper Laurie as Margaret White
  • Nancy Allen as Chris
  • Innovative, effective direction by De Palma

  • Hauntingly atmospheric cinematography by Mario Tosi

  • The justifiably lauded prom finale scene

Must See?
Yes, as a genuine horror classic.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Bells Are Ringing (1960)

Bells Are Ringing (1960)

“What a perfect relationship: I can’t see him, he can’t see me!”

Synopsis:
A benevolent answering service operator (Judy Holliday) tries to help her clients succeed in their careers by passing along information she hears, but her do-gooding efforts are threatened by a detective (Dort Clark) who believes she and her colleagues are running a house of ill repute; meanwhile, she falls in love with a client (Dean Martin) who knows her only as an older woman he calls “Mom”.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Dean Martin Films
  • Judy Holliday Films
  • Mistaken or Hidden Identities
  • Musicals
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Vincente Minnelli Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that Judy Holliday’s final movie — in which she “reprised her Broadway role as a Brooklyn answering-service operator who uses her knowledge of her clients’ difficulties to help them out, without divulging who she is and how she knows their problems”:

— is “overlong and not particularly smooth”; but he argues that “Holliday, even below her peak, is well worth watching”. He notes that “one interesting point is that Holliday’s ‘dumb blonde’ is much more stable than the men in the film — however, her support for them, including Martin, comes more out of her need to be a mother than a friend or lover”.

I’ll admit to finding this Vincente Minnelli-directed musical (with songs by Betty Comden, Adolph Green, and Jules Styne) one of the least compelling Holliday vehicles listed in Peary’s GFTFF; even Holliday’s naturally engaging presence can’t do much to elevate the storyline. The primary problem, as Peary hints, is that Martin and Holliday lack any real romantic tension: their “meet cute” (with Holliday crawling around Martin’s apartment after surreptitiously trying to wake him up for an important appointment) is poorly handled (why does he accept her presence so easily?), and Martin only seems to fall in love with Holliday because of her power as a muse. Meanwhile, the subplot involving thick-headed Clark’s pursuit of Holliday comes across as equally inane. This one is only must-see for diehard fans of Holliday and/or musicals.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Judy Holliday as Ella

Must See?
No, though naturally Hollidays fans will want to check it out at least once.

Links:

Marrying Kind, The (1952)

Marrying Kind, The (1952)

“You don’t seem to remember anything — and when you do, you remember it all wrong.”

Synopsis:
A couple (Judy Holliday and Aldo Ray) on the brink of divorce relate the story of their rocky marriage to a sympathetic judge (Madge Kennedy).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Aldo Ray Films
  • Divorce
  • Flashback Films
  • George Cukor Films
  • Judy Holliday Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Romantic Comedy

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary accurately argues that this “captivating film” — directed by George Cukor, and scripted by Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin — is “way ahead of its time” in its hard-hitting blend of “comedy and extreme tragedy”, telling the tale of a “lower-middle-class couple [who] experience a kind of therapy” while relating their story to a judge, “revealing feelings that they never expressed to each other”. He writes that while Holliday and Ray’s characters clearly “loved each other”, they “have ego problems which could be solved if they just expressed their true feelings for each other”. He notes that they “seemed to bring each other bad luck”, citing an instance he refers to as “one of the most painful scenes in movie history”, in which Holliday “has the opportunity to win a lot of money on a radio quiz by correctly naming a tune”, but instead “gives Ray’s guess instead of her own and they lose”.

I actually don’t find this scene particularly painful, given Holliday’s loving attempts to smooth the situation over: “Money you get that way doesn’t do you any good”, she reassures her depressed husband. It’s a later, tragic scene — one following on the heels of Holliday singing a delightful ditty (“Dolores”) while strumming a ukelele — that tears me up inside each time I think of it (though I won’t say more at risk of spoiling).

Indeed, Kanin and Gordon’s willingness to include truly hard-hitting scenes such as this one is part of what sets The Marrying Kind apart from other romantic comedies of its era. Equally innovative is their incorporation of voice-overs during flashback scenes, as we hear either Ray or Holliday telling their version of what happened while we simultaneously watch the “truth” unfold in front of us; it’s a remarkably effective strategy, shaking us out of our complacency as viewers.

Hunky newcomer Aldo Ray was an interesting choice to play Holliday’s postman-husband, Chet. While he suits the bill nicely in many ways (he’s believable as a blue collar worker, and seems invested in his role), his acting lacks nuance at times. More than making up for this, however, is Holliday, who gives a typically stellar performance as Florence (a.k.a. Florrie). In Alternate Oscars, Peary names Holliday Best Actress of the Year, noting that the role “was designed as a showcase for her, to prove that she had enough versatility to play in all kinds of films and that she could play a real character”. He writes that “like other Holliday characters, Florence is funny and endearing, and has a singular logic about life, which completely befuddles everyone else, including Chet… She seeks happiness along a rocky road, stubbornly refusing to compromise her way of doing things”. Yet he points out that “she can be extremely aggravating, insensitive, unsupportive, unforgiving, even selfish” — in other words, she’s an equal partner in the dissolution of her marriage. Holliday’s performance makes this film must-see viewing at least once, though the film itself is also a hidden gem.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Judy Holliday as Florrie (named Best Actress of the Year in Alternate Oscars)
  • Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin’s creative, incisive script

Must See?
Yes, as an unsung classic, and for Holliday’s performance.

