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Month: December 2011

Great Ziegfeld, The (1936)

Great Ziegfeld, The (1936)

“He’s up one day and down the next. If he got $10,000 tomorrow, he’d spend it on the girl he happened to like tomorrow night.”

Synopsis:
Carnival showman Flo Ziegfeld (William Powell) rises to fame and fortune when he decides to showcase some of the world’s most glamorous young women in a “Follies” show. But his roving eye causes tension in his first marriage with singer Anna Held (Luise Rainer), and his second marriage with Billie Burke (Myrna Loy) is colored by financial strain.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Biopics
  • Frank Morgan Films
  • Luise Rainer Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Myrna Loy Films
  • Showgirls
  • Vaudeville and Burlesque
  • William Powell Films

Review:
Referred to by TV Guide as “three hours of lumpy, overcooked pudding”, this infamously undeserving Best Picture winner may, as DVD Savant posits, set “new records for whitewashing a famous personage”. In his Alternate Oscars book, Peary refers to it as “an endless picture… with some of the most boring musical numbers imaginable”, noting that “even a number with a hundred chorus girls in their underwear is numbing”. DVD Savant is similarly no-holds-barred in his scathing review of the film, in which he asserts, “I’m assuming what we see here is almost a total fantasy”, given that:

“MGM’s Ziegfeld [apparently] had no faults, only the impish need to upstage his pompous pal played by Frank Morgan. He loved all women but had no affairs, and was essentially faithful to his first wife (doubtful) and devoted to his second (entirely possible). He’s that kind of rogue who’s forever broke but somehow living a permanent life of luxury, skating on his personality and promotional talent.”

Indeed, we ultimately learn frustratingly little about this larger-than-life historical figure, a man who had only been dead for a few years at the time of the film’s release, and whose widow (Billy Burke) was notoriously invested in ensuring that her beloved husband’s name not be sullied in any way. There actually seems to be an overarching fear of placing any of the characters here (most still alive) in too bad a light — with the exception of Virginia Bruce’s “Audrey Dane” (a stand-in for Ziegfeld’s real-life lover, Lillian Lorraine), who bears the brunt of the narrative’s bitchiness factor.

The real aim of the film, it seems, was to tap into audience members’ nostalgia for the Follies, since at that time, they were not all that far removed from people’s lived experiences; for today’s viewers, however, what passed as entertainment back then is simply puzzling in its unintentional banality. DVD Savant asserts that “most of the big numbers here are ugly in the extreme”, and that “grandiosity has never seemed so hollow” — sentiments which accurately capture my own feelings when watching one overblown production piece after another, all seemingly meant simply to wow audiences with sheer spectacle. But there’s very little “there” there. Other than a snippet of Fanny Brice singing “My Man”, and a pre-Wizard of Oz Ray Bolger performing a dance that shows ample evidence of why casting agents thought he would be perfect playing a limp-limbed scarecrow, the numbers really aren’t that memorable. Indeed, by the final one, I found myself simply distracted, with thoughts running through my head like, “Oh — there’s a woman in a drum majorette outfit dancing in front of a row of trained dogs. How strange.”

Luise Rainer’s Oscar-winning performance as Ziegfeld’s first wife, Anna Held (a.k.a. ‘The Viennese Teardrop’), is a primary reason film fanatics may be curious to see this movie — especially given that Rainer won an unprecedented second Oscar in a row the following year (for The Good Earth), then virtually disappeared from movies altogether; she’s a bit of an enigma. With that said, while she “had beauty, charm, and talent” (as stated by Peary in Alternate Oscars), audiences today will likely concede that “her characterization of Held as a sweet, emotional, indecisive, and insecure outsider wavers from being adorable to being irritating”. Peary further argues that her “celebrated phone call scene in which [she] pretends to be happy when she congratulates Ziegfeld on his [second] marriage… is a shameless scene that would have gotten an audience reaction no matter which actress played it”.

This is all true — and yet I’ll admit to finding myself somewhat transfixed whenever Rainer was on-screen; she did possess a strangely magnetic (if, indeed, mildly irksome) personality, and it’s a shame her cinematic career was so erratic after this.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Rainer’s Oscar-winning performance as the petulant but winsome diva Anna Held
  • Fanny Brice singing (part of) “My Man”
  • Ray Bolger’s “elastic” dancing routine
  • Typically outrageous Follies costumes

Must See?
No, though most film fanatics will likely be curious to check it out once just for its dubious relevance as an Oscar winner. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Phantom of the Opera (1943)

Phantom of the Opera (1943)

“Christine, you’re going to be a great and famous singer — I’ll help you.”

Synopsis:
A middle-aged violinist (Claude Rains) secretly funds the voice lessons of a beautiful young understudy (Susanna Foster) at the Paris Opera. When he is dismissed from his job, Rains tries to earn money to continue Foster’s lessons by selling a concerto he’s composed, but is disfigured by acid when, in a fit of rage, he kills the man who he believes has stolen his work. He escapes from the police and goes underground at the opera house, determined to make Foster a star at any cost.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Character Arc
  • Claude Rains Films
  • Disfigured Faces
  • Horror
  • Hume Cronyn Films
  • Love Triangle
  • Opera

Review:
Universal Pictures’ remake of its own silent-era horror classic is an entirely different cinematic experience altogether — one which, unfortunately, can’t hold a candle to its atmospheric predecessor. As noted in Richard Schreib’s review of the 1925 Lon Chaney version, that film’s director “keeps the character of the Phantom deliberately mysterious –- as opposed to [in] other versions” (such as this one), “which create too much sympathy and not enough mystery for the Phantom.” Indeed, this later version is less a supernatural horror film than an operatic love triangle underscored by a tragic character study — a messy melange of genres which never really gel. In a significant departure from the original novel by Gaston Leroux, the first half-hour or so is given over to providing a back-story for the Phantom, who turns out to be a reasonably sympathetic, if deeply disturbed, violinist who, for reasons left frustratingly opaque — is he her father? (in the original novel, her father is a deceased fiddler) — holds a lifelong obsession with making Christine (Foster) a star. Rains is as compelling to watch as always, but — despite the clear effort made to flesh out his character — his Phantom feels “unfinished” somehow; it’s almost as though, in their attempt to humanize the Phantom, the filmmakers stripped him of his mystery while unintentionally opening up a host of other unanswered questions.

Meanwhile, as noted in Time Out’s review, the film is at least “very pretty to look at, with lush Technicolor, handsome sets, and even a fetchingly sculptured mask to give Claude Rains’ rather benign Phantom the look of a contented feline.” However, the “endless operatic snippets for Eddy and Foster to warble [make] it all a somewhat tiresome waste of Rains’ performance.” In addition, while there was a clear romantic rival for the Phantom’s affections in the original film, here this element of the plot has been needlessly opened up to include a pair of “humorously” rivalrous suitors for Foster — not just policeman Raoul D’Aubert (Edgar Barrier), but tenor Anatole Garron (Nelson Eddy) as well (presumably because Rains, as hinted above, never posits overtly romantic yearnings towards Christine). Foster is charming in her way (and certainly beautiful), but Barrier and Eddy are simply insipid male co-leads. Other than Rains’ performance, the best element of the film by far are its reasonably atmospheric sets, including the use of the same Paris Opera House replica that appears in the original silent version.

Note: Click here to read a list of the dozens of multi-media adaptations (so far) of Phantom… — a story which clearly resonates on an archetypal level for many.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Oscar-winning sets
  • Claude Rains as Erique Claudin/”The Phantom”

Must See?
No; this one is only must-see for true Phantom-philes.

Links:

Johnny Belinda (1948)

Johnny Belinda (1948)

“There’s only one shame: failing a human being who needs you.”

Synopsis:
A doctor (Lew Ayres) in a Nova Scotian village befriends and tutors a young deaf woman (Jane Wyman) whose father (Charles Bickford) and aunt (Agnes Moorehead) previously thought she was simply a “dummy”. When Belinda (Wyman) is raped by a local fisherman (Stephan McNally), she becomes pregnant, and the entire town suspects Ayres of being the father.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Agnes Moorehead Films
  • Character Arc
  • Charles Bickford Films
  • Deafness
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Jan Sterling Films
  • Jane Wyman Films
  • Jean Negulesco Films
  • Rape

Review:
Peary doesn’t seem to be a big fan of this Oscar-nominated film, which garnered Jane Wyman a Best Actress award. While he doesn’t review it in his GFTFF (he simply lists it in the back), he discusses it a bit in the 1948 “chapter” of his Alternate Oscars book, where he notes that “after years in lightweight roles”, Wyman finally got her “big break” in this film. He argues that “the part was so strong already that Wyman really wasn’t required to act”, and that “director Jean Negulesco had her give a remarkably restrained performance (she rarely changes expressions) so it wouldn’t be so evident that they were milking the audience for sympathy”. He posits (unfairly, in my opinion) that “Wyman just smiled prettily and kept her eyes wide open”, ultimately coming across as “extremely huggable and lovable” — hence, her Oscar. Adding insult to injury, while Wyman was nominated no less than four times as best leading actress in a film, Peary never nominates her at all in his Alternate Oscars.

I’m not particularly a fan of Wyman myself — but I do find her performance here to be note-perfect; in fact, it’s likely my favorite of all her roles. Truth be told, I’ve always thought of Wyman as a bit dowdy, and have a hard time “buying” her in more glamorous parts (i.e., in Douglas Sirk’s films); she’s what you might call a handsome woman, but not particularly beautiful — and thus, she’s perfectly suited for her role here, where her “earthier” appeal is allowed to shine. Meanwhile, she’s surrounded by a top-notch supporting cast, with several familiar character actors — Charles Bickford, Agnes Moorehead, and Jan Sterling — given meatier roles than usual (to excellent effect). What’s especially refreshing is how each of these seemingly archetypal characters — bullish father (Bickford), shrewish aunt (Moorehead), jealous townswoman (Sterling) — are allowed to transcend their initial characterizations, each tapping into a store of deeply guarded humanity. Also notable is Lew Ayres (best known for his starring role in 1930’s All Quiet on the Western Front), who — as a noted pacifist during WWII — apparently had a hard time earning meaningful roles; he’s smartly cast here, and offers a refreshingly avuncular leading-man presence.

Interestingly, as DVD Savant points out, this was “one of the first Hollywood films to look at a handicapped [sic] person as a worthy subject for drama” — something we take for granted these days, when such a role almost guarantees that an actor will be nominated for an Oscar. The storyline itself, despite its undeniably harsh subject matter, is tastefully handled throughout; with the exception of a couple of key narrative twists later in the film which are handled a bit too facilely (I can’t say more at risk of spoiling), it’s a nicely balanced script, filled with plenty of local dialogue. Shot in coastal Northern California, the sets accurately reflect the windswept rockiness of Nova Scotia, and both cinematographer Ted McCord and Negulescu do a fine job presenting the tale through consistently atmospheric visuals. In sum, this one will likely surprise you as — in DVD Savant’s words — “a rare animal, a heart-warming sentimental story that doesn’t tax one’s intelligence, even if it does take a few melodramatic turns on its way.”

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Jane Wyman as Belinda
  • Lew Ayres as Dr. Richardson
  • A host of excellent supporting performances


  • Ted McCord’s atmospheric cinematography

  • Fine direction by Negulescu

Must See?
Yes, for Wyman’s Oscar-winning performance, and as an overall good show.

Categories

  • Noteworthy Performance(s)
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Links:

Nun’s Story, The (1959)

Nun’s Story, The (1959)

“Your personal wishes cease to exist when you enter that door.”

Synopsis:
The daughter (Audrey Hepburn) of a renowned surgeon (Dean Jagger) becomes a nun and is sent to the Belgian Congo, where she works with Dr. Fortunati (Peter Finch) in a hospital and struggles to remain true to the tenets of her faith.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Africa
  • Audrey Hepburn Films
  • Dean Jagger Films
  • Doctors and Nurses
  • Fred Zinnemann Films
  • Mildred Dunnock Films
  • Niall MacGinnis Films
  • Nuns
  • Peter Finch Films

Review:
Upon learning that Fred Zinnemann’s 2.5-hour The Nun’s Story — based on a factually-inspired novel by Kathryn Hulme — became Warner Brothers’ highest grossing film at the time of its release, one feels a renewed respect for the tolerances and interests of mid-century American audiences, given that it’s a lengthy, serious, introspective movie about the quest for a meaningful spiritual existence. Yet it was likely the undeniable star-power of Audrey Hepburn — in perhaps her best-suited role — that drew viewers to the theater; while there’s nary a Dior outfit in sight, she remains as captivating to watch as ever. Her wonderfully expressive face tells us everything we need to know about the complicated trajectory her character chooses to undergo, shedding her prior identity as Gabrielle van der Mal — beloved daughter of a devoted father (Dean Jagger) — to become “Sister Luke”.

The film’s first half-hour is arguably its most compelling — simply from an ethnographic perspective — as we’re made privy to the ritualistic experiences of novitiate nuns, whose lives are conducted largely in silence. After this, the narrative turns to the quietly compelling drama of Hepburn’s struggle to remain “Selfless”, as she’s trained for work as a nurse, and is given no choice in where she’s sent or who she’s asked to work with. Audiences must have wondered what — if anything — would be made of Sister Luke’s close working situation with Peter Finch’s enigmatic and handsome Dr. Fortunati (what a name!); thankfully, both the script and the performances preserve the essence of their platonic mutual respect for one another. The film’s final half-hour, as Sister Luke reaches a crisis in her personal identity, serves as a fine culmination to the meaty and respectful narrative we’ve experienced until then.

In sum, The Nun’s Story will likely surprise you in the way it manages to present a saga of spiritual angst within such a compelling and engaging narrative framework. In a way, this would make a fascinating double-bill with Black Narcissus (1947), given that the two films — though obviously told in radically divergent cinematic styles — are thematically related in that they are both concerned with nuns who question their devotion to their order. Both films also feature a fine cast of supporting performers: as DVD Savant notes, The Nun’s Story offers a virtual “Who’s Who of professional actresses” popping up at various times throughout its narrative, including Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Mildred Dunnock, Beatrice Straight, Patricia Collinge, Ruth White, Colleen Dewhurst, and Dorothy Alison (the latter in a truly heartbreaking and memorable bit part). The male roster, while naturally smaller, is also impressive, and includes not only Finch but Dean Jagger (in a small but pivotal role as Hepburn’s father), Lionel Jeffries, and Niall MacGinnis. The collective energies that went into crafting this lovingly told, powerful tale make it well worth a film fanatic’s time to sit through.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Audrey Hepburn as Sister Luke (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in his Alternate Oscars)
  • Peter Finch as Dr. Fortunati
  • Many fine supporting performances

  • The fascinating first half-hour, in which Hepburn is indoctrinated into her order

  • An interesting ethnographic glimpse at life in the Congo


  • Franz Planer’s cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a surprisingly powerful film about spiritual faith and personal identity. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant

Links:

Blue Dahlia, The (1946)

Blue Dahlia, The (1946)

“Just don’t get too complicated, Eddie. When a man gets too complicated, he’s unhappy. And when he’s unhappy, his luck runs out.”

Synopsis:
A veteran (Alan Ladd) returning from active duty in WWII with his two buddies (William Bendix and Hugh Beaumont) is disturbed to learn that his wife (Doris Dowling) has been carrying on an affair with a shady nightclub owner (Howard Da Silva). When his wife is murdered later that evening, Ladd becomes a prime suspect and hits the road, accidentally meeting Da Silva’s estranged wife (Veronica Lake) along the way.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alan Ladd Films
  • Falsely Accused
  • George Marshall Films
  • Murder Mystery
  • Veronica Lake Films
  • Veterans
  • William Bendix Films

Review:
The Blue Dahlia is notorious for being the only film with an original script by Raymond Chandler (his novels were all adapted for the screen by other writers) — and when reading about the trouble he had actually completing the screenplay, it’s easy to understand why. With that said, the film itself remains an enjoyable, if uneven, entry in the film noir genre — one which showcases Chandler’s typically pulpy dialogue and characters, and offers a reasonably satisfying cinematic experience overall. Diminutive romantic leads Ladd and Lake were cast together for the third time (after This Gun For Hire and the non-Peary-listed The Glass Key, both made in 1942), and they make a visually appealing “couple” — but the problem is that their “relationship” together (not to mention Lake’s ambiguously problematic marriage to Da Silva) is never adequately defined or developed. Chandler notoriously referred to Lake as “Moronica” Lake, and one can’t help wondering whether his disdain for her as an actress bled over into the lack of care he took in crafting her character. Regardless, it’s a frustrating flaw in the narrative.

The central murder mystery, however, remains both taut and suspenseful, with the killer’s identity coming as a true surprise (don’t read too much about the movie online, as most reviews immediately give away a form of spoiler). Ladd is appropriately brooding and wary — if ultimately not quite as charismatic as, say, Bogart — playing a veteran who comes home to a truly nasty “surprise” in the form of his openly disdainful and philandering wife (one desperately wonders what their relationship was like pre-war; what drew the two of them together in the first place?). Meanwhile, Bendix turns in yet another solid supporting performance in a critical role as Ladd’s plate-headed buddy; the opening scene in a bar nicely establishes his character’s bugaboo. Da Silva is equally effective in a tricky role as a nightclub owner with a shady past who seems to regret having gotten involved with Dowling in the first place, and Will Wright is instantly smarmy as a house detective who’s a little too interested in the welfare of his most attractive clients.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Stark, noir-ish cinematography by Lionel Linden
  • William Bendix as Buzz
  • Howard Da Silva as Eddie Harwood
  • Will Wright as “Dad” Newell
  • Fine, hard-boiled dialogue by Chandler:

    “It’s funny, but practically all people were strangers when I met them.”

Must See?
Yes, simply to see Chandler’s only screenwriting venture. Listed as a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant

Links:

Phantom of the Opera, The (1925)

Phantom of the Opera, The (1925)

“Feast your eyes — glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!”

Synopsis:
A masked madman (Lon Chaney) living beneath the Paris Opera House is determined to win the love of a beautiful understudy (Mary Philbin) by providing her with an opportunity to perform in place of the lead singer (Virginia Pearson). He warns Christine (Philbin) not to have anything more to do with her lover (Norman Kerry), or to touch his mask — but she ignores both warnings, and soon the Phantom sets forth on a deadly rampage.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Disfigured Faces
  • Horror
  • Lon Chaney, Sr. Films
  • Mind Control and Hypnosis
  • Obsessive Love
  • Opera
  • Serial Killers
  • Silent Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Though many critics have complained about the unevenness of its narrative and direction (due primarily to its notorious production troubles), I’m in agreement with Peary’s largely positive review of this “classic horror film”, starring Lon Chaney as “the victim of torture, with a crazed mind and a hideous half-skeletal face that he covers with a mask” — a “great composer” who “haunts a great opera house in 19th century Paris” and is determined to “make a star of lovely singer Mary Philbin”. He posits that “except for the classic unmasking scene in which we and Philbin see Chaney’s face for the first time” (a justifiably lauded sequence which remains just as effective today, and will likely give you a start), the “first half of the film is slow” — but he argues that “from the moment Chaney overhears Philbin and Kerry plotting to run away, the picture becomes an exciting, first-rate thriller”.

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:

  • Lon Chaney as Erik, a.k.a. “The Phantom”
  • Truly fabulous make-up
  • The infamous “unmasking” scene
  • Effective use of shadowy cinematography

  • Impressive sets

  • The climactic denouement

Must See?
Yes, as a certified classic, and for Chaney’s performance.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

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

Links:

Written on the Wind (1956)

Written on the Wind (1956)

“I’ll wait, and I’ll have you — marriage or no marriage.”

Synopsis:
The alcoholic playboy son (Robert Stack) of an oil magnate (Robert Keith) woos and marries a secretary (Lauren Bacall) who his best friend (Rock Hudson) is secretly in love with; meanwhile, Stack’s nymphomaniac sister (Dorothy Malone) will stop at nothing to convince Hudson — her lifelong crush — to marry her.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alcoholism and Drug Addiction
  • Class Relations
  • Dorothy Malone Films
  • Douglas Sirk Films
  • Lauren Bacall Films
  • Love Triangle
  • Millionaires
  • Robert Stack Films
  • Rock Hudson Films
  • Siblings

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary notes that this “tempestuous melodrama” — “produced by Albert Zugsmith… and directed by Douglas Sirk, the German emigre who made films about American life and family” — features “strong performances, especially by an extremely sexy Dorothy Malone” (who won an Oscar for her supporting work here), and “ranks with The Tarnished Angels [1957] as Sirk’s best work”. He points out that “as in all good potboilers, the characters are driven by their passions and are surrounded by destructive forces: those characters who are destroyed also have destructive forces emanating from the inside”. As argued by Tim Dirks on his Greatest Films site, the film critiques “the underlying hollowness and shallowness of American society in the placid 1950s,” portraying “misfit lives stunted and corrupted by mental anguish, alcoholism, sexual frustration, and corruptible materialistic wealth”. And, as noted in Bright Lights’ review, the presence of “private jets, rivers of booze, barroom fisticuffs, shiny clothes, and a forest of phallic oil derricks” link this film inextricably to its heirs apparent — the popular television series “Dynasty” and “Dallas”.

While Sirk’s previous films — such as Magnificent Obsession (1954) and All That Heaven Allows (1955) — afforded audiences the opportunity to relate to the central female protagonist’s romantic and social crises, such an association is less obvious here. Presumably, audiences were meant to primarily sympathize with Bacall’s character:

… who is lured into a world of wealth and privilege in part due to her compassion for such an obviously “broken” man as Stack (who comes across as oddly sympathetic, despite his character’s deep-seated flaws; Stack is in fine form).

Meanwhile, Hudson’s “Mitch Wayne” is a likable, no-nonsense counterpart for male audiences to relate to.

But it’s Malone’s sexy, deeply troubled “Marylee” who is ultimately most memorable here, with her drunken, frenzied dervish (cross-cut with her father’s death) a disturbing highlight of the film.


She and her brother are clear cautionary evidence of the way in which “those who have money… are doomed, as if money created bad genes”. One may leave the film feeling oddly grateful for not being wealthy.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Dorothy Malone as Marylee Hadley
  • Robert Stack as Kyle Hadley
  • Rock Hudson as Mitch Wayne
  • Vibrant sets and Technicolor cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a mid-century melodramatic classic — and for Malone’s Oscar-winning supporting performance.

Categories

  • Important Director
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

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

Links:

All That Heaven Allows (1955)

All That Heaven Allows (1955)

“Don’t you see I’d be turning my back on everything I’ve ever known?”

Synopsis:
A lonely socialite widow (Jane Wyman) has an affair with her bohemian gardener (Rock Hudson), much to the dismay of her best friend (Agnes Moorehead) and college-aged children (Gloria Talbott and William Reynolds).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Agnes Moorehead Films
  • Cross-Class Romance
  • Douglas Sirk Films
  • Jane Wyman Films
  • Morality Police
  • Rock Hudson Films
  • Widows and Widowers

Review:
Among the handful of mid-century melodramas Douglas Sirk made for Universal International Pictures, All That Heaven Allows remains one of the most highly regarded — in hindsight, that is. Sirk’s films were only truly valued as “fabulous, ironic piece[s] of performance art” (as described in 1,001 Movies You Must See) in later decades, when they were re-appropriated by newer audiences who viewed — and appreciated — them from an entirely different perspective. As DVD Savant puts it, Sirk’s films are “fake and honest at the same time”, presented as “artificial constructions filled with powerful real emotions”. This description suits All That Heaven Allows — Hudson and Wyman’s follow-up to their success in Sirk’s Magnificent Obsession (1954) — to a tee.

Wyman and Hudson’s romance in ATHA is never exactly believable; while we can understand why Wyman — a lonely widow — would go gaga over hunky Hudson, the opposite motivation simply isn’t there. We never get a sense of why, exactly, the free-spirited Hudson (who has no desire at all to tap into either Wyman’s money or social set) feels Wyman is suitable as his new soulmate. Such quibbles must ultimately be set aside, however, given that this is squarely meant to be a women’s picture — a film designed precisely to appeal to those [females] who could relate to Wyman’s predicament (as a lonely housewife and mother) in some form or another. Hudson’s character suits Wyman’s needs perfectly, and thus — he exists. Meanwhile, the competing forces in Wyman’s life — ranging from her claustrophobically judgmental social circle, to her priggish grown children — are over-the-top yet believable at their core.

What really makes this and other key Sirk films so memorable, however, is their unique, consistently stunning visual style. Vibrant colors are used to strategic effect here to convey characters’ increasingly intense emotions, with nearly every shot perfectly designed and framed to convey a certain sensibility. Check out the bottom still below, for instance, in which Wyman’s face is highlighted in the screen of the television set her children have purchased for her as a “companion” — she’s surrounded on either side by the salesmen who have eagerly set it up for her, but her forlorn expression is undeniable. Much schmaltzier are the images framing Wyman’s final encounters with Hudson (that deer!), which definitely shift the film into high melodrama — but by this point we’re invested enough in Wyman’s happiness that we simply accept what Sirk offers up to us, schmaltz and all.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Jane Wyman as Cary
  • Agnes Moorehead as Sara
  • Vibrant Technicolor cinematography
  • Effectively stylized sets
  • Sirk’s consistently innovative visual sensibility

Must See?
Yes, as a cult favorite by a notable director. Listed as a Sleeper and a Cult Movie in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Important Director

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

Links:

Big Clock, The (1948)

Big Clock, The (1948)

“Oh, Miss York, where are the green clocks of yesteryear?”

Synopsis:
An over-worked editor (Ray Milland) whose wife (Margaret O’Sullivan) is weary of his insane work schedule goes out drinking one night with a sympathetic colleague (Rita Johnson), and learns the next day that she’s been murdered. His overbearing boss (Charles Laughton) — who, as Johnson’s jealous lover, committed the murder himself, but is desperate to blame it on the shadowy figure he saw leaving Johnson’s apartment — tasks Milland with heading an investigation to determine this mysterious man’s identity, not knowing it was Milland himself.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Charles Laughton Films
  • Elsa Lanchester Films
  • Framed
  • George Macready Films
  • Journalists
  • Living Nightmare
  • Maureen O’Sullivan Films
  • Ray Milland Films
  • Tycoons

Review:
The synopsis above hints at the complexity of this dense but fascinating and finely paced “murder mystery”, in which an egomaniacal tycoon (Laughton) shamelessly attempts to shift the blame for a murder he has committed onto someone else. The story — deftly directed by John Farrow (who cast his wife, O’Sullivan, in a small and somewhat thankless role) — occurs in flashback, as a panicked Milland recounts how he ended up in hiding from the police in his own office building — a futuristic edifice with an enormous clock (hence the title) meant to represent the God-like command held by Laughton, who micro-manages his employees to an extent that would be laughable if it weren’t sadly believable. Anyone who’s ever been pressured to give 110% to their job will relate to Milland’s frustration at being unable, even after years of dedicated service, to take a much-deserved holiday with his wife; the irony, of course, is that even after steeling himself to stand up to Laughton and quit his job, Laughton’s sway holds fierce, as Milland suddenly finds himself caught up in the ultimate living nightmare.

What’s perhaps most impressive is how neatly all the elements of Jonathan Latimer’s intricate screenplay fall into place, with each facet of Milland’s ill-advised drinking spree — his request for a “green clock” at a bar, his purchase of a surreal painting at a pawnshop after bargaining with another would-be owner (Elsa Lanchester) — coming back to haunt him. (Lanchester’s role — she’s as delightful as ever — becomes nicely fleshed out as we learn she’s actually the painting’s creator, and she ends up playing a critical role in the investigation.) Adding to the complexity of the entire narrative, of course, is the fact that Laughton doesn’t know Milland is the man he’s trying to frame, and that Milland — renowned for his amateur sleuthing abilities — is ultimately trying to track down himself. It’s all a giddy, nerve-wracking delight — and while I’m always the first to complain if I feel a narrative contains too many details for viewers to easily hold in place, thankfully that isn’t the case here. Fine performances all-around, as well as appropriately noir-ish cinematography and effective set designs, make this one a memorable treat on multiple levels.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Ray Milland as George Stroud
  • Charles Laughton as Earl Janoth
  • Rita Johnson as Pauline York
  • Elsa Lanchester as Louise Patterson
  • Effectively “futuristic” sets
  • John Seitz’s cinematography
  • Fine direction by John Farrow
  • Jonathan Latimer’s clever screenplay

Must See?
Yes, as an effective, smartly crafted noir thriller.

Categories

  • Good Show

Links:

Lady Eve, The (1941)

Lady Eve, The (1941)

“I need him like the axe needs the turkey.”

Synopsis:
A con-artist (Barbara Stanwyck) on-board a cruise ship with her cardsharp father (Charles Coburn) falls in love with a naive ophiologist (Henry Fonda) she originally sets out to dupe. Before she can reveal her true identity to him, however, he becomes wise to her scam and shuns her completely. Stanwyck seeks revenge by posing as the aristocratic niece of a con-artist Earl (Eric Blore), and seduces Fonda all over again — but what are her ultimate intentions?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Barbara Stanwyck Films
  • Charles Coburn Films
  • Con-Artists
  • Gold Diggers
  • Henry Fonda Films
  • Millionaires
  • Mistaken or Hidden Identities
  • Preston Sturges Films
  • Revenge
  • Romantic Comedy

Response to Peary’s Review:
In his review of this critically acclaimed romantic comedy by writer/director Preston Sturges, Peary notes that “Sturges takes standard screwball-comedy material” — reminiscent of other notable titles in the genre, including both Bringing Up Baby and The Awful Truth — and “turns it into a zany classic”. He points out that the “film has an irresistible blend of quirky characters, snappy dialogue, slapstick, and sex” — an abbreviated listing of all the critical elements that make Sturges’ best work so memorable. Of these elements, the latter is perhaps the most surprising and refreshing (how in the world did Sturges get his script past the Hays Office???). Roger Ebert, in his “Great Movies” review, argues that the infamous ~4 minute static shot about 20 minutes into the story — when Stanwyck “toys with Fonda’s hair” — is his personal selection for the “single scene in all of romantic comedy that [is] sexiest and funniest at the same time”; indeed, it’s likely the humor of the scene that managed to assuage would-be morality police from complaint — but it remains a dilly of an erotic/romantic moment on-screen!

What’s most memorable about The Lady Eve, however, are the performances by the odd-couple leads — both at the top of their game. Peary accurately notes that Fonda (never the most exciting of actors) “will surprise you with his skillful pratfalls” (they’re numerous, and all exceedingly well-done), and argues that “Stanwyck is so personable and vivacious that you feel… all the men whose money she stole got their money’s worth”. Peary names Stanwyck Best Actress of the Year in his Alternate Oscars book for 1941, though he ultimately selects her performance in Ball of Fire over this one simply because he “likes her character better” in that film; but he rightfully argues that she’s “flawless in both comedies”. Her complex character here undergoes a tremendous character arc, allowing herself to unexpectedly fall in love, then reverting to wily cynicism when her heart is broken, and magically transforming into a glamorous, seductive, yet hilarious noblewoman who convincingly has dozens of men literally drooling at her feet. She bats not an eye when silently daring Fonda to doubt the veracity of her outrageous assumed persona — yet we can easily see both her vulnerability and her scorned-woman wrath hovering close beneath the surface.

Peary culminates his brief review of The Lady Eve by arguing that the “film would match Sullivan’s Travels” — which he nominates as Best Picture of the Year in his Alternate Oscars — “if it didn’t peter out near the end”; however, I’m actually a bigger fan of this title, made the same year. I disagree completely that the film’s ending (reminiscent, in a way, of the denouement to Billy Wilder’s The Major and the Minor) is a cop-out; as Ebert puts it in his “Greatest Films” review, the final two lines are “equal to the classic line ‘Nobody’s perfect!” at the end of Some Like It Hot.” A final kudos should be given to Edith Head and her minions for a set of marvelous outfits; Stanwyck has never looked more enticing. As Peary puts it, “cheers to her wardrobe designer”.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Barbara Stanwyck as Eve (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in his Alternate Oscars book)
  • Henry Fonda as Charles
  • Edith Head’s costumes
  • A consistently delightful and witty script, full of intriguing throw-away lines:

    “I used to go with a little Eskimo dame…”
    “I knew a guy who married the same woman three times, then turned around and married her aunt.”

Must See?
Yes, as a true classic of the screwball genre.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

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

Links: