Phffft (1954)

Phffft (1954)

“I’m no longer interested in beds.”

Synopsis:
A recently divorced husband (Jack Lemmon) and wife (Judy Holliday) navigate the tricky world of dating while gradually recognizing that they’re still in love with one another.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Divorce
  • Flashback Films
  • Jack Carson Films
  • Jack Lemmon Films
  • Judy Holliday Films
  • Kim Novak Films
  • Mark Robson Films
  • Romantic Comedy

Review:
Judy Holliday and Jack Lemmon are perfectly paired in this sprightly romantic comedy (directed by Mark Robson, and scripted by George Axelrod) about a recently divorced couple who are clearly meant to end up right back in one another’s arms; with this understanding fully in mind, one watches the couple’s quibbling and travails with a sense of bemusement rather than discomfort. The film isn’t entirely successful, with some scenes working better than others: for instance, Holliday’s first post-divorce date — with the narcissistic star (Donald Curtis) of her hit radio show — is played much too broadly:

… but her scenes with the inimitable Jack Carson (as Lemmon’s playboy roommate) go in unexpected directions:

… and Lemmon’s dalliance with a sexy young student (Kim Novak, having fun channeling Marilyn Monroe):

… is an interesting foreshadowing of his scenes as traumatized Oscar Madison interacting with the Pigeon sisters in The Odd Couple (1968).

My favorite scenario, however, is a wordless one in which Holliday and Lemmon meet each other unexpectedly on the dance floor, flaunting their new moves (they’ve both taken dance lessons) while doing the mambo; one wonders how long it took them to coordinate their physical timing, and to learn to dance so perfectly awkwardly.

(All of this is made doubly impressive knowing that Holliday was sick as a dog throughout most of the shooting, and reported feeling like she was sleep-walking through many of her scenes.) Another fun scene has Lemmon — cautiously exercising his newly single muscles while driving a sporty car — attempting to flirt with a sexy woman on the sidewalk, only to have her turn around and reveal she’s Holliday.


Silly? Yes. Unrealistic? Sure. But Holliday and Lemmon are such gifted comedians that we can’t help enjoying their work together throughout this light-hearted romp. If only all divorces were so easily remedied.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Judy Holliday as Nina
  • Jack Carson as Charlie
  • Lemmon and Holliday’s hilarious dancing scene

Must See?
No, though it’s definitely recommended simply for the performances.

Links:

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)

“We are like two trains, halted for a moment at the same station, but we are going in different directions. We can’t change our course, any more than we can hold back the dawn.”

Synopsis:
A Romanian gigolo (Charles Boyer) living near the U.S./Mexico border hopes to gain entrance to the U.S. by marrying a naive young schoolteacher (Olivia de Havilland) — but will his jealous lover (Paulette Goddard) foil his plans?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Charles Boyer Films
  • Con-Artists
  • Immigrants and Immigration
  • Mitchell Leisen Films
  • Olivia de Havilland Films
  • Paulette Goddard Films
  • Romance

Review:
Mitchell Leisen directed this far-fetched but touching romance set in the “gritty” (albeit highly sanitized) world of immigration limbo. Much about the screenplay (written by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder, based on a story by Ketti Frings) defies belief: would Boyer really be so instantly successful with the first woman he tries to woo? Would de Havilland really be so instantly swayed by his charms?

(And why in the world was beautiful de Havilland so consistently cast in “plain Jane” roles?) Regardless, Hold Back the Dawn is meant to function purely as Hollywood escapist fare, and to that end it works reasonably well. Despite knowing that de Havilland is being duped, we can’t help enjoying the blossoming of her romance with Boyer, given our conviction that Boyer will surely come to see the folly of his ways. The screenplay is nicely book-ended by Boyer’s character visiting a Hollywood studio and attempting to sell his story to a director (Leisen himself, in cameo); watch for fun cameos as well by Veronica Lake and Richard Webb, shown rehearsing a clip from Leisen’s I Wanted Wings (1941).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Charles Boyer as George (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actors of the Year in his Alternate Oscars)
  • Olivia de Havilland as Emmy (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in Alternate Oscars)

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

Links:

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, The (1962)

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, The (1962)

“Somebody better listen to somebody about Liberty Valance!”

Synopsis:
A beloved politician (Jimmy Stewart) returns with his wife (Vera Miles) to the small Western town where he’s famous for having killed a bullying gunslinger named Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin); but as he begins to relate the story of his relationship with the recently deceased town drunk, Tom Doniphon (John Wayne), new details about the killing emerge.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • John Carradine Films
  • John Ford Films
  • John Qualen Films
  • John Wayne Films
  • Lee Marvin Films
  • Lee Van Cleef Films
  • Revenge
  • Westerns
  • Woody Strode Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary argues that this “marvelous John Ford western” — about the transition from an untamed western frontier to an era of “law and order”, as well as our tendency to valorize legends at the expense of the grittier truth — “looks better with every viewing”, and “certainly… summarized themes that were vital to earlier Ford westerns”. He notes that “for Ford, the real heroes were men like Tom who tamed the wilderness and made it possible for civilization to take root”, and he points out that “it is a shame that such pioneers have no place in civilization”, given that “in a law-and-order world of lawyers and politicians, Tom is just as anachronistic as gunslingers like Liberty”. He writes that the “picture has interesting characters and their relationships with each other are complex”, and he argues that the “picture has strong emotional resonance”. As noted in TCM’s article, upon its release …Valance was apparently dismissed as a lesser entry in Ford’s lengthy oeuvre, with specific criticisms leveled at Ford’s choice to make the film in black-and-white and primarily on a sound-stage; but in later years, critics (like Peary and many others) began to recognize its thematic and aesthetic values.

While I appreciate much about how …Valance is constructed, I’ll admit it’s not a personal favorite. Ford’s characteristic inclusion of comedic supporting characters — most specifically Andy Devine’s cowardly sheriff, presumably meant to provide some levity to the proceedings — simply feels forced and out of place here; and Stewart’s idealistic, stubborn “young” lawyer comes across as merely another iteration of his earlier starring roles for Frank Capra. With that said, I admire the craftsmanship of the script (based on a story by Dorothy M. Johnson), which manages to evoke a surprising amount of tension despite the fact that we can guess the truth behind the title from the beginning; however, it starts to bog down a bit towards the end, when Stewart goes head-to-head with Marvin in a contrived, Capra-esque town hall scene, and Wayne (“Think back, pilgrim.”) conveniently saves the day. Speaking of Marvin, he deserved the notoriety he gained for his key role here as Liberty Valance; he represents everything corrupt and vile about a lawless west in which might overtakes right every time.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Lee Marvin as Liberty Valance
  • William Clothier’s cinematography

  • The impressive final shoot-out

Must See?
Yes, as one of Ford’s acknowledged classics. Listed as one of the Best Films of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

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

Links:

28 Up (1984)

28 Up (1984)

“Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man.”

Synopsis:
A group of diverse British children are interviewed at the ages of 7, 14, 21, and 28.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Documentary
  • Michael Apted Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
I’ll be cheating a bit in my review of this “unique, fascinating documentary” by Michael Apted, which “began as a television short called 7 Up,” in which a “crew interviewed 14 seven-year-old school-children about what they wanted in their futures in regard to education, occupation, money, and marriage”, and then interviewed them again every seven years, with snippets from each set of interviews strategically interwoven. Peary’s review in GFTFF is of 28 Up (1984), but most film fanatics today will likely also have seen the follow-up entries — 35 Up (1991), 42 Up (1998), 49 Up (2005), and 56 Up (2012) — and I find it impossible not to reference the entire series in my own response. With that said, Peary makes a few key points in his review that remain relevant for all of the films in the series: he writes, for instance, that “the viewer is placed in an awkward position in that s/he becomes a judge as to whether these 28-year-olds [or 35, 42, 49, 56-year-olds] have succeeded, as most contend they have, in reaching their potential happiness; and the unfortunate tendency… is to feel superior to most of these people who have lives we don’t envy”.

Peary further asserts that in 28 Up, “the ‘successes’ we see are those subjects who have somehow achieved some freedom” — such as Nick, “the science researcher who… fled with his wife to Wisconsin” and Paul, “the bricklayer who is raising a family in Australia”; but he pities both Neil, the “near-genius who has dropped out altogether and lives on welfare” and “a cabbie [Tony] who is satisfied with [the] ‘freedom’ he gets from his job and his close family life, but whose poor education deprived him of what a person of his natural intelligence and warmth deserves”. He argues that the “picture leaves you sad”, but notes that “surely a documentary on any seven [sic] subjects taken over 20 [sic] years would have the same result because, let’s face it, kids look happier, cuter, and more enthusiastic than adults”. Interestingly, seeing the participants at later ages (specifically 56, as in the most recent entry) allows one to feel a little less melancholy about the inevitability of both heredity and class, as nearly every participant seems to have achieved some measure of happiness and contentment — whether through (re)marriage, grandchildren, and/or career. Few, for instance, would feel sorry at this point for Tony, who has actually achieved an enviable measure of financial success (he owns a second home in Spain); and while Neil has continued to struggle with his mental challenges, he’s been able to pursue his dream of a career in politics.

Apted’s series has been rightfully praised over the years as an invaluable longitudinal document of humanity itself — regardless of its specificity in following Britons from a certain generation (and mostly white males, an initial “casting” choice Apted apparently regrets). While there’s nothing particularly innovative about the way in which Apted films his subjects, or the questions he asks them, his devotion in tracking down the participants like clockwork every seven years (or occasionally in between, as when he filmed a participant’s wedding) is an impressive feat in itself. (Apted is reportedly so devoted to this project that he’s said he hopes someone else will take up the mantle in the event of his own death; he’d like to follow the participants to the ends of their lives.) One also feels appreciation for the dedication of the participants, all but one of whom have chosen to reappear in most (or all) of the episodes; long before the advent of “reality T.V.”, they have graciously allowed at least portions of their lives to be on public display. Most film fanatics will eagerly await the next installment, and hope that all the “children” — Andrew, Bruce, Jackie, John, Lynn, Neil, Nick, Paul, Peter, Sue, Suzy, Symon, and Tony — will still be alive and well at the age of 63 and beyond.

Note: Devoted followers will enjoy watching the entire “Up Series” (as the DVD set is referred to); others may simply want to watch 56 Up and work backwards as desired.

Update (1/9/21): Rest in Peace, Michael Apted. Thank you for your contributions to cinema and our understanding of humanity.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • An enduringly fascinating long-term social document

Must See?
Yes, as part of a deservedly classic documentary series.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic

Links:

Stagecoach (1939)

Stagecoach (1939)

“There are some things a man just can’t run away from.”

Synopsis:
A diverse group of passengers — including a prostitute (Claire Trevor), an alcoholic doctor (Thomas Mitchell), a gambler (John Carradine), a whiskey seller (Donald Meek), a shady banker (Berton Churchill), a sheriff (George Bancroft), and the pregnant wife (Louise Platt) of a cavalry officer — embark on a stagecoach trip led by a nervous driver (Andy Devine), despite warning of warring Apaches up ahead. Along the way, Bancroft picks up an escaped prisoner (John Wayne) who falls for Trevor — but will they survive both the rigors of their journey, and the outlaws waiting for Wayne at their final destination?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Claire Trevor Films
  • George Bancroft Films
  • John Carradine Films
  • John Ford Films
  • John Wayne Films
  • Morality Police
  • Prostitutes and Gigolos
  • Road Trip
  • Thomas Mitchell Films
  • Westerns

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary opens his review of this “seminal” John Ford western — written by Dudley Nichols, whose “script was adapted from Ernest Haycox‘s story ‘Stage to Lordsburg'” — by accurately referring to it as “the type of film you’ll take for granted”, and noting that “between viewings, one forgets what a magnificent film [it] is”. He adds that “Ford kept it simple — it is a simple morality play — but directed with great feeling for the West, the time, and for his characters”, and notes that “it’s obvious that the actors really cared about the people they played”. He points out that while “we may [primarily] recall the action scenes — a lengthy Indian attack on the stage, John Wayne as the Ringo Kid shooting it out with three bad guys” — one “sees that Ford is more interested in how characters respond to danger — for instance, are they worrying about themselves or others when lives are at stake?” Indeed, Stagecoach is essentially a compelling, character-driven drama couched within a consistently suspenseful western-adventure, and bolstered by a sweet romance — the perfect recipe for a genuine American classic!

I believe this was the film that sparked my admiration for character-actress Claire Trevor as a teenage film fanatic; I recall learning that she considered herself merely a “working stiff” in Hollywood, trying to survive as a single mother, and that I felt intense admiration for her no-nonsense approach to a notoriously ego-filled field. She’s top-billed among the ensemble cast here, and deserves this status, given that she’s the emotional glue holding the stagecoach passengers together. When Platt suddenly gives birth along the journey (during the film’s most heartfelt extended sequence), Trevor selflessly cares for the newborn while Platt recovers; and when she’s given the unprecedented opportunity (by Wayne) to turn her life around, she cares more about his safety than her own future. Speaking of Wayne, he’s never been more charismatic or appealing than he is here (as Peary points out, “What an entrance Ford gave him!”); and the rest of the “marvelously cast” supporting players — Mitchell, Meek, Carradine, unknown Platt, and others — are excellent as well. I especially like how nearly every character in the story is given an arc of some kind, and allowed to emerge by the film’s end as someone much more nuanced than we could ever have expected.

All this in a “mere” western! — one which, on the surface, seems like simply a conglomeration of conventional characters and situations, yet comes together so seamlessly it’s been studied as a masterwork by countless famed directors (most notably Orson Welles). Indeed, Stagecoach is an excellent example of a solid genre flick which simultaneously functions as a vehicle for deeper musings on human nature. To that end, Peary notes that “the coach serves as an arena for a clash between those who represent society” (the banker, the doctor, the married woman, and the salesman) and “those whom society considers outsiders” (the escaped prisoner, the prostitute, the gambler) — with nearly all the former passengers (the corrupt banker being a key exception) “won over” by the latter, and the driver and sheriff remaining “outside on the ride through the wilderness” (they represent “neutral figures who are part of civilization but have open minds towards those who don’t fit in”).

While I’m not generally a fan of Ford’s characteristic incorporation of humor throughout his films (usually in the form of buffoonish characters), in this case he uses humor as a starting point for some surprisingly heartwarming revelations: Mitchell’s tippling doctor, for instance, eventually sobers up enough to deliver Platt’s baby (and to be of genuine help during the pivotal, excitingly directed Indian attack); Meek may initially stand “meekly” by while Mitchell downs his supply, but he ultimately proves he’s more than merely a spineless sap; Devine’s whimpering ninny of a stagecoach driver keeps going despite his own worst fears (which come true); etc.

Regardless of whether one chooses to view this film as part of Ford’s broader oeuvre — or merely as an engaging flick in its own right — it remains a must-see classic, one worthy of multiple enjoyable visits.

Note: Interestingly, at the time he directed Stagecoach, Ford — who’s largely remembered these days for helming countless classic westerns — hadn’t made one in 13 years, since the silent western Three Bad Men (1926).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Claire Trevor as Dallas
  • John Wayne as the Ringo Kid
  • Donald Meek as Mr. Peacock
  • Thomas Mitchell as Doc Boone
  • Bert Glennon’s “magnificent” cinematography
  • Iconic use of Monument Valley as a backdrop
  • Expert direction by Ford
  • The genuinely exciting Apache attack sequence
  • An Oscar-winning score “adapted from American folk songs”

Must See?
Yes, of course — this one is a genuine classic, and ranks among my
personal favorite westerns. Nominated one of the Best Films of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

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

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

Links:

Devil Doll (1964)

Devil Doll (1964)

“They’re not applauding you — they’re applauding me! Yes, me, Hugo — the dummy!”

Synopsis:
A journalist (William Sylvester) hoping to learn the secret of a mysterious ventriloquist (Bryant Haliday) whose dummy is strangely mobile enlists the help of his beautiful, wealthy girlfriend (Yvonne Romain), unknowingly putting her life at risk.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Horror Films
  • Journalists
  • Mind Control and Hypnosis
  • Puppets and Ventriloquism

Review:
Fans of the “Ventriloquist’s Dummy” sequence in the classic British horror anthology Dead of Night (1945) may be curious to check out this unofficial homage, in which the title dummy is also named Hugo — though the tables of diabolical control in this case have been shifted from puppet to master. The pacing is overall too slow, and several moments (i.e., Romain being hypnotized into dancing onstage) are downright silly — but director Lindsay Shonteff and DP Gerald Gibbs do an adequate job evoking tension and menace within their low budget, and one remains curious until the end about Hugo’s secret (which involves a twist finale). The actors are decent for what essentially amounts to an exploitation flick — especially Haliday, whose creepy performance is reminiscent of Christopher Lee (surely intentional); meanwhile, fans of The Last of Sheila (1973) may enjoy seeing “Sheila” herself (sexy Romain) in a more substantial role.

Note: Other Peary-listed titles in the ventriloquism sub-genre include the terribly boring Erich von Stroheim vehicle The Great Gabbo (1929), and the disappointing Danny Kaye Cold War spoof Knock on Wood (1954).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Reasonably effective low-budget direction and cinematography

  • A surprisingly strong sense of menace


Must See?
No, though it’s worth a look as a cult curiosity. Listed as a Sleeper and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Lonely Hearts (1982)

Lonely Hearts (1982)

“You’re nearly fifty, you know – you’ve got to do something with your life!”

Synopsis:
When his mother dies, a 49-year-old bachelor (Norman Kaye) begins dating a pretty, inexperienced young woman (Wendy Hughes) with overly controlling parents. Though Kaye and Hughes get along famously, Hughes’ sexual repression eventually puts a kink in their relationship.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Australia
  • Dating
  • Romance
  • Sexual Repression

Review:
Australian director Paul Cox became known to U.S. audiences with the release of this amiable, sensitive romance about two awkward souls falling in love. Kaye and Hughes — fixtures of Australian cinema — are both impeccable in the lead roles; gorgeous Hughes somehow manages to instantly convince us that her “mousy” character is repressed and awkward, while balding Kaye radiates a unique kind of confidence and likable quirkiness (his grin says so much!). The screenplay is gently paced, never in a hurry, instead showing us the natural unfolding of this new couple’s love and respect for one another. They go out to eat and drink; listen to records; take leisurely strolls and kiss; have dinner with Kaye’s controlling sister (Julia Blake) and her husband (Jonathan Hardy); and join a local theater production of Strindberg’s The Father, run by a hilariously overwrought martinet (Jon Finlayson). Lurking in the background is Kaye’s desire to begin a sexual relationship with Hughes, and Hughes’ fear of this inevitable progression. While one wishes at times for a bit more explanation of certain character traits — Kaye’s struggle with kleptomania comes out of nowhere, for instance — it’s difficult to quibble with the overall sincerity of this sweet Australian flick.

Favorite (reaction to a) line: “A Swedish pastor.” (!!)