Categories

  • Good Show
  • Important Director

Links:

Quiet Man, The (1952)

Quiet Man, The (1952)

“I’m Sean Thornton and I was born in that little cottage. I’m home, and home I’m going to stay.”

Synopsis:
An Irish-American ex-boxer (John Wayne) returning to his birth town falls in love with a beautiful, red-headed lass named Mary Kate (Maureen O’Hara) — but their happiness is foiled when Mary Kate’s bullish brother Will (Victor McLaglen) refuses to relinquish her dowry, Mary Kate refuses to consummate their marriage without it, and Sean (Wayne) refuses to confront Will.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Barry Fitzgerald Films
  • Battle-of-the-Sexes
  • Ireland
  • John Ford Films
  • John Wayne Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Maureen O’Hara Films
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Victor McLaglen Films
  • Ward Bond Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
After noting that John Ford visited his parents’ birthplace of County Galway in Ireland to “make this classic”, Peary writes that “the rolling countryside is so green, the village of Innisfree is so quaint, and the people whom [Ford’s] stock company portrays are so charmingly eccentric that we understand his love for his native land”. In his more extensive review of the film for Cult Movies 3 (where he refers to The Quiet Man as “the cult movie of the American Irish who are nostalgic for their homeland”), he goes into detail about the film’s production history — including the many years it took Ford to get his dream project off the ground, and the fact that it was truly a “family affair”, with siblings and children of not only Ford but Wayne, O’Hara, Barry Fitzgerald, and McLaglen involved (!). Peary describes the movie as “leisurely paced, lovely-to-look-at, [and] spiritedly acted”, but wonders if Ford and DP Winton C. Hoch were “trying to capture the look of a fairy tale or one of Ford’s daydreams about Ireland”; he further argues that — just like in Ford’s westerns, which are filled with stereotypical stock characters — this film represents Ford’s vision of a “romanticized, ideal Ireland”, rather than a more “authentic” Ireland. [That latter vision — driven by Irish filmmakers themselves — would come right around the time Peary’s book was published, with movies such as Jim Sheridan’s My Left Foot (1987) and Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game (1992).]

In his GFTFF, Peary analyzes the film’s sexual politics, noting that Mary Kate’s refusal to “consummate [her] marriage if she doesn’t have the dowry” makes her like a “modern woman”, given that she “doesn’t want to enter a relationship unless it’s on equal terms”. He writes how refreshing it is that, despite their obvious challenges, Mary Kate and Sean ultimately both view each other with maturity, love, and respect. Mary Kate “decides to have sex with Sean although he has not come through for her”, given that she “senses that he has reasons for not challenging her brother, although she herself may not understand them”. Similarly, Sean “challenges Will for Mary Kate’s sake”, conceding “that her reasons for wanting the dowry are not trivial, although he doesn’t understand them”. Peary goes on to note that “there’s so much Irish humor in this film and so many quirky characters that one tends to overlook that just below the surface there is much seriousness, hurt, and guilt; both Sean and Mary Kate are tormented in real ways and we feel for them”.

Finally, Peary points out that while “Ford was never known for ‘love scenes’… the silent passage in which Sean and O’Hara hold hands, race for shelter from the sudden rain, and then stop, clutch (he drapes his sweater over her), and kiss as the rain soaks through their clothing is incredibly sexy”; I agree. Wayne and O’Hara are both in top form here, and are indeed — as Peary notes — “one of the screen’s most romantic couples”. In Alternate Oscars, Peary names Wayne Best Actor of the Year for The Quiet Man, and provides a detailed analysis of why this performance was one of Wayne’s best and “most relaxed”. He notes that Sean “is Wayne’s gentlest character”, that he’s “formidable” but without McLaglen’s “need to be a bully or braggart”. As Peary writes, “He has such confidence in his masculinity that he is polite, emotional, sentimental, and sweet enough to plant roses”, never “hid[ing] his love from Mary Kate, [and] never assum[ing] a paternal or authoritarian stance with her”. Indeed, it’s easy to see why O’Hara would fall in love with him — though naturally, she’s equally appealing, for her own reasons. This romantic couple is one we truly enjoy watching on screen.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Maureen O’Hara as feisty Mary Kate Danaher (nominated as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars)
  • John Wayne as Sean Thornton (voted Best Actor of the Year in Alternate Oscars)
  • Barry Fitzgerald as Michaleen Oge Flynn
  • Plenty of romantic tension between Wayne and O’Hara
  • Excellent use of authentic Irish countryside
  • Oscar-winning cinematography by Winton C. Hoch

Must See?
Yes, as one of Ford’s finest films. Nominated as one of the Best Films of the Year in Alternate Oscars.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links: