Annie Get Your Gun (1950)

Annie Get Your Gun (1950)

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

“A man never trifles with gals who carry rifles — oh, you can’t get a man with a gun.”

Synopsis:
A scraggly sharpshooter named Annie Oakley (Betty Hutton) becomes famous in the Wild West Show put on by Buffalo Bill Cody (Louis Calhern), but finds that her enormous crush on her performance partner (Howard Keel) is disrupted by their ongoing rivalry.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Battle of the Sexes
  • Betty Hutton Films
  • Edward Arnold Films
  • George Sidney Films
  • Howard Keel Films
  • Musicals
  • Rivalry
  • Strong Females
  • Westerns

Review:
Peary doesn’t list this infamously troubled musical (plagued by production concerns, and then out of circulation from 1973 until 2001) in his GFTFF — but he does nominate Hutton as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in his Alternate Oscars book, so I decided to check it out as a potential “Missing Title”, and review it here. Sadly, I don’t believe it is “must see”. Despite a rousing score of hummable classic tunes by Irving Berlin (including “You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun”, “Doin’ What Comes Naturally”, “I Got the Sun in the Morning”, “Anything You Can Do”, and “There’s No Business Like Show Business”, to name just a few), the storyline itself simply fails to engage. As in Calamity Jane (1953), the story centers on a rough-and-tumble female sharpshooter who must “clean herself up” and become more “feminine” in order to attract the man she loves (indeed, the narrative parallels are downright uncanny); however, while Doris Day’s Calamity Jane is a memorable three-dimensional character with plenty of personality and sass, Hutton’s Annie is simply hyperkinetic and somewhat annoying.

This is not necessarily the fault of Hutton, who invests her character with as much energetic enthusiasm as she gave to just about every other role she played; I believe the fault lies primarily with the narrative, which portrays tomboyish Annie as instantly infatuated with Keel’s “Frank Butler” (presumably for comedic value). Her slack-jawed reaction upon viewing him (repeated several times) simply comes across as cartoonish. Meanwhile, the subplot involving Annie’s “adoption” as the honorary daughter of Chief Sitting Bull (J. Carrol Naish) is not only silly, but leads to a number of downright offensive scenes with Native Americans. (Yes, I know, it’s all part of how things were perceived during that era — but that doesn’t stop it from being utterly unappealing.) In sum, while Hutton’s performance is worth a look, and the film itself was one of the most popular musicals of its time, this one is simply recommended rather than Must See.

Note: Check out Wikipedia’s article for more information about the film’s troubled production history; it originally starred Judy Garland, who became too ill to continue, and was ultimately fired by MGM.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Betty Hutton as Annie Oakley
  • A host of fine, rousingly performed Irving Berlin tunes

Must See?
No, but it’s recommended for one-time viewing simply to see Hutton in her most (in)famous role — and to enjoy the score.

Links:

Human Comedy, The (1943)

Human Comedy, The (1943)

“Try to remember that nothing good ever ends.”

Synopsis:
During World War II, a teenager (Mickey Rooney) in the small town of Ithaca, California takes a job as a telegram messenger to help support his widowed mother (Fay Bainter), his sister (Donna Reed), and his younger brother (Jackie “Butch” Jenkins) while his older brother (Van Johnson) is away at war. Meanwhile, his boss (James Craig) negotiates a romance with an upper-class girl (Marsha Hunt); his elderly co-worker (Frank Morgan) struggles to keep up with his job; and Johnson regales his orphaned army buddy (John Craven) with tales about how idyllic life is back in Ithaca.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Clarence Brown Films
  • Coming of Age
  • Donna Reed Films
  • Fay Bainter Films
  • Frank Morgan Films
  • Mickey Rooney Films
  • Small Town America
  • Van Johnson Films
  • World War Two

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary acknowledges that “director Clarence Brown shamelessly pulls all our heartstrings” in “this beautifully realized adaptation of Williams Saroyan’s wonderful novel about life in a small town during WWII”. He lists all the elements of “Americana” we see as the gently episodic film progresses, arguing that “we can’t help but feel waves of nostalgia, religion, and patriotism and develop a sense of family, duty/responsibility, and brotherhood” as a result. He calls out Mickey Rooney’s “moving performance as Homer McCauley”, and notes that the film is “filled with characters you’ll recognize, events that you may also have lived”. He asserts that “every few minutes your eyes will fill with tears — over something happy, sad, noble, familiar”, and ultimately posits that the “picture’s major theme is simple: all Americans are equal, all orphans in America… are part of the American family”.

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:

  • Mickey Rooney as Homer
  • Frank Morgan as Mr. Grogan
  • Jackie ‘Butch’ Jenkins as Ulysses
  • Fine cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a heartwarming, if somewhat dated, WWII-era classic.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic

Links:

Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, The (1944)

Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, The (1944)

“This is the biggest thing to happen to this state since we stole it from the Indians!”

Synopsis:
After attending a party for a group of soldiers about to be sent off to war, a young woman (Betty Hutton) accidentally finds herself married and pregnant, but unable to remember who her new husband is. With support from her younger sister (Diana Lynn), she conceals her situation from their father (William Demarest) and solicits help from her nebbishy suitor (Eddie Bracken), who is eager to marry her no matter what — but since she’s already technically married, will this solution work?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Akim Tamiroff Films
  • Betty Hutton Films
  • Brian Donlevy Films
  • Comedy
  • Do-Gooders
  • Pregnancy
  • Preston Sturges Films
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Small Town America

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary refers to this “wild Preston Sturges comedy” as “border[ing] on being tasteless”, and argues that the “frenetic comedy with rapid-fire dialogue doesn’t reach [the] sophistication of other Sturges films”. While acknowledging that the “dialogue is clever” and that there are “moments of genuine hilarity”, he ultimately feels it’s “a bit smutty”. I disagree. Sturges’ ability to milk the letter of the Production-Code-law to such an outrageous degree — she got married, didn’t she? so what does it matter that she wasn’t actually “conscious” or conscientious at the time, and essentially gave up her virginity to a stranger? — is absolutely priceless, and a great deal of the fun to be had lies in appreciating his clever work-arounds. Meanwhile, the casting of hapless Eddie Bracken as Hutton’s eventual romantic partner is inspired; Peary says he “wishes Bracken’s Norval Jones weren’t such a pushover” but this is precisely what his role calls for — and he certainly steps up when needed.

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:

“The trouble with kids is they always figure they’re smarter than their parents — never stop to think if their old man could get by for 50 years and feed ’em and clothe ’em, he maybe had something up here to get by with — things that seem like brain twisters to you might be very simple for him.”

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:

  • Betty Hutton as Trudy Kockenlocker
  • Eddie Bracken as Norval Jones
  • Diana Lynn as Emmy Kockenlocker
  • William Demarest as Trudy and Emmy’s dad
  • Sturges’ fast-paced, consistently hilarious, surprisingly risque screenplay

Must See?
Yes, as one of Sturges’ funniest masterpieces.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

Links:

Cloak and Dagger (1946)

Cloak and Dagger (1946)

“If anyone’s going to develop the atom bomb, you want it to be us — not the Nazis.”

Synopsis:
An American scientist (Gary Cooper) sent to Europe as a secret agent tries to help a fellow nuclear scientist (Vladimir Sokoloff) escape from a brutal Fascist regime, with the help of a beautiful Italian Resistance fighter (Lilli Palmer).

Genres:

Review:
Peary lists no less than 26 Fritz Lang films in his GFTFF, including (naturally) all of Lang’s best-known works, as well as a handful of his lesser-known titles — such as this one. Cloak and Dagger — based on a non-fiction book about the O.S.S. — remains an undistinguished but competently made war-era spy thriller, featuring a memorable performance by Lilli Palmer as the female lead:

and a storyline which, at the very least, keeps one engaged while watching. Cooper acquits himself reasonably well (people have complained that he doesn’t look like a nuclear scientist; what, pray tell, does a “nuclear scientist” look like??):

but unfortunately his character’s transformation from bookish lab rat to gallant spy isn’t particularly convincing; however, if you accept this mild implausibility, it’s easy enough to get caught up in his adventures. The best scene, taking place in a hallway, is a wordless one, reminiscent of the infamously dialogue-free “oven murder” scene in Hitchcock’s Torn Curtain (1966); it shows clear evidence of Lang’s directorial vision.

