My comments on Peary’s reviews in Guide for the Film Fanatic (Simon & Schuster, 1986).
“Life must be lived; one has to move on!”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Links: |
“Mr. Holmes, you’re the one man in all England who can help me.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Note: I was inspired to revisit some of Peary’s recommended Holmes titles after watching the excellent new BBC series “Sherlock”, which updates the characters to contemporary London. Each episode is nearly 1.5 hours, making the series more like a set of films than a T.V. show. They’re enormously clever, and definitely worth a look. Sherlock Holmes, by the way, is the “most portrayed literary character in film”, according to the Guinness Book of World Records. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
Links: |
“I never knowed any woman could shoot good enough to join this outfit.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Links: |
“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: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Links: |
“Try to remember that nothing good ever ends.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: I’m not quite as enamored with the film as Peary (who nominates it as one of the Best Pictures of the Year in his Alternate Oscars). My sentiments are much more aligned with those of DVD Savant, who writes that “the movie has all the faults of a wartime film tailored for morale purposes, and as such offers a strange mix of Saroyan’s poetry (too much of it, in fact) and overbearing MGM sentiment”, yet concedes that “despite its flaws the film is as touching now as it was then”. Like Savant, I feel the film “tries too hard” yet “is by no means an embarrassing hoot”, given that “most of its scenes are honest and quite a few have a wonderful, natural appeal”. Indeed, for every shamelessly hokey device (i.e., the presence of Rooney’s deceased father [Ray Collins] providing a voice-from-beyond-the-grave narration), there’s a scene that hits home in its quiet authenticity — i.e., Frank Morgan’s struggles to stay awake and sober while receiving news about heartbreaking tragedies on the front. The performances throughout are a mixed big, with some characters coming across as simply archetypes (i.e., Bainter as a harp-playing widow; Reed as Rooney’s quietly beautiful sister) — but often this seems due simply to the material they were given to work with (or not). Rooney was rightfully Oscar-nominated for his surprisingly heartfelt and selfless portrayal as Homer Macauley; Savant accurately points out that Rooney “flawlessly” performs a critical early scene — in which he delivers a telegram to a Mexican-American woman whose son has died in the war — by simply “shut[ting] up and giv[ing] the scene over to the other actor”. Jackie ‘Butch’ Jenkins, as Homer’s little brother Ulysses, also gives an admirably “natural” performance, coming across like a real kid, not an aspiring child actor; and Morgan is pitch-perfect in his small but memorable role. However, I’m not at all a fan of the romantic subplot between Craig and Hunt, which seems patently crafted to bolster Saroyan’s thesis that (as Peary puts it) “all Americans are equal”. Yeah, right. While it’s somewhat refreshing, I suppose, to learn that Hunt and her parents aren’t the haughty snobs one might believe them to be, we’re still never given a good reason to understand why Craig and Hunt are so in love. What attracted them to each other in the first place? To that end, Craig’s character is a frustrating cypher; he’s clearly a well-meaning, generous guy (as evidenced in a revealing early scene with a customer in his store), but nothing more is made of this tendency. Meanwhile, their “honeymoon” drive alongside a WEIRD multi-cultural festival — reminiscent of the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland — is simply, as Savant puts it, “hilariously insulting”. Note: I recall being enamored with Saroyan’s novel as a teen, and was fascinated to read (in TCM’s article) that, based on the success of his play The Time of Your Life, he was solicited to write the story as a screenplay based on his own life growing up in a small California town. (The screenplay was eventually rewritten by someone else, but Saroyan turned the material into his novel.) Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
Links: |
“This is the biggest thing to happen to this state since we stole it from the Indians!”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Hutton’s “hyperkinetic” energy is perfectly suited for her role here; she definitely shows off her comedic chops, and while we have a hard time liking or respecting her at first, she eventually grows on us. Meanwhile, William Demarest as her “highly excitable policeman father” and Diana Lynn as her “shrewd younger sister” (giving a “surprisingly amusing portrayal”, reminiscent of her similar role in 1942’s The Major and the Minor) represent one of the most refreshingly “authentic” father-daughter pairings in early Hollywood. Widowed Demarest never stops lamenting the challenges of raising two daughters on his own:
While Hutton is busy being “hyperkinetically” distracted by her seemingly hopeless predicament, Lynn remains remarkably unperturbed as her father snipes lines like the following at her: “Listen, Zipper-puss! Some day they’re just gonna find your hair ribbon and an axe someplace. Nothing else! The Mystery of Morgan’s Creek!” (Yeah right, Dad. Moving on the matter at hand…) Note: The “miracle” itself (devised by Sturges in the midst of production) is a cleverly outrageous one; don’t read anything at all about this film online if you wish to remain surprised. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
Links: |
“A type like that is an animal — so you’ve got to fight him like an animal.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: We’re shown exactly what kind of a self-centered bastard Mitchum is during the opening sequence, as he jostles a woman carrying a stack of books, and walks right past her rather than stopping to help her pick them up. Later, an encounter between Mitchum and a “loose” woman (Barrie Chase) he picks up at a bar — then attacks so viciously she’s scared to say a word to the authorities — is used to excellent effect, indicating to us exactly the level of violence and sexual terror Mitchum is capable of inflicting; while the “attack” itself isn’t shown explicitly, the way in which director J. Lee Thompson shows both the terrifying moments beforehand, and Chase’s brutalized appearance after, are enough to convince us that Mitchum is someone of whom to be very, very scared. Meanwhile, Bernard Herrmann provides an effectively creepy film score, and accomplished DP Sam Leavitt’s b&w cinematography is consistently atmospheric. With all of this said, I personally find Cape Fear too disturbing a film to recommend as more than a “once-must” thriller. While the entire story is told remarkably effectively, who wants to subject themselves to this kind of vicarious torture more than once? I know there are horror fans who live for the opportunity to exist with their hearts perpetually in their throats; but the type of menace offered up here is simply too freaky for my blood. The basic premise of the screenplay is that the law won’t — or can’t — protect citizens from an uncommitted crime, no matter how obvious the threat. To that end, as noted by Richard Scheib, Cape Fear is notable as “the first of a subgenre of films that placed the nuclear family and the values of ordinary American decency up against a wall”, with “direct echoes… found in films like Straw Dogs (1971) [and] Dirty Harry (1971).” While it may be astonishing to see Peck — starring as a pacifist lawyer in the same year’s To Kill a Mockingbird — resort to violence to protect his own family, one seriously can’t blame him. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
Links: |
“It has a name; the name stands for the thing.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: Speaking of Oscars, Bancroft — reprising her role on Broadway — deservedly won one for her work here, and Peary acknowledges the wisdom of this choice in Alternate Oscars, where he similarly offers Bancroft the award. He confesses to liking “Bancroft’s slight smiles, [the] hints that [her] Annie knows she has a touch of madness”, which is “fine with her because, as she tells the Kellers, the madness is part of the strength she developed while growing up in an asylum”; indeed “only a slightly mad woman would speak to her employers as bluntly as she does” (and my, how refreshing this is to witness!). Just as exceptional as Bancroft’s performance, however, is that given by Patty Duke (also reprising her Broadway role), playing Helen Keller with “amazing intelligence and strength”. Duke and Bancroft are remarkably physical and impassioned in their interactions with one another; one feels exhausted simply watching them on-screen, let alone imagining the fortitude it took to execute their “long and complexly choreographed” “knock-about battles”. Peary accurately likens their work to the “skill of great silent comediennes doing wild, intricate slapstick” — though the mood in this case is usually anything but humorous. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
Links: |
“Once you find the way, you’ll be bound. It will obsess you, but believe me, it will be a magnificent obsession.”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary gives away a few too many spoilers in his review for me to quote it more extensively, but suffice it to say that he calls out the film’s Christian/spiritual underpinnings, which were a prominent feature of the source novel by minister Lloyd C. Douglas. In his much-more-cynical review, DVD Savant refers to the screenplay as “a rickety stack of accidents and ironies”, the dialogue as “painfully trite and often unintentionally funny”, and the underlying moral thrust — which he believes is corrupt — as “Presbyterian Guilt, [or] an exaggerated sense of responsibility”; he’s clearly not a fan of the film (or the story). My position lies somewhere in between both perspectives. Unless you buy into Sirk’s unique sensibility, you’re likely to find the entire film just a skosh removed from high camp — which is not to say you won’t enjoy some of its more melodramatic moments. There’s something undeniably moving about seeing a playboy genuinely reformed — and I found Hudson’s attraction to Wyman much more believable here than in their follow-up film, All That Heaven Allows. While this one is ultimately only must-see for Sirk completists, film fanatics will probably enjoy seeing it at least once. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Links: |
“Feast your eyes — glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!”
|
Synopsis: |
|
Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:
Response to Peary’s Review: The first half may be somewhat slow, but it effectively sets up the premise of novelist Gaston Leroux‘s simple yet timeless “beauty and the beast” tale — and if you watch it at 1.5 or 2x speed (as I often do with certain sections of silent films), you shouldn’t have any problem staying focused. This is especially true given the consistently atmospheric camerawork (which makes fine use of shadowy effects), and the impressive sets throughout — including the still-extant (in part, anyway) recreation of the Paris Opera House, as well as the Phantom’s genuinely spooky underground lair, full of “secret doors, heat torture, chambers filling with water”, and more. Peary notes that “as in The Raven [1935] and Frankenstein [1931], [the] story deals with [a] significant horror premise: those who are monstrous-looking will act monstrously”. To that end, we don’t learn quite enough about what turned the Phantom into the hideous beast he’s become, but what’s interesting is that we never really feel sorry for him, despite knowing that he’s been unfairly treated somehow — likely because he commits cold-blooded murders from the moment the film starts, as soon as anyone gets too close to discovering his secret identity. Meanwhile, we don’t really feel much compassion for Philbin’s Christine, either — she’s a true ninny possessing nary a shred of common sense, and her boyfriend (Kerry) is equally lug-headed. But the film really is all about Chaney’s Phantom (the first of Universal Studios’ “monsters”, as pointed out by Richard Scheib) — and both he and his elaborate makeup are mesmerizing from start to finish. Note: The version I watched is the “original” b&w version that was likely circulating at the time Peary wrote his review; since then, however, a highly regarded DVD has been released which contains two different versions of the film — including one with a handful of Technicolor sequences. Click here to read more about the merits of the DVD, which apparently includes a wealth of information for anyone interested in the film’s fabled history. Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Must See? Categories
(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die) Links: |
