Dr. Broadway
So-called by a columnist, Times Square M.D. he (“anybody I
kill is purely accidental”), on a ten-dollar bet he rescues a jumper
who’s not what she seems, and subsequently thwarts a vengeful convict out
for his hide (not what he seems),
thus combining and expressing the very themes of Antonioni’s I Vinti, which
therefore is the best analysis bar none (cf.
Kurosawa’s Drunken Angel).
“Come on over to my place and have a snort.”
“I could stand a
snort, but it’ll be with someone worth snorting with,” says the
detective sergeant, “I’ll snort by myself, then
I’ll be in good company!” The jumper is “strictly from
hunger” and becomes the doctor’s receptionist, “I can see
where my office is going to break out in a rash of little feminine
touches.”
“Don’t you like little feminine touches?” With
the racketeer, it’s a case of Great
Expectations met by considerable opposition.
A brilliant, swift, keen Broadway-style debut at the start of
the war or the resumption of hostilities (“everybody thought that
Bluebeard was a swell guy, too, till they starting digging in his
cellar”), story Borden Chase, screenplay Art Arthur (Charlie Chan on Broadway, dir. Eugene Forde),
décor Hans Dreier, cinematography Theodor Sparkuhl. The consequences are very far-reaching,
cf. Furie’s The Circle (The Fraternity), say, on a basis of Lumet’s Child’s Play.
Leonard Maltin, “nicely done on a low budget”. TV Guide, “a poor first film”. Bruce Eder (All Movie Guide), “unassuming little B-picture.” Halliwell’s Film Guide, “adequate filler”.
Strangers in the
Night
Idyllic South Seas islands where the war
rages, a particularly elegant and fastidious explanation is offered, likewise a
comparison made.
TV Guide, “a fine film”.
Sandra
Brennan (All Movie Guide), “a
bizarre love affair”.
Hitchcock’s
Suspicion is openly cited (cp. The House on Telegraph Hill, dir. Robert
Wise, for the general structure).
The
Great Flamarion
The Hitchcockian opening follows patrons into a Mexico City
music hall and continues slowly to the stage, where the clown Tony performs his
act (Young and Innocent), this overture is of the greatest importance
and is plainly a tour de force.
The main gag is
also from Hitchcock, the jealous husband sketch in Elstree Calling that
points up the theme in Renoir and Lang. The peculiarity of Mann’s
construction follows Hitchcock in that the title character is an interloper, a
great artist (cf. Scarlet Street).
The effect sought
and achieved by Mann was not grasped by the New York Times reviewer
(“an exercise in tedium”), nor by Halliwell (“heavy-handed
melodrama”).
Strange
Impersonation
It puts you out of your pain for an hour, the new formula
she’s working on at the Wilmott Institute
(chemical research), she tries it on herself and dreams this film, a perfect
representation of dream as drama, and when she wakes up her problem is resolved
by the workings of her mind in sleep, she’s ready to marry her colleague
at the Institute and go to France.
The dream is closely related in its realism to Sekely’s Hollow Triumph (The Scar), and
advances a strong case for the positions required severally, one after another,
for her mind’s understanding.
The commonplace
world and the inner life, described and reconciled.
The
Bamboo Blonde
She adorns a B-29 over Tokyo and sings in a New York nightclub
of sorts.
Mann’s wit
and discernment carry the romance of the millionaire farm-boy pilot and the chanteuse
who swings it past the flak of his society fiancée and the animosity of the
bomber crew toward a new man in the driver’s seat to a successful
conclusion.
Just another
masterpiece for Mann quietly unobserved by critics.
Railroaded!
The astonishing parallel is Sirk’s exactly contemporaneous
Lured, the thrust of Mann’s bizarrerie
is to frame a hobbyist for a crime done by an “artist”, the
overture is simple, beauty parlor where the girls get gussied up and bet on
horses, gunmen slip through the back door, cop sticks
his nose in.
The kid was in his garage workshop, a stout defender of his
sister, when the beauty parlor operator and the manager of Club Bombay decided
to ace the big cheese, a gentlemanly sort who quotes Wilde or Coward on women.
T-Men
From the old River Gang to the Vantucci
mob, Detroit. Then to Los Angeles for the center of the counterfeiting
operation.
“The Shanghai Paper Case” hinges on shipments of
Chinese paper for the bills.
Great location work, Mann’s technique is of the very best.
Except in the opening scene, lighting is secondary to camera placement, scenes
and locales are introduced partially. Planes and shapes, often on the diagonal,
define the image.
Raw Deal
The film noir supreme in a lightless universe that slowly
reveals a Copernican system.
Outside this realm is the law, just inside is the lawyer’s
girl, who comes into the orbit of convict Joe, gravitationally allied to
psychopathic crime boss Rick by virtue of doing a job and taking the rap, at
the center is Joe’s girl, her thoughts provide the first-person
narrative.
A dreamlike narrative, more and more so, as commentators have
written.
Bosley Crowther, the New York Times
reviewer who never misses a banana peel if he can help it, gave his opinion as
“pretty low-grade”.
Reign of Terror
Something like the best of British chiaroscuro is seized by the
scruff of the neck and made into suitably hysterical vistas at the high point
of composition. The lighting is a two-edged sword that exposes the mortal fear
in the Terror’s victims as well as the sick inanity of its fat, powdered
leaders.
In Halliwell’s Film Guide you will read that this
wonderful film is a “moderate period melodrama with an attractive though
artificial look.”
Border Incident
The filthy business of human trafficking is immediately
addressed by Mann in the Canyon of Death, where a rock outcropping casts a
shadow of Lincoln’s profile.
A brutal, grisly film that is properly understood in its
technique as close to Reign of Terror by the chiaroscuro.
A vast masterpiece, a lesson in the cinema, perfectly done,
followed by Jerrold Freedman’s Borderline and Tony
Richardson’s The Border.
No critic saw it, for Bosley Crowther
of the New York Times it was nothing more than a “routine
adventure”, Variety said it “never breaks out of its formula
framework”, Tom Milne (Time Out Film Guide) and Dave Kehr (Chicago Reader) share the same opinion, with
an increasing awareness of something extraordinary.
Side Street
They didn’t start making this kind of film until much
later, around Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut, so it’s no wonder
no-one noticed.
“Respectable but somewhat tedious” (Bosley Crowther, New York Times).
“Well-made but rather boring” (Halliwell’s
Film Guide).
The transmutation of Hitchcock by a catalyst of Welles produces
an explosive mixture that is entirely Anthony Mann, one of the greatest films
of the American cinema and one of the most brilliant anywhere.
A central focus on New York gets past the Gotham at every point
of its range and settles for nothing less than the city, the surrealist mystery
of New York.
Winchester ‘73
Writers on film are always looking for the watershed Western,
and this is as good as any, but they’ll keep going back until they find
William S. Hart as psychologically savvy as anything, and the Western a genre
of genius (Crowther said Winchester ’73
is not a “mature” film).
The best and purest analysis is by Sergio Leone (especially The
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly), a learned director.
Mann brings all his knowledge to bear on it, and that’s
all it needs to get behind the perfidy and weakness and menace to the Cain and
Abel shootout in the high rocks outside Tascosa.
The Furies
A New Mexico cattle ranch lends its name to the title, it was
assembled by an admirer of Napoleon (the emperor’s chef works for him)
over some opposition, he issues his own currency
bearing the picture of a girl riding a bull.
This was necessarily obscure at the time, hardly less so even
now to the mass of film critics.
Devil’s Doorway
A Medal of Honor at Gettysburg means nothing out West, where the
Shoshone sergeant major finds his land taken from under him for homesteaders
squired by a lawyer who doesn’t like the way Indians smell.
It becomes a fight, and there’s an end. Mann anticipates
the reversals of a man called Horse when his redskins defend their cattle ranch
from a horde of marauding sheepmen.
When the camera leaves Medicine Bow for Devil’s Doorway
and Valley Meadow, Mann’s landscapes are instantly recognizable.
The Tall Target
A. Lincoln as president-elect, the Baltimore Plot.
Mann exhibits the profoundest awareness of Hitchcock by
duplicating the master’s formal device in Blackmail at just the
middle of the film, after four reels of intensive antebellum hysteria the reins
slacken and he slowly gathers momentum on the basis of Col. Jeffers’
second pistol shot establishing a de facto murder investigation where
before had been only suspicion.
It was a great day for film criticism when Bosley Crowther characterized this great work of the cinema as a
“moth-eaten melodrama” (New York Times).
The investigating officer’s name is John Kennedy.
Bend of the River
An unbroken stream of wagons passing by the camera fills the
credit sequence. After a brief conversation en route, Mann concludes
this overture with the fullest possible statement of his theme in a single
shot, snowy mountain above forest above wagon train above rocks extending into
the foreground.
The density of this pictorial view is seen in the town as the wagons
fill main street and half the screen, the other half being the shops.
This is an ideal extension of Hathaway’s ideal perfection
(and Losey’s later). Everything is in relation to everything else, as in
music or sculpture or painting. There are other ways to make a picture (Ford
realized this).
Mann’s night exteriors are defined by untrammeled
extensions of lighting (moonlight, lamplight or campfire) at a lower level of
illumination than full daylight. He sets up his camera tripod on the riverbed
for the last fight, and the surface is consumed by dazzling sunlight.
The Naked Spur
Certain aspects of The Naked Spur figure in the
analytical remake by Arthur Miller and John Huston, The Misfits. The
material again provides a valuable source for James Dickey and John Boorman in Deliverance.
Mann’s film is consciously built on Western models and the innovations of
Niven Busch.
Five characters, no sets. A nature study of the Rocky Mountains
in spring is the jewel setting. Three characters, or perhaps two, are real, the
others mere projections of a psychological feature study closely related to the
joke of Hitchcock’s Vertigo, the one about the man who was afraid
of taking the plunge. The screenplay delivers the real and as it were imaginary
consequences of a marriage that never took place, until the lesson is learned
and a reflex is obtained exactly like the knife-throwing end of Freund’s Mad
Love.
Mann has top-drawer actors for this who are capable of taking
steps into another realm of thought. James Stewart reveals a precision of
technique emulated by James Dean.
Finally, Mann has in reserve a mastery of cinematic art exactly
comparable to Hitchcock and Hawks but only brought into play at certain
junctures, effortlessly. Mann now sets to work filming, the intricacies of the
script with its many pregnant points are translated by the levels of apparatus
he has set himself into complex rhythms of camerawork and editing, the actors
themselves are in constant counterpoint onscreen, had anyone paid attention
Leone might not have come as a surprise.
Kaper’s score adds the
right note, a symphonic style is indicated overall in
a sense.
Thunder Bay
Oil on the bottom of the ocean, deposited millions of years ago,
drilled for and made use of in the present, the hero’s unity of time.
The shrimp fishers repine, Port Felicity is like Huston’s
Stockton in Fat City, the point is their
hostility toward the oilman till golden shrimp come to light.
So with the rest, caricatures of relations between the town and the
interlopers, Anderson’s The Whales of August has the same theme in
suspension.
A.W. of the New York Times was mightily unimpressed.
“Regulation outdoor actioner,”
said Variety, with “an interesting switch”
(“well-produced outdoor actioner,” says
Halliwell).
The Glenn Miller Story
Artist’s life, swing version. His long difficulties,
material and stylistic. At last, a suitable expression, success,
ordnance-tested.
Mann has very powerful resources, much
of his film is a kind of allusion owing to terseness and swiftness.
Mainly this is seen in exteriors, the bride’s home, the
university, the groom’s home, muddy or snowy
roads on tour, the Miller home, an Army drill parade. Accurate, partial views,
abodes that are lived in, circumstances suffered or witnessed, never an outside
view. The pictures that tell the tale.
Youth gets over many of the travails,
hardship is mainly blinked at, none the less real as indicated.
The several mysteries are left as such, fully expressed and not
spelled out, the technique proceeds from the music to its description in the
images, a very subtle idea of a great Forties designer at one point, though the
story begins much earlier, at a pawn shop under Angels Flight below Bunker Hill
in Los Angeles ca. 1925.
Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life figures large
in the screenplay.
The Far Country
North of Skagway, Dawson.
Skagway has gone real bad under an outlaw named judge and jury
by his wiliness and his gang, Dawson ain’t a town yet but hopes to be.
The gold is there in Dawson, the judge moves in on it.
Walter Brennan in another role is there from Wyler’s The
Westerner.
Mann divides the screen early on, as in Bend of the River,
between cattle bound for Dawson and the shops on Main Street they pass along,
and repeats the vertical construction at the beginning of that film as
mountains, miners, rocks in foreground.
The thieves and killers in ambush outside Dawson are from Border
Incident.
The rest has been adequately analyzed by Leone, Altman and
Eastwood.
The reviews are of no importance.
The Vienna joke is on what a man can stomach.
Strategic Air Command
Ballplayer in the Air Force Reserve is pulled back in to fight
the Cold War on active service.
A continuation of the high-altitude missions in Twelve O’Clock High, from the same author.
The B-36 with an A-bomb is a thousand-plane raid, Wings Over the
World.
The entire B-29 force against Japan is subsumed in one B-47.
They fly far on long missions for deterrence, vis-à-vis
“the other guy”.
Juran takes a somewhat more comical view
in the northern latitudes of The Deadly Mantis, a very expensive
proposition. Mann picks up the theme from Henry King, the toll on men, even their wives are used up in the vast command.
Crowther (New York
Times) had a notable grasp of the peculiar beauties and skills displayed,
noted the ballyhoo and praised VistaVision over
CinemaScope, but couldn’t see much dramatic point. Variety
concurred in this as a general thing, so did Halliwell’s Film Guide,
etc.
The Man from Laramie
The principle here is of a spread that’s just too big and
growing or dying, as the proprietors believe. The owner (Donald Crisp) is going
blind, and bolsters his psychopathic son (Alex Nicol)
with a hireling (Arthur Kennedy) he can’t see is just as bad, only more
cunning.
The two young men have a private deal to sell repeating rifles
to the Apaches, enough to wipe out the territory.
The title character (James Stewart) runs afoul of the spread
even before it comes out that he’s after the gunrunners. Every bit of
nastiness and deviltry comes down the trail at our man, who prevails and sees
the rancher hitched up with an old holdout (Aline MacMahon) from his buying spree, the very object of the
deal with the Apaches.
The Last Frontier
A very sharp analysis of Fort Apache with certain
stylistic touches to avow that Ford is under consideration, none of which
mattered a hoot to Bosley Crowther (New York Times),
who couldn’t tell the players without a program.
The fine meaning of the title at one point has a fur trapper out
West literally between Red Cloud on the warpath and Fort Shallan.
The tragic forces at work, seen at close hand, break like a wave
that leaves the dead strewn across the field of vantage, much great talk and
wild comes to nothing for a realistic harmony that is the basis of
civilization, as noted elsewhere.
It’s the time of the Civil War,
men are scarce on the Western frontier, beyond Fort Laramie.
Men in War
The condition of the film is incommunicable experience represented
from the inside out as mental states made visible. Time’s eloquent
reviewer was most observant and came closest to understanding the batshit complement of soldiers thinned down to two who
quietly seize the initiative in terms of sheer despair and lunatic bravura,
there is no corresponding reality in this situation, no measured response or
dramatic buildup, what the men are they are, time passing alters some, the
prismatic view of a shattered platoon is as good as any one man getting shot at
and shelled all day long, he musters enough force to silence the enemy and,
exhausted, falls asleep.
Next morning, there are medals to hand out. No film is quite
like this one, but reviewers often say not so, citing a resemblance not all
there.
The Tin Star
Mann’s masterful dissection of a real nice town in the
West, what it comes down to, a point of bravery.
He has Henry Fonda from Ford’s My Darling Clementine
to set the thing, and Anthony Perkins in charge to figure the quandary.
A tough guy in the livery barn and half-breeds outside of town,
also the problem of Injuns per se, in the abstract, as it were.
What a tin star is worth (cf. Winner’s Lawman)
in the face of circumstances.
A Western classic as they come, only in widescreen to get a
fulsome expansive picture of it.
Various brands of boyishness, one of them is a lynch mob, the
rest stand to profit by the experience with an old hand on the job.
Crowther was bemused (New
York Times), Variety was appreciative, Time Out Film Guide
found it “a little too overtly didactic”.
“Customary pleasures,” says Halliwell’s
Film Guide.
God’s Little Acre
It’s reserved for the Holiness Church, the rest of the
farm goes for digging gold that’s never there rather than planting
cotton. The cotton mill shuts down, but the cotton broker lives high on his
late wife’s money.
Perfectly done by Mann, registering every integer of the
complicated functions in this equation, down to the wind in the trees.
Man of the West
The joke form of the structure is ably analyzed by Lumet in Running
on Empty, for this is simply what it takes to establish a schoolmarm at
Good Hope or Sawmill.
All the implications are worked out very rigorously, it is a
matter of civilization among savages who are part of one’s past,
throwbacks that never growed up, led by a sick
bastard growed old.
Supermann, Godard calls
the director.
Variety and the New York Times (Howard Thompson) published
vaguely favorable reviews, subsequent praise has been even higher, Halliwell’s
Film Guide dourly calls it “talkative, set-bound, cliché-ridden...
with minor compensations.”
Cimarron
Mann’s charming accomplishment is an epic on the slender
theme of the pioneer, which must be elicited from the great wash of history.
The Land Rush is a treat for him, he’s beaten
out for his long-hoped farm by a whore of his acquaintance, and therefore
accepts the editorship of the Oklahoma Wigwam, lately transplanted from
Texas.
His probity and round fellow-feeling do much to alleviate the
miseries of the frontier, as far as that goes, yet he is a fine line in the
wilderness, almost evanescent. Bigots, bullies and robber barons fall to his
sword and pen, variously, he is offered the
governorship but finds an oil baron behind the gift. The refusal provokes a
final rift with his wife, he travels the Klondike and
sends back a polar bear rug. Last seen in Europe, he dies in Flanders fields
against the Kaiser as a BEF volunteer.
The wife is a tenderfoot Easterner who dislikes ruckus and roiling, she raises the Wigwam into a skyscraper
business and is proposed for a statue to the pioneer spirit. The late hero is
instead unveiled.
Mann charms the skies with two wagons setting out from
civilization, vast skies in open country, Mr. & Mrs. Cravat. The rise ex
nihilo of cities in the wilderness proceeds from the terrifically-paced
Land Rush and constitutes a major theme set forth in the credit sequence,
moreover. By contrast, amid so many dramatic events, the hero is practically
nonexistent, though Glenn Ford gives a great account of him as the
nineteenth-century man of the daguerreotype in certain close-ups (black tie,
collar, cast of face), more broadly a Westerner at home in a maelstrom of
disregard, tomfoolery and mayhem.
El Cid
The general structure is an opposition of authoritarian insensibility
in a Moorish fanatic or the court of Ferdinand, and the Christian knight.
Diaz serves God, the King, and Spain. This threefold allegiance
provides the course of the film, his mercy, his insistence on royal justice,
his inflexible might.
Every aspect of the film is understood in these lights, which
makes it a wonder that no critic did.
The degrees and stations and statures of medieval punctilio are
measured out importantly, and the ravings of a Goebbels or Goering.
The Cid improves his time and, persevering even unto death,
bears witness to his truth in a way that recalls, or rather anticipates, Joan
of Arc.
The Fall of the Roman
Empire
In “the beginning of the fall”, the army of Marcus
Aurelius is paid by private wealth for the throne.
It takes a third of the film and slightly more to establish the
formal structure on northern forest and Rome (and eastern provinces). This is
the decisive factor in the critics’ long incomprehension.
Gibbon, but also William L. Shirer (The Collapse of the Third
Republic).
The Danube region outside the late Roman fortress in spring and
snow sets the tone of natural precision before the great central argument of
Rome exactly represented as nowhere else, the thing itself, and then the rock
hills and deserts of Armenia.
The acting is derived from this scenography,
if it must be so described, and the keynote of it is Stephen Boyd’s
soldierly face, a portrait like Sophia Loren’s lady with doves (cf.
Franju’s Les Yeux sans visage), Eric
Porter’s senator, Alec Guinness’s Aurelius (and John Ireland also
as the chieftain Ballomar), Mel Ferrer right out of
an antique figure as blind Cleander, and the superb
shading of James Mason’s Timonides with its
classic grimace at the crisis.
Solid Anthony Mann all the way, proceeding from Reign of
Terror (and The Great Flamarion) through
every bit of his œuvre.
The Heroes of Telemark
The dramatic license of the telling is not widely appreciated
among literary habitués of the cinema in its full significance, if their notes
on this aspect of the film are to be credited. A terse and somewhat complicated
expression is in force amid the snowy landscapes (The Fall of the Roman
Empire) and, briefly, neoclassical university buildings, it pertains to Dr.
Pedersen “the playboy scientist” divorced from Anna and
philandering with his students, also to Sigrid and her husband Arne in the
resistance.
It is not enough to get to home base, the heavy-water distillery, the Germans only set it up again. No, the baby
that wins the war must be born and nurtured in a lengthy metaphor of commando
operations in Norway. The V salute has its other side as well.
A Dandy in Aspic
A long-term mole in British Intelligence has the cover of a
well-dressed “snob” and “sexless”.
Actually, he’s a KGB assassin with a number of hits to his
credit, and he’s conducting an affair with his private secretary.
He longs for home (“don’t vee
all,” says a colleague in London), mirrors don’t reflect his true
image, he says, paraphrasing Cocteau.
He has an admirer, she’s a young
photographer whose mother he has slighted.
He tries very hard to return home, East Berlin is on orders from
Moscow not to admit him. London sends him to kill the assassin, who is himself.
Renata Adler went and saw the picture for
the New York Times and, as always, saw little or nothing. Variety
found it very dull, Halliwell certainly agreed.
Code phrase and answer, from Heine.
The
world is dumb, the world is blind, It
daily grows more tasteless! |