Note: Check out DVD Savant’s article to read more about “one of the most interesting post-production alterations ever done to an American film”.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Lilli Palmer as Gina
  • The wordless hallway fight sequence

Must See?
No, but it’s recommended.

Links:

Greatest Show on Earth, The (1952)

Greatest Show on Earth, The (1952)

“Is it me you’re worried about, or the circus?”

Synopsis:
A circus manager (Charlton Heston) hires a famous aerialist (Cornel Wilde) as a new star act, provoking the jealousy of one of his current aerialists (Betty Hutton), who was hoping to take center stage herself. Meanwhile, a clown (Jimmy Stewart) with a deep secret hides his identity behind a permanent mask of make-up, and an elephant-rider (Gloria Grahame) dating an aggressive trainer (Lyle Bettger) secretly pines for Heston.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Betty Hutton Films
  • Carnivals and Circuses
  • Cecil B. Demille Films
  • Charlton Heston Films
  • Cornel Wilde Films
  • Dorothy Lamour Films
  • Gloria Grahame Films
  • Jimmy Stewart Films
  • Lawrence Tierney Films
  • Love Triangle
  • Rivalry

Review:
Peary doesn’t review this notoriously “unworthy” Best Picture winner in his GFTFF (where he simply lists it in the back as a film with Historical Importance) — but in his Alternate Oscars, he summarily dismisses it as “entertaining junk”, noting that it likely won the award simply because “voters probably knew somebody in the all-star cast or huge production crew”. Peary’s certainly not alone in his cynical assessment; a quick glance at message boards on IMDb reveals the depth of many viewers’ frustration that such worthy Oscar contenders as Singin’ in the Rain and High Noon (for instance) were passed over in favor of TGSOE. (I’ve found that people tend to feel harshest about films they believe “undeservedly” stole critical kudos from acknowledged classics.)

At any rate, given its overall negative rap, I was surprised to find myself reasonably engaged as I revisited this over-the-top Technicolor spectacle (Cecil B. DeMille’s second-to-last directorial effort), which — as DVD Savant writes — “has too much color and too many varied circus acts to be boring.” I couldn’t seem to help getting caught up in the drama of it all — and darned if the central love quadrangle (between Heston, Hutton, Wilde, and Grahame) isn’t milked effectively until the very end, leaving you in “suspense” about who will end up with who. However, this faint praise is not meant to diminish the film’s more troublesome elements: it frequently (very frequently) devolves into campy melodrama; DeMille’s intrusive voice-over narration is often laughably grandiose; there’s some truly sloppy editing at times; the subplot involving Lawrence Tierney as a corrupt carny shyster is given too little screentime (we learn almost nothing about him — he simply appears, looking menacing); and there are far, far too many self-serving reaction shots of audience members gawking in wonder at the marvels of the circus (we get it already!).

At least the lead actors all seem game with the material. Hutton has been raked over the coals for her hyper-kinetic performance here, but what else would one expect from her? I actually think she’s wonderfully convincing as an acrobat (clearly she worked out quite a bit in preparation — before such things were so commonplace in Hollywood), and, as someone aggressively pursuing fame in her own life as well, she seems to suit her role to a tee. Heston is likewise perfectly cast as a man with so much “sawdust in his blood” that he literally breathes “circus” in and out. Wilde is the pleasant surprise of the bunch — he has rollicking fun with his role as a womanizing egomaniac with an alluring foreign accent (and what a body he crafted for the part!). Grahame’s role is frustratingly underwritten during the first half of the film, but she’s allowed more of a welcome presence during the second half. Stewart — notoriously remaining in make-up throughout the entire film — is appropriately subdued and mysterious in his critical role, which is based on a provocative premise. Meanwhile, the spectacle surrounding their various intertwining melodramas provides an interesting glimpse at what passed for entertainment in mid-century America — much of it (i.e., the acrobatic acts) remains just as thrilling today, while the remainder (i.e., the various “albums” paraded through the rings) is simply laughably quaint.

Note: Along with Tierney, poor Dorothy Lamour seems least-well-served here; her character is essentially a send-up of her previous glamour-girl roles (and watch for a silly cameo by her Road To… co-stars in the audience).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Cornel Wilde (having great fun) as the Great Sebastian
  • An interesting time capsule glimpse of mid-century circus life and performances


  • Plenty of unintentionally hilarious dialogue: “The only thing I like about you are your elephants.”

Must See?
Yes, simply for its historical notoriety.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Links:

Days of Wine and Roses (1962)

Days of Wine and Roses (1962)

“You and I were a couple of drunks on the sea of booze, and the boat sank.”

Synopsis:
A boozing PR man (Jack Lemmon) marries a beautiful secretary (Lee Remick) and turns her on to drinking, much to the chagrin of her hardworking father (Charles Bickford); soon both of them are fighting for their lives against alcoholism.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alcoholism and Drug Addiction
  • Blake Edwards Films
  • Charles Bickford Films
  • Jack Lemmon Films
  • Lee Remick Films
  • Marital Problems

Review:
As Peary suggests in his review of The Lost Weekend (1945), there probably aren’t many who “really enjoy movies about junkies or alcoholics trying to cure their addictions” — which leads me to confess that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to revisiting this esteemed entry in the genre, despite its status as a highly regarded, Oscar-nominated classic (by director Blake Edwards). I’m pleased to report, however, that despite its inevitably dreary subject matter (and occasional descents into staginess), it remains overall a powerful, finely crafted film with much to recommend — from the consistently high quality b&w cinematography by Philip Lathrop, to a hard-hitting script by JP Miller (based upon his 1958 Playhouse 90 teleplay), to fine performances throughout, particularly by Lemmon.

Indeed, it’s Lemmon’s performance here which ultimately kept me vitally engaged in the story. While his character starts off like simply a variation on the fun-loving jokesters he so often portrayed, Lemmon quickly invests his “Joe Clay” with far more depth and pathos than one might expect. We fully sympathize with the frustrations he feels in his job, and understand how the social drinking he’s expected to engage in likely accelerated his addictive approach to alcohol. When he’s first introduced on-screen, he’s already so immersed in destructive drinking patterns (without realizing it) that we can’t help wondering why Remick doesn’t react with a bit more concern — except for the fact that she appears to love him unconditionally. Indeed, it’s to Miller’s credit that so much care is taken to fully establish Lemmon and Remick’s characters as romantic individuals who fall deeply in love with one another before communal drinking enters the scene; they are clearly soulmates, which helps to ground the film as a tragic love story, first and foremost.

Lemmon’s inevitable next step is turning his beloved teetotalling wife on to boozing, in a much more disturbingly manipulative way than happens, for instance, between Al Pacino and Kitty Winn’s characters in 1971’s The Panic in Needle Park (wherein Winn is curious enough to try heroin herself, but is never pushed). Miller’s point, we learn, is that alcoholics will always try to push or guilt the ones they love into joining them — and that’s what perhaps remains most unique about this cinematic presentation of alcoholism: the way we witness its effects on a mutually drinking couple, not just an individual. To that end, Remick’s descent into alcoholism comes across as less authentic than Lemmon’s, perhaps due to the stage-bound nature of the screenplay, which skips across enormous periods of time. We see Remick tentatively joining her husband in a hard drink for the first time, and then suddenly alcohol has become so second-nature in their household that it’s causing irreparable damage. From what I’ve heard (and seen, in brief snippets), Piper Laurie — star of the original teleplay — was a bit more effective at portraying this undeniably complex character (though Remick remains sympathetic throughout, and certainly gives an impassioned performance).

Speaking of the teleplay, kudos must be given for the decision to retain the story’s original bleak yet realistic ending. It’s a respectful finale to the hard-hitting ride we’ve engaged in, and one appreciates the honesty it offers in its assessment of the chances for recovery. To that end, along with I’ll Cry Tomorrow (1955), it provides one of the earliest on-screen depictions of Alcoholics Anonymous as a viable option for alcoholics with nowhere left to turn (and Jack Klugman turns in a fine, subtle, believable performance as Lemmon’s AA mentor, patiently counseling him through the worst of his challenging decisions). It’s refreshing to finally hear alcoholism acknowledged as the mysterious addiction it is; what a positive shift from the days when alcoholic characters such as Ray Milland’s Don Birnam in The Lost Weekend (1945), or Susan Hayward’s Angie Conway in Smash-Up: The Story of a Woman (1947), were — out of sheer ignorance — implicitly condemned for their behavior.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Jack Lemmon as Joe
  • Lee Remick as Kirsten
  • Jack Klugman as Joe’s AA mentor, Jim
  • A powerful portrait of the devastation wreaked by alcoholism on a marriage
  • Gorgeous b&w cinematography

Must See?
Yes, for Lemmon’s powerhouse performance, and as director Blake Edwards’ most heartfelt work.

Categories

  • Noteworthy Performance(s)
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

Links:

Cape Fear (1962)

Cape Fear (1962)

“A type like that is an animal — so you’ve got to fight him like an animal.”

Synopsis:
A sexually deviant sociopath (Robert Mitchum) stalks the wife (Polly Bergen) and daughter (Lori Martin) of the lawyer (Gregory Peck) who testified against him eight years earlier; when Peck’s attempt to secure protection from a policeman (Martin Balsam) and a private investigator (Telly Savalas) fail to keep Mitchum away from his family, he resorts to more violent tactics.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Cat-and-Mouse
  • Ex-Cons
  • Gregory Peck Films
  • Martin Balsam Films
  • Revenge
  • Robert Mitchum Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary’s review of this “tense, often uncomfortable melodrama” (remade in 1991 by Martin Scorsese) is quite brief; he simply mentions that “the climax is extremely suspenseful”, and that “in a role almost as creepy as his bogus preacher in Night of the Hunter [1955], Mitchum plays one of the screen’s first sexual sadists”. Indeed, it was reviewing NOTH recently that prompted me to revisit this later film, simply out of curiosity to see how Mitchum’s two performances compare — and I must say I believe that Mitchum’s Max Cady is the “creepier” of the two. Cady is a terrifyingly brutal bastard, an intelligent but deluded and narcissistic sociopath who uses humans as fodder for a sick scenario of vengeance he’s playing out in his head. Indeed, the entire storyline for Cape Fear is a cat-and-mouse affair, with Mitchum slyly licking his paws and waiting for the moment when he knows he’ll be able to “pounce” on his vulnerable prey.

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:

  • Robert Mitchum as Max Cady
  • Atmospheric, noir-ish cinematography


  • Bernard Herrmann’s score

Must See?
Yes, as a powerful “once-must” thriller.

Categories

  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

Links:

Invisible Boy, The (1957)

Invisible Boy, The (1957)

“Don’t make such a fuss; he’s probably doing this just to get attention.”

Synopsis:
A young boy (Richard Eyer) whose scientist father (Philip Abbott) is obsessed with building a Super Computer befriends a time-traveling robot named Robby, who becomes brainwashed by the Computer into attempting to dominate the Earth.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Father and Child
  • Mind Control and Hypnosis
  • Robots
  • Science Fiction
  • World Domination

Review:
Forever known as the film that was made simply to get more mileage out of the expensive robot built for Forbidden Planet (1956), The Invisible Boy remains an odd little curio in its own right. Clearly a B-level production on many counts, much about the film comes across as simply laughable — such as the special effects used when the title character becomes invisible: i.e., his clothes simply sit there in the same spot as he contemplates his new status (wouldn’t he wriggle around at least a LITTLE bit?):

And if Robby the Robot dictates that everything within Eyer’s nearby “electromagnetic field” becomes invisible, too, why doesn’t the spoon he uses to noisily slurp soup in front of his parents disappear? However, many other elements about the film’s preposterous and convoluted storyline — which at first glance make one nearly guffaw from hysterics — turn out to have a “deeper” meaning, if you’re looking for it.

In essence, this entire film could be viewed as Eyer’s dream, given that he falls asleep not too far into the storyline:

… and such is the convention that we’ve learned to expect in movies — except…

(sorry for the spoiler; it’s relatively important to my argument here)

… he never “wakes up” at the end, thus leaving the situation intentionally (?) vague. As argued by one user on IMDb, Timmie (Eyer) not only becomes literally invisible; he starts off as “invisible” to his overworking father, who — as clearly established during the film’s opening sequences — views his non-mathematically-minded son as a huge disappointment.

Thus, everything that happens after Timmie falls asleep in front of the Super Computer (where his father has placed him for some extra tutoring) could be seen as simply a manifestation of Timmie’s fantasies. He’s finally able to beat his father at chess:

… he manipulates a robot — his new best friend — into doing his bidding (sending him up in a kite), even when this goes against the robot’s prime directive to not place any human in harm’s way:


… and his parents’ reactions to his invisibility are ridiculously ho hum: “Well, honey, these things all pass away in time”, says his father to his stereotypically demure ’50s wife (Diane Brewster). !!!

Indeed, everything about Timmie’s invisibility and the subsequent drama that ensues — involving a fairly serious amount of threat to Timmie’s very existence, not to mention the state of the Free World — occurs on a level that one soon realizes is not merely laughably implausible, but very much from a child’s perspective. I won’t say more here, since I’ve already spoiled enough, but suffice it to say that if you watch the film from this point of view, you may find yourself “appreciating” it on an entirely different level. In fact, it’s enough of a unique approach to the material that I found myself shifting my vote to “must see” for this reason alone; otherwise I would simply relegate it to a movie of minor historical interest for science fiction fans.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • A curiously clever, albeit undeniably low-budget, twist on a classic ’50s sci-fi tale

Must See?
Yes, as an unusual sci fi curio.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant

Links:

Badman’s Country (1958)

Badman’s Country (1958)

“I saw it today, Pat. Even without your badge, you were the lawman. You took over.”

Synopsis:
Retired sheriff Pat Garrett (George Montgomery) intends to marry his sweetheart (Karin Booth) and head to California, but is waylaid in Abilene, Kansas when notorious outlaw “Sundance” (Russell Johnson) and two cohorts appear in town, in anticipation of Butch Cassidy (Neville Brand) and his Wild Bunch Gang robbing a train headed straight towards them.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Neville Brand Films
  • Outlaws
  • Sheriffs
  • Westerns

Review:
When reading about this little-seen B-western (helmed by prolific B-director Fred F. Sears) on IMDb, one immediately notes in the “Goofs” section that “Although the plot has well-known actual western figures Pat Garrett, Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson and Buffalo Bill fighting Butch Cassidy’s gang, in reality by the time Cassidy had gathered his now-famous Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, Garrett was dead, Buffalo Bill was touring in his Wild West show, Earp was prospecting for gold in Alaska and Masterson was a sportswriter for a newspaper in New York City.” Clearly, one is not meant to view this fantastical western as anything close to a biopic about fabled sheriff Pat Garrett (best known for shooting Billy the Kid); instead, it should be seen as simply a creative reimagining of what might happen to someone like Garrett, eager to finally settle down with his longtime sweetheart, but pulled into assisting with the next notorious gang of criminals to arrive on the western landscape. Can a man seemingly born to defend really leave the scene when he’s most needed? This film, naturally, suggests otherwise (see the quote selected above).

Ultimately, Badman’s Country come across like a B-level variation on High Noon, with Garrett calling upon a reluctant band of citizens to help him fight the corruption encroaching on their town. In this case, however, he also happens to have the the handy assistance of two other big name allies — Bat Masterson (Gregory Walcott) and Wyatt Earp (Buster Crabbe) — as well as moral support from Buffalo Bill Cody (Malcolm Atterbury), who conveniently (ahem) happens to be in town. Naturally, it’s fairly predictable how everything will turn out, but director Sears generates a fair amount of tension throughout, and keeps things moving at a fast clip (the film is only 68 minutes long, and ends with a nicely handled shootout). My favorite line (spoken by Atterbury as Cody, during the final shootout): “I sure wish they were buffalo; can’t make a rug out of an outlaw!”

Regarding the cast and crew, I feel guilty admitting that I found Karin Booth (a fairly unimpressive actress) a tad too old in appearance to be playing the female love interest for Montgomery (in real life, they were both 42; goes to show what years of unrealistic cinematic influence have done to me). Meanwhile, Ukranian-American former heavyweight boxer Montgomery is appropriately stalwart and handsome in the lead role (check out Trivia on IMDb for some fascinating tidbits about his life), and Neville Brand — who played Butch Cassidy in a different western, The Three Outlaws, just two years earlier — reprises that role here (though weirdly enough, he doesn’t make much of an impression; he only manages to squeeze in one of his characteristic sneers). Perhaps most jarring is seeing Russell Johnson — forever branded in audiences’ minds as The Professor from “Gilligan’s Island” — in an uncharacteristically baddie role as Sundance (!). Sadly, director Sears died young (at the age of 44), but helmed no less than 52 features in a variety of genres for Columbia Pictures; his best known picture was Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • An effectively executed B-western

Must See?
No, though Western fans certainly won’t find it a waste of time.

Links:

Child Under a Leaf (1974)

Child Under a Leaf (1974)

“He might come and try to take our baby away; so I’d have to kill him.”

Synopsis:
A woman (Dyan Cannon) in a loveless marriage has a child with her lover (Donald Pilon), but lives in fear of her abusive husband (Joseph Campanella) finding out the baby isn’t his.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Dyan Cannon Films
  • Marital Problems

Review:
Peary reached a new all-time low in his inexplicable recommendation of this awful romantic melodrama (by writer/director/editor George Bloomfield) in his book. It’s actually difficult to know where to begin in critiquing it — it’s that uniformly terrible. The innocuous-sounding storyline — how could one get something so straightforward so wrong? — is botched from start to finish, as the mood (along with Francis Lai’s schizophrenic soundtrack) shifts from thriller (is Cannon’s husband stalking her?) to vaguely-European, wannabe-languorous-soft-filter romance (complete with a meadow as the lovers’ favored meeting place). We’re given no exposition at all — the film cuts immediately from some creepy looking shots-through-a-window in the first few minutes, to Cannon off jauntily trysting with her lover, leading us to question (among other things), When and how did she turn to him? What was her marriage with her “hideous” husband originally like, and when and why did it go sour? We never find out. Instead, the primary function of the screenplay seems to be simply to show us how deeply enamored these two insipid individuals are with both each other and with the love child they’ve created.

To that end, there’s a seemingly endless scene in which Cannon and Pilon make gaga eyes at their baby, who lies prone on (I kid you not) piles of white fur.

Later, Cannon exposes her milk-engorged breast to Pilon, as part of their foreplay — in fact, come to think of it, the entire film exists basically on the level of a porn flick, which may explain why Peary includes it in his book. Cannon does expose some bare flesh every now and then, after all, so maybe that was reason enough for him to be a fan.

[Is it obvious yet how irritated I am at being “forced” to sit through this one? I’m especially annoyed that no explanatory code or review was provided to give us a sense of WHY it’s included in GFTFF.]

At any rate, tension is clearly meant to build in the screenplay from both Pilon’s intermittent threats to kill Cannon’s husband (he buys a gun near the beginning) and Campanella’s sinister hints that he believes the baby in his household isn’t really his. But do these narrative threads lead anywhere logical? Not a chance. Instead, the inevitable tragedy that ultimately ensues makes little sense. Meanwhile, the egregious fetishization of an infant as an objet d’amour between the two illicit lovers may be my biggest overall complaint about the film (and that’s saying a lot); this baby clearly exists simply as a “clever” narrative device, physical “proof” of the narcissistic lovers’ illicit bond.

Note: The tagline listed on IMDb — “A Motion Picture for Lovers Who Have Won or Lost…And Lovers Who Have Yet to Win or Lose!” — begins to hint at the campy humor one MIGHT find if stretching hard enough.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:
Not a single thing.

Must See?
No; head the opposite direction if you happen to see this one coming your way.

Links: