The
Strange Door
Scoundrel is locked into marriage as vengeance on
the virtuous girl’s father.
What confounds her uncle is the
young man’s reformation in love, nevertheless and for that very reason
murder is in view.
Therefore the last ounce of
strength in one loyal and true is required.
Charles Laughton as the uncle,
Boris Karloff as the servant.
A taproot of The Wild Wild West
and Hammer in its style, a fact not noted by Tom Milne in Time Out Film
Guide, “very much a B movie.” Halliwell says “adequately
if rather tediously developed.”
Laughton develops a prime study of
long revenge on a “spineless dreamer”.
3
Ring Circus
From Camp Gower
to the big top.
Pevney intimates
the sacred precincts and then elides them for the sacred drama, it’s an
ancient tradition.
This is mainly
how Jerrico the Wonder Clown learns his art, but also how the circus proprietor
learns his.
Man of a Thousand Faces
“To live is
to defend a form.” (Webern)
Bosley
Crowther of the New
York Times, “a script of no great consequence”.
Generally
speaking, the advanced structure appears to have eluded the critics, even
French ones.
Leonard Maltin,
“surprisingly dedicated, well-acted”.
Halliwell’s Film Guide missed the boat like the side of a barn,
“moderately commendable... too much sudsy emoting about deaf mute parents
and an ungrateful wife,” citing Pauline Kael (The New Yorker), “maudlin and degrading”.
Torpedo Run
The point is a
successful variation of Asquith’s We Dive at Dawn, which is why
there’s a British officer on board.
And the variant
is actually an analysis. Here, morale is good or expressed in a joke, the
mobilization takes place in the executive officer.
The surreal
dislocation of plot ought to have clued Bosley Crowther in, even. However, he
set the standard so that even a British critic can write, “a
nicely-turned action thriller without an idea in its head,” recently.
Pevney’s
distinctive use of light and color is his trademark, beautifully expressed in
this film as studies, a trim art.
The Naked Truth
Johnny Staccato
A
blackmail case, against a rock ‘n roll crooner with a JD past.
It ends in
gunplay after a knife attack.
Nicely filmed by
Pevney on the same turf as Cassavetes’ Shadows.
Cash McCall is a remarkable
film because of its structure, which first of all is solidly built to such an
extent that it has proved useful as a foundation for films as dissimilar as The
Graduate and Other People’s Money. Beyond this, its expression
takes the form of a color study one finds rare in the cinema, whether fortuitous
or purposeful.
The direction
will likely appear as staid as can be imagined, at first. Everything is in fact
dominated by the art direction with carefully regulated tones, creamy or
earthen or azure, etc., kept in a tertiary zone as background, and not so much
modulated as artfully organized in a beautiful whole. This allows for effects
of characterization on the scenic scale, as in the case of McCall’s
office suite in auric tones, or the Austen home in Early American white and
pewter, etc. The understatement is as effective dramatically as the overall
effect is stylistically. In conjunction with costumes, makeup and hair, this is
a film of substantial allure in a very subdued manner, on this level. It
prepares the working tones of color in pronounced hues that carry the actual
discourse on a symbolic or even surreal level.
The flashback
sequence is a good example. It culminates in a close-up of Natalie Wood’s
lips in coral lipstick, a high note in the color scheme. After the dissolve
back to the present, where James Garner is recounting these events, the same
coral hue can be identified just beyond Wood’s knee (her jacket). In his
pristine kitchen tended by Maude Kennard (Nina Foch), the color reappears as
carnations among white lilies.
In the climactic
scene, McCall sorts out the two women in his life and his business dealings
with Austen Plastics (run by Dean Jagger as Wood’s father). The briefcase
in which he carries the deal is of a ruddy blond hue which carries the shots
it’s in, focusing attention on the resemblance in hue between Mrs.
Austen’s hair and Maude Kennard’s.
This is all very
complicated, difficult to describe, and delicate of execution. The last shot,
of Garner and Wood driving away to be married, shows the Austen house as an
exterior of coral brick walls with a ruddy blond roof, and lasts only a few
seconds.
Then there are
comic effects like the converted B-25 McCall flies himself around in.
It’s as yellow as a Rolls-Royce, with a passenger compartment in which
the push of a button elevates a console into a bar, on the same principle as
the electrically sliding doors of his suite.
The kitchen
presided over by Kennard takes on a whole new look when McCall puts on a white
apron to cook for Miss Austen. Against the subdued background, a bowl of oranges
behind him stand in relief, and the food on the table as well.
On another point,
the famous restaurant scene in The Servant (excised by the producers as
having no meaning and therefore serving no purpose) has an American cousin here
that apparently was understood by the studio. In a hotel lobby, Austen is told
(by Parley Baer) that McCall is a finagler. Baer goes off laughing, Austen goes
to a wall phone, where the man in the next booth is laughing himself silly over
something. Austen connects not with McCall but with Maude Kennard, dismissed,
drunken and dangerous. After hearing her remarks, Austen recrosses the lobby
and meets a laughing couple coming the other way. The woman is obviously drunk.
In that handsome
suite which later blossomed into Goldfinger’s abode, McCall keeps a
portrait of himself as Robin Hood in Lincoln green. “You were expecting
Abe Lincoln?”
Bonfire
The Alfred Hitchcock Hour
The first scene,
a “Merry Widow” murder, jumps far ahead to Family Plot. The
bizarrerie of the tale is accounted for by the disparate elements of the
script, which describes the rise of a Pennsylvania coal miner through murder to
a middling position (oddly reflected in Robert Duvall’s The Apostle)
as preacher and cabdriver, where he stands to inherit the lady’s house
but for the advent of a niece, whom he also murders.
Into a fire pit
on the lawn goes the niece locked in a trunk, along with all her aunt’s
unwanted things. But it rains that evening while the murderer preaches revival
at a tent meeting, the flames are put out and the body is seen. Loudspeakers
carry his wish to be heard, as the police arrive.
The young fellow
who mows the aunt’s lawn has forgotten once again to lock that garage
door. On his return to avoid the Bluebeard’s wrath, he finds the good-looking
niece in the pit (a nice feint on the theme of Bartok’s opera).
A Nice Touch
The Alfred Hitchcock Hour
This formidable
masterpiece begins with a man and wife arguing violently, and ends with a
couple in bed. Its sum is far more than its parts,
which together form a surreal exposition of the Socratic principle that
learning is memory, technically allied in this respect with a certain aspect of
Last Year at Marienbad.
The man is
unconscious on the floor, passed out. The wife calls her lover, a successful
Hollywood actor. She recounts, in a series of flashbacks, their first meeting
and so on.
He bullied his
way into an audition at the Manhattan agency where she worked (the sign on the
inner office reads “Mr. Roberts”), but didn’t get the part.
On the street, he swept her off her feet (a twisted ankle) and into a cab.
Their affair began at her home. She got him a Hollywood role (Jud in Wild
Rebel) and was fired for ignoring the agency’s choice. He sent her a
star-shaped satin pillow lettered “A HOLLYWOOD STAR WELCOMES YOU”,
and called her from the studio lot, happy as a lark. Her husband threatened to
destroy his career.
On the other end,
the lover tells his mistress to smother her unconscious husband with a pillow.
She does so, using the one he sent (“he can charm a woman into
anything”). Next she is to drive his body to the East River and dump it.
She agrees.
Immediately he
calls the LAPD and reports her, then goes back upstairs to his wife.
The aspiring
actor is imitated from Brando’s films, “Greenwich Village
drifter” is said to be written all over him. The success is unruffled and
has “a nice touch”. He wears a silken robe.
Pevney all but
makes it plain, in a two-shot of the husband lying in the foreground and the
wife seated behind him, whom the conversation concerns. An anguished woman, a
man very far away, these are the elements of the construction. And when it has
really been accomplished, no traces of the workshop are left behind. The couple
in the epilogue are honeymooning. The actor’s home is palatial.
At his audition,
George Segal plays the brilliant young actor unused to commanding a situation.
Asked to read an Englishman, he mumbles low and can’t be heard, then
bright as you please is felt to be angry. Middling, he mispronounces
“gout” to rhyme with “snoot”. Did they want it in
dialect, “England’s a big place,” he says.
Harry Townes has
the crucial role of the husband, a copywriter who calls his wife from Chicago
on the day of the audition. Anne Baxter is the New York professional woman,
then madly in love, then La Voix Humaine. Pevney stays on her two-shot
with Segal as they face each other just before beginning their affair, leaving
her hand out of frame on his line, “why are you twisting the ring on your
finger like it was burning a hole,” etc.
Starring The Defense
The Alfred Hitchcock
Hour
A film actor who
has long since left the business to practice law defends his son on a charge of
murder. Technically he’s a co-counsel or barrister pleading the case
while the top criminal lawyer in New York State acts as solicitor.
If this brings to
mind the famous definition of a trial lawyer given to Perry Mason by a law
professor (part parrot, part jackass, later eagle and lion), even more to the
point is the realism of the production, which represents Stroheim’s
dilemma with fiction in front of professionals.
S. John Launer
and the teleplay by Henry Slesar give a portrayal of the criminal lawyer in his
office that is the thing itself. John Zaremba as the judge in chambers
completes the picture.
Richard Basehart
in powdered hair and mustache magnificently incarnates the old actor whose
craft is polished by time. A film clip from the Thirties shows him fresh from
the shop, as it were, in We The Guilty.
He is told,
“you can’t substitute theatrics for
evidence,” and replies that when he played lawyers, “my job was to
make people feel. Facts don’t always add up to the truth.”
The law in its
Shylockian excess is compared with the gentle rain from heaven.
Memo From
Purgatory
The Alfred Hitchcock
Hour
The
true story of an aspiring writer who comes to New York and joins a youth gang
for an exposé. He undergoes an
initiation by running a gauntlet (he picks up a hoodlum and wields him to clear
a way), receiving a “deb” (he takes her to the movies), and rolling
a drunk in the park (he averts a murder). “Tiger”, the gang leader,
appoints him “war counselor”, replacing “Candle”, who
raids the author’s dingy flat and finds his manuscript, which contains
detailed notes and analysis for a novel.
The leader rejects
the idea of an execution, then is read passages identifying him as
“afraid of the opposite sex”. Execution is to take place by putting
the defendant unarmed in a rumble.
He escapes by
holding up a shopkeeper and dropping his gun. A court-appointed lawyer only
wants to know if he can post bail. The “deb” bails him out, into
the waiting execution squad. He resists, she is pushed onto a knife. Neighbors
call the police.
One of the Family
The Alfred Hitchcock
Hour
This is about the
little girl who never grew up, so naturally it’s couched in a little bit
sunnier vein than necessary or apt, with a dark villain of foreign extraction
who menaces the children, even kills them in their cribs.
The couple are a
perfect couple, Dexter Dailey and Joyce Dailey. The parallels are Mr. and Mrs.
George Callender, his sister Christine is the real killer, it sounds like
“pristine”. The oddness of the script is just to point out this
side of the game, dexterous and joyful people of the day, people who make hay while
the sun shines, and one who keeps her calendar clear.
Newspaper poetry,
“GERMAN NURSE SOUGHT / IN SLAYING OF S.F. TOT”. It ends like
“To Catch a Butterfly”, averting the disaster with a well-timed
show of support, a nanny’s hug.
Auden,
Oxbridge philosophers,
to be cursory, |
The Night of the Grizzly
The type of
allegory (if it is one) presented may be ascertained at the climax in a
distinct reminiscence of Lang’s Man
Hunt, here there is a land dispute in Hope, Wyoming that in springtime
elicits an ally to one party, a killing bear known locally as Satan.
The sense of
humor displayed throughout is also tied to pioneer ruggedness, the prize bull
once dead gets put up in Mason jars, half of him, the rest put on the market to
buy another.
This unusual
structure with a sort of wild card has still more aspects handled very finely,
source material might be understood as Renoir’s The Southerner, to name one instance.
Halliwell’s Film Guide, “rather sluggishly made.”
A Cube of Sugar
Mission: Impossible
The impossible
mission is to extricate an agent from behind the Iron Curtain, where he is
jailed for manslaughter while under the influence of hallucinatory drugs, as
they are called by the security chief who interrogates him with large amounts
of them and a little bit of narcotics.
The agent has a
micro-circuit hidden in a sugar cube laced with drugs. Cinnamon’s
magnetic ring snatches the gizmo from a pile of crushed cubes, Rollin laces the
agent’s injection with a Juliet-drug, the body is sent to the crematory,
whence Barney and Willy extract it through a manhole, leaving the security
chief in a straitjacket.
The City on the Edge of
Forever
Star Trek
The city is New
York in 1930, where Sister Edith Keeler runs the 21st Street
Mission, and looks forward to the harnessing of atomic power, space flight, an
end to famine and sickness. “Not a bad-looking broad,” says one of
her charges, “now, if she really wanted to help a feller out...”
She is killed while crossing the street a few days later, struck by a car. But
there are “currents, eddies, backwashes of time,” and one of these
permits her to live, escaping the accident. She founds a peace movement that
delays American opposition to Hitler, who develops the A-bomb and mounts it on
V-2 rockets to “capture the world”.
Dr. McCoy is the
instrument. “Ripples of time” rock the Enterprise, Sulu is
injured, McCoy treats him but accidentally injects himself with an overdose of the
drug. This sends him, manic and delusional, down to the transporter room and
thence to the planetary source of the turbulence, a curvate glowing arch of
unknown qualities that introduces itself in a masculine voice as The Guardian
of Forever, “I am my own beginning and my own ending.”
Surrounded by
“killers” (Kirk, Spock, Scotty, Uhura and two crewmen have
followed) on the ruddy planet, McCoy leaps into this “time portal”
as it displays ages of Earth history past, Egypt, Rome, the Middle Ages, the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Suddenly the Enterprise ceases to
exist, “all that you knew is gone.” Kirk and Spock go after him, to
undo what he has done to alter time.
“Murderers!
Assassins! You! What planet is this?” The admiring Mission charge is speechless,
Dr. McCoy gauges his bald cranial capacity, estimates him to have “faked
all this modern museum perfection,” wonders what the hospitals are like,
weeps remembering, there they “sew people like garments,” and
collapses.
Kirk and Spock do
odd jobs at the Mission. Spock assembles a mnemonic memory circuit to display
his tricorder readings of the period from the time portal, and discovers the
forking path of time. Kirk falls in love with Edith Keeler. “Save
her,” says Spock, “do as your heart tells you to do, and millions
will die who did not die before.”
McCoy recovers at
the Mission, the three men meet, she crosses the street to them. Spock warns
Kirk, who restrains Dr. McCoy.
Out of the portal
a moment after entering it, Scotty observes, they hear from the Enterprise.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” says Capt. Kirk.
The Time
Tunnel, The Terminator,
“The Garden of Forking Paths”, Major Barbara, Viridiana,
in an eminently droll and monstrously eloquent teleplay.