Note: Cox’s other Peary-listed film is Man of Flowers (1983), also starring Kaye.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Norman Kaye as Peter
  • Wendy Hughes as Patricia
  • Jon Finlayson as George
  • Jonathan Hardy as Bruce
  • A sensitively filmed tale of emergent romance

Must See?
Yes, for the stellar lead performances, and as a fine, refreshingly unassuming romance. Listed as a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book. Winner of the Australian Academy Award for Best Picture.

Categories

  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

Links:

Magician, The (1958)

Magician, The (1958)

“You represent what I detest most of all: the unexplainable.”

Synopsis:
In 1840s Sweden, a mute magician (Max von Sydow) and his troupe arrive in a small town, where the police commissioner (Toivo Powlo), a doctor (Gunnar Bjornstrand), and a civil servant (Erland Josephson) all attempt to determine whether von Sydow’s powers are real or illusionary.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Ingmar Bergman Films
  • Magicians
  • Max von Sydow Films
  • Morality Police
  • Scandinavian Films

Review:
According to IMDb, Ingmar Bergman directed no less than 67 films (including some made-for-TV titles and some shorts) over the course of his lengthy career; of these, Peary lists 18 in his GFTFF. The Magician (also known as Ansiktet, or The Face) is chronologically the fifth “entry” in his book, following The Naked Night / Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), Smiles of a Summer Night (1955), Wild Strawberries (1957), and The Seventh Seal (1957); of these, it bears most resemblance to The Naked Night in its focus on travelling performers, who represent a disruptive presence to staid Scandinavian morality. In both films, Bergman compassionately yet ruthlessly reveals the hidden vulnerabilities of those whose calling is to provide respite and/or entertainment to the masses — and in The Magician, Bergman simultaneously exposes “magic” (a proxy for cinema?) as a necessary deception, a tool we use to allow ourselves the enjoyment and satisfaction we crave. In one particularly humorous and bawdy vignette, for instance, a cook lets herself be sweet-talked by a salesman in the troupe, revealing shortly thereafter that she’s aware his “love potion” is a sham but doesn’t mind, since her real goal is to bed him. (Ah, these refreshingly frank Scandinavian films! How 1950s American audiences must have eaten them up!)

This being a Bergman film, however, other vignettes are much less light-hearted. The central storyline — regarding von Sydow’s mute magician and his wife (Ingrid Thulin), dressed to look like his young male accomplice as part of their collective disguise — involves scandal, shame, and infidelity; and a subplot involving a suicidal traveler (Bengt Ekerot – “Death” in The Seventh Seal, though you may not recognize him) is decidedly grim. It’s to Bergman’s credit that he manages to mix sensibilities so fluidly throughout his episodic narrative, shifting easily from comedy to tragedy as various characters’ stories come together to tell a broader thematic tale. Bergman seems to be arguing that we all want to be “seduced” (visually, romantically, metaphorically) in one way or another, yet we simultaneously crave rational control over ourselves and our environment; the question is, can these conflicting goals co-exist? Unfortunately, The Magician‘s narrative gets a bit muddled towards the end, making it less satisfying as a whole than it could be; however, it remains worthy viewing at least once by all film fanatics.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Gunnar Fischer’s cinematography
  • Fine performances by the entire cast
  • Bergman’s slyly satirical screenplay

Must See?
Yes, as yet another provocative early Bergman film. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Foreign Gem
  • Important Director

Links:

Ordet / Word, The (1955)

Ordet / Word, The (1955)

“And the rest of us, all the rest of us, we go straight down to hell to eternal torments, don’t we?”

Synopsis:
The youngest son (Cay Kristiansen) of a cynical Danish farmer (Henrik Malberg) wishes to marry the daughter (Sylvia Eckhausen) of a religiously fundamentalist tailor (Ejner Federspiel), though both fathers disapprove; meanwhile, Malberg’s son Johannes (Preben Lerdorf Rye) believes he’s Jesus Christ, while the gentle wife (Birgite Federspiel) of his son Mikkel prepares to give birth to her third child.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Carl Theodor Dreyer Films
  • Death and Dying
  • Mental Illness
  • Play Adaptations
  • Religious Faith
  • Scandinavian Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary posits that the theme of Carl Theodore Dreyer’s adaptation of a “play by [Danish hero] Kaj Munk” — about “a proud, elderly Christian farmer whose faith has all but disappeared because of the lack of miracles in modern times” — “is that people, even priests, shouldn’t let faith in God diminish”, and that “those who are regarded as insane are actually closest to God”. To that end, one’s appreciation for this critically lauded parable will depend upon one’s willingness to accept it as something other than a traditional cinematic tale; Dreyer’s intention is not to entertain, but to provoke. However, as Peary notes, while the “beginning of the film is charming due to the simplicity of the sets and the characters” (he jokingly writes that “it wouldn’t be jarring if June Lockhart, Tommy Rettig, and Lassie dropped in for a visit”), it “becomes drawn out and silly”; he argues that while “it might work as a story told in church”, “as a film it is far-fetched”.

I’ll admit I’m essentially in agreement with Peary’s take on this one. Unlike most other reviewers (whose praise is unreserved), I find it overly slow and a tad pretentious, not to mention terribly depressing — in sum, everything Scandinavian films from this era are stereotyped as being (but see Bergman’s Smiles of a Summer Night [1955] for a refreshing counter-example). With that said, there’s no denying either the power of Dreyer’s imagery, or the integrity of his intentions; film fanatics will want to check this one out at least once, and make up their own minds about its ultimate place in the world’s cinematic canon.

Note: I was fascinated to learn (from a citation on Wikipedia) that this film was not only a critical success but a financial success as well; my, how audience tastes have changed…

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Committed performances by the entire cast

  • Dreyer’s typically stunning visual sensibility

Must See?
Yes, simply as one of Ordet’s most celebrated works — though your enjoyment will be highly variable.

Categories

  • Important Director

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

Links:

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)

“Men never know what’s best for them; we have to put them on the right track.”

Synopsis:
When a middle-aged lawyer (Gunnar Bjornstrand) married to a virginal teen (Ulla Jacobssen) pays a visit to his long-time mistress (Eva Dahlbeck), he encounters her most recent lover (Jarl Kulle), who jealously proposes a duel; meanwhile, Bjornstrand’s grown son (Bjorn Bjelvenstam) harbors a secret crush on Jacobssen, while Kulle’s neglected wife (Margit Carlquist) is determined to win her husband back.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Historical Drama
  • Ingmar Bergman Films
  • Love Triangle
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Scandinavian Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that he views this “sophisticated bedroom farce” — “one of Ingmar Bergman’s most popular films” — “as a tribute… to those women who are clever and brave enough to shape their own worlds despite husbands and lovers who make up the rules.” He notes that while the “film has been compared to Lubitsch’s comedies of manners and Renoir’s Rules of the Game,” he is “more reminded of the works of Max Ophuls, whose men are ruled by pride and whose women are so guided by their hearts that they become obsessed with winning men who they realize aren’t worthy of them”. Indeed, the male characters in SOASN are so clearly “no prizes” that one can easily see why Scandinavian countries eventually became world leaders in feminist equality (!); the women here are, without exception, the ones with firm heads on their shoulders. Peary points out that while the “film is wise and cynical”, you’ll “also think it hilarious if you… pay attention to the indignities Bjornstrand suffers”, such as “fall[ing] headlong into a puddle”; being forced (by Dahlbeck) to “wear a ridiculous nightshirt, cap, and gown”; being unable to “get Dahlbeck to admit that her son, who has his first name, is his child”; etc. The film’s “excellent acting, [fine] photography (by Gunnar Fischer), [and] set design (by P.A. Lundgren)” all contribute towards the enjoyment of this early Bergman masterpiece.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Fine performances by the entire cast
  • Gunnar Fischer’s cinematography
  • Bergman’s clever, deceptively lighthearted screenplay

Must See?
Yes, as a classic of Scandinavian cinema.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

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

Links: