eigaeye Reviews

The Idiot (1951)

For what it is and for Setsuko Hara

[6/10 · 8 October 2014]

Comparisons between the original book and this film version are rather pointless, not least because the surviving version of the film is half the length of Kurosawa's original. One assumes that the use of bridging text and voice overlay early in the (released) film are there to substitute for action now edited out, anyway the story-lines of the book and the film deviate considerably.

At more than two hours, the film still seems long to me, so I sympathize with the studio. But the main problem for me is the uneven casting. Masayuki Mori, as "the idiot", and Toshiro Mifune, as his rival in love for the courtesan, are unconvincing in their roles. Their scenes together are the weakest and tend to drag.

On the other hand, Setsuko Hara as Taeko (the character corresponding to Dostoevsky's "Princess") and Yoshiko Kuga, as Ayako, her rival for the attentions of the "the idiot", are both exceptionally good. Their one scene together--a great clash of wills towards the end of the film--is riveting.

The other star of this film is Hokkaido in mid-winter. Kurosawa must have commanded great loyalty (or just commanded) from his cast and crew, as there are many scenes shot outdoors in near blizzard conditions.

I rate this 6.5. I do not feel that Kurosawa really has command of his material, even if only half of it made it to commercial release.

Edvard Munch (1974 TV Movie)

A Piece of Munch

[8/10 · 6 July 2013]

At 221 minutes, this film pushes to the outer limits of its material and cinematic technique. Certainly the director's style is fresh and arresting, and the performances (if that's the right word for a 'fly-on-the-wall' directorial style), including the remarkable look-alike actor who plays Munch, are uniformly excellent. The art direction is also particularly impressive, evoking both late 19th century middle class and bohemian Europe with real pungency. The film concentrates on some of the main formative influences on Munch's art: his family relations, circle of friends and lovers. Munch's poor health as a child (you would never guess from this film that he actually lived to the age of 80) is given much prominence. The film, however, could not be described as a biography of the artist. It has nothing to say about his commercial success (which was not insignificant by 1897), what paintings he sold, how he supported himself, or anything about the second half of his life. For me, the last 30 minutes of the film seemed repetitive and, with the accumulation of repeated images and scenes, suffered from the law of diminishing returns. Perhaps the film's greatest strength is its exposition of the circumstances under which several key works in Munch's oeuvre were created. The depictions of the act of painting – often the weakest element in such biopics – are brilliantly handled by Watkins. Worth seeing. But worth owning?

Foyle's War (2002–2015)

Shallow

[4/10 · 19 January 2013]

It is not surprising to find that the creator of this series also had a hand in writing quite a few episodes of "Midsomer Murders", the UK detective series that took implausibility and caricature-melodrama to new depths. The writing and story construction here are rarely better than mediocre – and often worse. The producers assemble a well-known cast of players, and everyone seems to be trying hard, but there are too many howlers in the dialogue, art design and direction to allow the audience to settle into anything like a willing suspension of disbelief. The idea that this offers anything like a realistic portrayal of life in an English coastal town during the Second World War is best left to one side if you are considering tasting this piece of confection.

The Chalk Garden (1964)

Superb

[10/10 · 9 January 2013]

Beg, borrow or steal, but get your hands on this outstanding film. The entire cast give what are arguably their best screen performances, which is saying something since we are talking about Edith Evans, Deborah Kerr, Hayley Mills and John Mills. The script is intelligent, witty and penetrating; the directorial hand is sure and unobtrusive; the camera-work and editing of the highest order: really this (where has it been hiding?) film is one-in-a-hundred good. I am amazed to find it available on on a "vault" release, with no extras or commentary. It deserves recognition and an expanded release. That said, the picture and sound are both excellent.

Marie (1985)

Suspenseful, polished production

[8/10 · 18 December 2012]

There are more than a few movies about women battling and (hopefully) beating the system, so the field was already getting pretty crowded by 1985, when this film hit the cinemas. But it stands up there with the best of them; the greater surprise is that "Marie" is so less well known than, for instance, "Erin Brockovich" or "Norma Ray". The people involved in making this production are all out of the top drawer: Sissy Spacek in the lead role, supported by Jeff Daniels, Keith Szarabajka, Fred Thompson and Morgan Freeman (in a comparatively small part); director Roger Donaldson; cameraman Sam Mendes; and screenwriter John Briley. The script is tightly written, with a good pattern of sequences that moves the action through suspense (or, more precisely, a sense of menace), anxious domestic incidents, and lighter casual moments: the story looks and feels authentic. Spacek is terrific in the lead role of a "not perfect" person who just won't let herself be pushed aside when her integrity gets in the way of her political masters. But no element of the production is weak: the final court drama is beautifully played (how much better are these sequences when they rely on real transcripts), and so is the dynamic within the family of the woman on a mission. Highly recommended.

Doctor Finlay (1993–1996)

A cut above

[9/10 · 11 December 2012]

This is a series about a medical practice in a Scottish town immediately after the Second World War. It is based on A.J. Cronin's characters, Dr John Finlay and Dr Alexander Cameron, and is the second television series based on the Cronin characters: the first, a good one, was made by the BBC in the 1960s. All the ingredients are there for something fairly predictable: quirky minor characters fluttering around the bright lights of the good doctors respectfully played by actors not keen to grate against an audience's well set expectations. Fortunately, this is not what the writers, producers, and performers of this excellent series are content with doing. In a number of ways this is an unusual series. First, it almost completely eschews melodrama, opting instead for a far less 'finished' or convenient approach to story-telling. Secondly, the main characters are, all of them, a sometimes exasperating, but therefore more believable, mixture of foolishness and insight, decency and bloody-mindedness. The stories are written by various writers, and there is only the slightest attempt to knit the episodes together – it is not a serial – which makes for the third unusual quality. But the performances and character development achieved within this format are first class. The art direction is exceptionally good, and the attention paid to details of verisimilitude and continuity of action would put many a better known television series to shame. There are perhaps two or three episodes that do not come off or drift through less substantial subject matter, but the other 24 or so reach a high standard indeed. Enjoyable, engaging, substantial drama.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

What men will do.

[10/10 · 11 September 2012]

There are other films about the cut-throat world of the publicity hounds, but, to my mind, Alexander Mackendrick's "Sweet Smell of Success" has no peer. Stories about cynicism often succumb to their subject-matter and become merely cynical themselves. This one never does, no matter how repulsive the subject: the sordid muck of newspaper tittle-tattle, the publicity agents that peddle the muck and the columnists who climb the heap. There are a fistful of great performances here: Burt Lancaster, the maniacal columnist, Susan Harrison as his vulnerable sister, and, especially, Tony Curtis, the publicity agent of whom Lancaster's character remarks: "I wouldn't want to take a bite out of you; you're a cookie filled with arsenic". But still and all – and this is the quality that marks out Curtis's performance as his greatest on film – a cookie, a guy who attracts as well as repels, a guy who poisons us like a bad habit. Filmed by the great James Wong Howe, scored by Elmer Bernstein, with a cracking good script by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman, and featuring some great location sequences in mid-50s New York, this is a brilliant study in self-deception and mass manipulation.

Outcast of the Islands (1951)

Dissipated action

[6/10 · 30 August 2012]

This film falls well below Carol Reed's best work. Despite a strong cast and the benefits of location shooting, the action is dissipated by poor editing (the frenzied intercutting of shots). The idea of the worthless white man left to wash up on an alien shore (condemned to the too-fleshy arms of his 'half-caste' woman) seems terribly hackneyed from today's viewpoint. Reed's artistry, unfortunately, is not sufficient to overcome these weaknesses. The one memorable thing is the presence of the actress, Kerima, whose character does not utter even one line of dialogue. That the film's assistant director, Guy Hamilton, should have married her soon after will came as no surprise to anyone. As much as I admire Trevor Howard, Wendy Hiller and Ralph Richardson as performers, this is not a worthy vehicle for their talents.

What is it about Conrad that even film-makers as good as Carol Reed struggle to put his stories to film? For what it's worth, I think Hitchcock's 'Sabotage' is a better film, albeit a loose adaptation of Conrad's 'The Secret Agent', than this more faithful adaptation of 'The Outcast of the Islands'.

Home Before Dark (1958)

Not what it seems

[8/10 · 28 August 2012]

Producer-director Mervyn LeRoy knows how to trail a false scent or two across this story; we receive hints of other films (Gaslight, for example, or almost any Hitchcock) and begin to wonder. Keeping us doubting, and keeping us outside the vulnerable and troubled main character, played superbly by Jean Simmons, we are left in a strange, low-key state of suspense right to the end. Is she mad, is she being manipulated for some nefarious end? Are her family conspirators or just unfeeling? If the latter, who is to blame? We want to rescue this character, we have in the story two likable men who seem to be candidates for white knights. Again, LeRoy manipulates our expectations of a melodramatic plot twist, a catharsis of the sort we have seen in those other films, in which all will be revealed. But, without spoiling the story, this is a different sort of film. Between the first scene and the second to last scene, we are held in a kind of suspended animation, together with the Simmons character. It is only very late in the film, however, that LeRoy lets the scales drop from our eyes.

Some may find the other family members too unsympathetic, early on especially. If there is a weakness in the formula, this is it. For me, the powerful sequence on Christmas Eve in Boston – the shopping jaunt, the party and the confrontation back at the hotel - settles such doubts as exist.

The ledger is more than balanced, in any case, by a good script, fine black and white photography, a convincing portrayal of a hidebound and catty faculty town (politics has nothing on academe), sensitive direction by LeRoy and, especially, Jean Simmons at her considerable best. This film deserves more admirers. It is that quietly spoken guest at the party who, if you spend some time listening, has more to say than the usual cinema windbags.

Imitation of Life (1959)

Not a patch

[4/10 · 27 August 2012]

The 1959 version of Imitation of Life retains a purely historical interest; in script, acting and direction, it is considerably weaker than the 1934 original. And the historical interest is this: if these films are anything to go by, in the 25 years between them race relations and the filming-making craft in America both went into reverse. Concentrating on the treatment of race for a moment, while the rabbit's foot and the 'will to death' clichés about African Americans have gone out of the story by 1959, opportunities and recognition for their race are seemingly more elusive than before. The Annie character in the earlier film is a business partner (albeit an unequal one, a '20%er') of her white friend; in the latter version, she is no more than her maid and occasional confidante. In the 1934 version, Annie's daughter conforms to the 'tragic mulatto' stereotype but retains her personal dignity; in the 1959 version she conforms to the 'promiscuous mixed-blood' stereotype and ends in the gutter. Both scripts struggle to interconnect the relationship between the ambitious white woman and her daughter and the relationship of the black woman and her daughter, in terms of dramatic action, thematic content and comparative time on screen. Although the films place both relationships under the one roof, they run largely in parallel: problems of 'white folks' and problems of 'black folks' are perceived to be so separate. The latter version does worse in this regard. At least the 1934 version tries to bridge the gap by having the Claudette Colbert character go in search of the runaway Sarah Jane. Lana Turner's character just pitches in a few trite comments. This lack of emotional commitment robs the final scene in the 1959 film of any of the power that is present in the earlier version when Colbert goes to comfort Annie's daughter at the hearse. With its undistinguished supporting cast, a terrible score and sometimes laughable dialogue, the remake would, I suspect, have disappeared from critical discussion had it not for its 'controversial' subject-matter and the star pull of an aging Turner.

Imitation of Life (1934)

The one to watch

[8/10 · 27 August 2012]

This 1934 filmed version of the story, which is well written, acted and directed, is the one worth watching. The 1959 version, which is none of these things, has purely historical interest. And the historical interest is this: if these films are anything to go by, in the 25 years between them race relations and the filming-making craft in America both went into reverse. Concentrating on the treatment of race for a moment, while the rabbit's foot and the 'will to death' clichés about African Americans have gone out of the story by 1959, opportunities and recognition for their race are seemingly more elusive than before. The Annie character in the earlier film is a business partner (albeit an unequal one, a '20%er') of her white friend; in the latter version she is no more than her maid and occasional confidante. In the 1934 version, Annie's daughter conforms to the 'tragic mulatto' stereotype but retains personal dignity; in the 1959 version she conforms to the 'promiscuous mixed-blood' stereotype and ends in the gutter. Both scripts struggle to interconnect the relationship between the ambitious white woman and her daughter and the relationship of the black woman and her daughter, in terms of dramatic action, thematic content and comparative time on screen. Although the films place both relationships under the one roof, they run largely in parallel: problems of 'white folks' and problems of 'black folks' are perceived to be so separate. The latter version does worse in this regard. At least the 1934 version tries to bridge the gap by having the Claudette Colbert character go in search of the runaway Sarah Anne. Lana Turner's character just pitches in a few trite comments. This lack of emotional commitment robs the final scene in the 1959 film of any of the power that is present in the earlier version when Colbert goes to comfort Annie's daughter at the hearse. With its undistinguished supporting cast, a terrible score and sometimes laughable dialogue, the remake would, I suspect, have disappeared from critical discussion had it not for its 'controversial' subject-matter and the star pull of an aging Turner. The 1934 version still looks and feels somewhat brave; certainly it has a lot more heart and quality. The DVD's quality in sound and image are also good.

The Woman in White (1982– )

Really surprises

[9/10 · 23 August 2012]

Let me endorse the other positive reviews of this program. The telling of the story is genuinely suspenseful, and just when other dramas of this ilk typically start to loose vigour or founder on their accumulated implausibilities, 'The Woman in White' steps up to a higher tempo and becomes even more intriguing. The cast are outstanding, all the way down, and the production values excellent. The only drawback is that the images in this DVD, of a program first aired in 1982, appear a bit soft and the colours a little muddy. During the first few minutes, I feared this would detract from my enjoyment, but I found the acting so strong and the story so well told that the technical shortcoming paled into insignificance. The series will repay repeated viewings because the plot is intricate, and you may not get all the connections on the first run through.

Tiger Bay (1959)

An area less visited

[8/10 · 23 August 2012]

There are a stack of good reasons for watching this movie: an extraordinary performance by the young Hayley Mills, in her first film; a solid storyline; deft direction by J. Lee Thompson; interesting Welsh locations; striking black and white photography; and a beautiful editing job. All good reasons. But the best reason, for me, is that the film depicts a warm, surprising relationship between a young man and a pre-teen girl, strangers until a chance meeting, that is not clouded or cloyed by hysterical and ugly suppositions of impropriety. It is hard to imagine this subject-matter being treated with such directness and vitality in a movie made today. The available DVD contains a brilliant transfer and fascinating commentary by Hayley Mills recorded in 2004. She has a lot to say about her co-star, the German actor, Horst Buchholz, who is terrific in the firm, and about working alongside John Mills, her father, who plays the investigating detective with his usual aplomb.

The Alan Clark Diaries (2004)

A ramble through Thatcher's Britain

[7/10 · 17 August 2012]

Alan Clark is a junior minister in the Thatcher government: irreverent, accident-prone and indiscreet. He wants to move up the slippery pole but lacks the necessary energy or cunning or self-belief. Only when the administration enters terminal decline can he rise to a higher station as others slip rapidly down the pole. Bureaucrats consider him a fool; he alternately lusts after (the females) and loathes them. John Hurt gets this character very well and Jenny Agutter plays his long-suffering wife with a nice mixture of brave grins and maternal snarls. What's missing is a dramatic context for Clark's monologues/thought bubbles. The viewer is rushed through a series of political accidents and incidents in which it is often hard to know or remember who is who and what is what. Too often, we are expected to be satisfied with the Clark witticisms without being given a proper understanding of what it is he's being witty about. The flatness to the look of the series and the metronomic directorial pacing prevent us from fully engaging with the larger story of a government willing to accommodate someone like Alan Clark.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974)

1970s malaise

[6/10 · 17 August 2012]

New York has got a sore head. The mayor is a schmuck and trails 22 points in the polls. Transit cop, Walter Matthau, has the unenviable chore of escorting several 'directors' of the Tokyo subway on a tour of the subway control room who, it turns out, speak perfect English and have understood his every insult. New York is feeling sorry for itself. It's the mid-1970s, and New Yorkers are compulsorily (in films of the day, at least) yelling at and insulting each other... oh, and by the way, armed men have hijacked a train. The film's strong points are its location shooting, a situation in which the audience is kept guessing how the hijackers plan to get away, and a strong finish to the action. Its weak points are its gratuitous anger and incongruous attempts at humor. Robert Shaw is the most convincing performer in a mix of name actors and little-known or second-rate performers. Matthau, in a out-of-type role, cannot help hamming it up; but rather than providing the sort of comic relief that constructively interacts with the suspense, he undercuts it. Many of the bit players also seem unsure whether they are in a spoof or a genuine thriller. A strange film that could have been much more and has not traveled well.

Out of the Past (1947)

Rubrics Cube

[9/10 · 5 April 2012]

This firm turns up on most Top Ten firm noir lists. Some rate it the best ever made. Watching it again recently, I found it consistently good and often brilliant. The scene in which the male and female leads (Mitchum and Greer) meet in an Acapulco cafe is among the truly memorable scenes put onto the screen: moody location, witty dialogue, palpable sexual tension, and the knowledge – held in suspension by the vitality of the characters – that it is the beginning of their mutual destruction.

The film is put together like a Swiss clock; the two halves are discrete stories, with their own narrative development and denouement, but the one is like the nitrate packed into a larger, second projectile that Tournier fires midway through his tight 97 minute schedule. Because the story creates a solid 'present day' before it moves into flashback and is supplied with a small set of characters, who sit outside the action of its two mise-en-scene halves (the 'clean' love interest and a deaf mute boy), the clock keeps perfect time. We, the audience, are left wondering how it will end right up to the last moment, and, unlike many films, the secondary characters, left on stage at the end, are given a meaningful resolution rather than just cast aside, having fulfilled their plotting purpose.

Greer as the memorable femme fatale character is terrific. She keeps all the elements in movement – vulnerability, manipulativeness, tenderness and deadliness – so that one can never quite give up on her. Mitchum does the hard-boiled 'detective', a character type he made his own, with wonderful gusto and inflection. Kirk Douglas as the glamorous crime boss takes a familiar cinema character to a level rarely reached, with his fascinating mixture of charm and menace. Special mention should be made, too, of Paul Valentine, as the crime boss's enforcer. Again, a familiar part is filled out to make something substantial; it is a definitive performance. The scene in which he describes his feelings on killing one of his boss's targets is more disturbing that any graphic representation of the action event (not shown) could be.

A must for film noir buffs, this film makes a case for inclusion in any Top 100 cinema collection.

Baby the Rain Must Fall (1965)

quiet achiever

[8/10 · 20 March 2012]

This film comes close to being something truly great. It is beautifully photographed and acted (particularly the work of Lee Remick), and the theme, not confronted head on, of child abandonment/abuse, which plays under the images, is quite powerfully evoked. The film's shortcomings are mainly mechanical: some rough transitions in the story-telling; the unsatisfactory attempts by Steve McQueen at miming to a too-professional singing voice; and the omission from the scenario of one or two more direct references to the childhood from which McQueen's dysfunctional character has emerged. Certainly, the loving inactions between Remick's character and her screen daughter, Margaret Rose, are completely convincing and form a strong counterpoint to her husband's damaged personality. But we are not sure where we should be focusing: on their relationship, on the wife and husband relationship, or on his relationship with his adoptive mother (who appears only briefly, but is the unspoken menace). Of course, this difficulty is very much part of what the film is about; however, the various relationships sit so apart from each other, the tragic impact of the one on the others is somewhat lost. I suppose it is a testament to the delicacy and understated-ness of Robert Mulligan's directorial touch (seen to greater effect in 'To Kill a Mockingbird') that this sort of reaction is called up at all. One feels this film has so much that is good, the potential is there... A reflection of its time, perhaps: while it was being made, news broke of a shooting in Dallas and the death of a young president.

Swiss Family Robinson (1960)

Memories unrecoverable

[4/10 · 17 March 2012]

There are some films made for children (or, more correctly, featuring children) that have lasted and retain their appeal, such as 'Whistle Down the Wind' or 'The Railway Children'. The 1960 production 'Swiss Family Robinson' was pitched at eight year olds then but is unlikely to satisfy a modern-day eight-year-old. Certainly it should be avoided by any 1960-era eight year old (now 60 year old) tempted to believe the charm can be conjured a second time. In the hands of an imaginative director, the story has elements that might have been made into something lasting. Nothing about this production, however, suggests those involved felt conviction for what they are doing. It looks, sadly, like a cash register in celluloid.

Love Me Tonight (1932)

Less than the sum of its parts

[6/10 · 15 March 2012]

This acclaimed musical falls far short, in my estimation, of several other contemporary films in the same genre starring Maurice Chevalier and/or Jeanette MacDonald, such as 'The Smiling Lieutenant', 'Naughty Marietta' and 'The Love Parade'. I found it narratively disjointed and lacking in artistic unity; the action proceeds in fit and starts, and at times the director, Rouben Mamoulian, seems unsure how to construct or energise scenes. Lacking the comic touch of a Lubitsch, he employs many styles of comic staging, which don't always knit together. Finally, while there is a great deal of rhyming dialogue in the film, it has comparatively few big musical numbers. 'Isn't It Romantic' is probably the only genuine hit. This review may sound too negative, but with so much hype around the film, its shortcomings need to be discussed.

On the plus side, it is a lavish production, and the film's stars are great talents. (Myrna Loy is a terrific foil to the main love interest, but her part is sadly underdeveloped in the script.) The opening sound sequence, incorporating actual shots of a nearly deserted, early-morning Paris, is a sparkling introduction. Alas, it is probably the best thing in the movie. Some of the dissolve and dual-image photography also delivers memorable images, that suggest a forward-looking creative spirit. At other times, in film-making terms, the production seems old fashioned and tired even for its day (1932).

Sometimes a Great Notion (1971)

A sleeper

[8/10 · 13 March 2012]

Knowing nothing about this firm, apart from the very handy cast, I was surprised and pleased how good it was. The story is simple and not especially original - a family in the logging business defy a strike by the unionised labour in their district and keep working - but it is told with considerable intelligence and gusto.

The entire cast are excellent; they are working with a strong script (an adaptation from a book, which I have not read); and Paul Newman proves himself a skillful director, in this first- up effort. The film's greatest impact point, however, is its setting, in Oregon, and the extensive and exciting sequences of tree felling, trimming, hauling and rafting. These are not fillers; they lie the heart of the film and drive the narrative. Two scenes stand out, in particular: when Hank (Newman's character) is trying to keep his brother (who is trapped under a log in the river) from drowning, by mouth to mouth resuscitation underwater; and Henry Fonda, the mortally injured family patriarch Henry Stamper, in hospital, defying death right to his last gasp.

The central conflict is between the independent, accountable-to-no-one Stamper family and the lumbermen's union, but the more telling commentary on the Stamper philosophy is provided by Lee Remick's character, Hank's wife. On the back of a typically sensitive and wry Remick performance, she is the real counterpoint to the macho, 'life is work, shagging and drinking' world view the family personify. It's not that she wishes to tear it down or even repudiate it; she simply finds it is not enough.

The camera-work and editing are first class. The DVD looks and sounds great. There is enormous energy in the production, which builds to a powerful and convincing conclusion.

Time Lost and Time Remembered (1966)

Charmer with a seriously good script

[9/10 · 13 March 2012]

This 1965 British film, set in Country Clare, Ireland, and London, is a coming-of-age story which, though firmly set in the values and attitudes of its day, attains a timeless quality by virtue of an intelligent, fluent script and fine ensemble playing by a top-notch cast. Sarah Miles plays the girl who leaves an Irish fishing village for London, hoping to be joined by her boyfriend. Desperately lonely, she is befriended by a budding doctor. The story, which I won't spoil by going into more detail, is simple and universal. Anyone who has been in love can relate to it. The film-making style shows distinct influences of the French 'New Wave' (it is also cited as an example of British 'New Wave'; there were lots of waves breaking over cinema at the time) but uses these techniques judiciously and is innovative in its own right. The score by William Alwyn is highly effective and the black-and- white photography lovingly captures the magnificent sky and seascapes of the Irish coast. It is a quiet, almost contemplative film, that uses flashbacks extensively. The weaving of these time transitions is very good, on the whole, but audiences that prefer a linear narrative and buckets of action are not likely to be satisfied. For me, I rate the film highly because I know I already want to watch it again.

Detective Story (1951)

Packs a punch

[9/10 · 13 March 2012]

It is a testament to the directorial versatility of William Wyler that he could make both a film like 'Ben-Hur', with its grand spectacle, and 'Detective Story', an adaptation of a stage play in which most of the action is conducted within one room of a New York police station. This is a fine film, that never seems stage-bound. How Wyler achieves this is something of a miracle. You hardly notice his camera, you are so absorbed in the human dramas. The story revolves around a crusading detective who seems intent on driving all the evil out of the world single-handedly. He is incorruptible, handsome, witty – and heartless and self-destructive. The story spans a single day in which he seems about to bring off a long-hoped-for arrest, until a family secret and a cunning lawyer cut the legs from under him. The story builds to a terrific climax. Several sub-plots are kept running simultaneously, as various suspects are brought into the station under arrest, but the scenario will cleverly knit these characters together. Kirk Douglas is excellent in the lead role, as is Eleanor Parker playing his wife. But the whole cast should stand and take a bow. Sixty years on, 'Detective Story' still packs a punch.

Strangers on a Train (1951)

puppet theatre

[4/10 · 23 February 2012]

This film could have been shot without a word of dialogue - it may have been better had it been. What's good about the film? There are some nice camera set-ups and locations or simulated locations, and some nice black and white photography. That's about it. The plot is completely artificial, with gaps as wide as a barn door.

The scriptwriting is totally uninspired; an implausible story might have been raised to some interesting artistic or imaginative plain by strong dialogue and characterisation, but there is next to none. In the superfluous features accompanying this set it is interesting to note how much the commentators have to say about the character of Bruno the murderer's mother. The character makes two fairly brief appearances in film, so why so much interest? Because the excellent actor invests this small part with something human: she IS almost the only character in the film worth talking about. The rest are puppets.

Hitchcock did a number of films that are extremely dehumanised, i.e. bereft of sympathy for or interest in human complexity (as opposed to human frailty and absurdity). In these films - and this is a prime example - people are manipulated by plot contrivances, camera angles and location/set dynamics and have little or no motive force. Some will say this is the Hitchcockian perspective. Harnessed to better stories and better actors (e.g. I Confess, The Wrong Man, Sabotage, Suspicion, Marnie), the perspective can deliver genuine suspense and human interest. Indulged for its own sake, with something approaching contempt for plot coherence and characterisation, it is dreary. I have seen this film several times, always looking for something I might have missed, but it delivers less, not more, with repeated viewings.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945)

Dreamer and Doer

[10/10 · 16 February 2012]

Betty Smith's acclaimed 1940s novel is given a memorable and enduring treatment by director Elia Kazan on his debut. The film works so well for an audience today, despite being rooted in a very specific time and place -- pre-war Brooklyn -- because its real concerns are universal. The contest or contrast between a dreamy, charming, alcoholic husband, who makes others feel good about life, and a practical mother, who runs the family and makes herself less attractive to others in her relentless pursuit of a decent living, could be transposed to any culture, any time. The cast are faultless. The mother, Dorothy McGuire (who Kazan apparently thought might be too refined for the part) is excellent as Mrs Catherine Nolan. She understands the role intimately and gets the acquired 'hardness' of the woman, determined to lift up her family's fortunes, just right. James Dunn picked up an Oscar for his performance as her husband. Who could deny him? He is totally believable in the part. Both children are excellent: in a sense they are at the core of the story (almost all the outdoor action concentrates on them) and the actors carry the story with charm and humour. There are a handful of films about family life lived at the fringes of poverty which, by striking a balance between joy and pain, have retained lasting value. This is one of them.

The Korean-made DVD provides a good image and sound from an unrestored but clean copy of the film. The liner notes are in English and there is a full suite of subtitles, if you need them. A good product.

The Apartment (1960)

Everlasting

[10/10 · 16 February 2012]

Billy Wilder turns a limpid eye upon the swinging sixties (right there at the beginning) in New York -- cheating husbands and hard-bitten good-time girls ('the takers'); hopeful lovers and buddy boys ('those who get took') -- and from out of this mire lifts up two memorable, redeeming characters, played to perfection by Shirley MacLaine and Jack Lemmon, at the height of their powers. As you would expect with something written for the screen by Wilder and his associate I.A.L.Diamond, the story moves through a perfect arc of comic situation, misunderstandings, misdirected desires, thwarted hopes, and on to a believable resolution that draws these elements along with it but trumps them all. The dialogue is witty, and the comedy is as broad as the satire is cutting -- one never dominates or displaces the other; we laugh and we sigh at once. There are one or two lacunae in the action -- coffee that should scald; old cooked spaghetti that should no longer be limp -- but to focus on these, and ignore the much that is real and effective, would be a terrible mistake. The scenes of Miss Kubelik and Mr Baxter alone together are quite wonderful. 'I was Robinson Crusoe,' Baxter tells her at one point, 'shipwrecked among eight million people, till I saw a footprint in the sand and looked up to find you.' Among a million films, I would suggest, this one will leave a lasting imprint on you.