Monday, September 21, 2015

"The Owl and the Pussycat" (1970)

The New Cinema of the 1970's had no room for slick picture-perfect rom-com's of Hollywood past. An Barbra Streisand's career was stalling in overblown gargantuan musicals (I remember one of MAD magazine's parody covers at the time, "On a Clear Day You Can Hear a Funny Girl Singing Hello Dolly Forever"). So this modest little comedy, basically just two characters and based on Bill Manhoff's hit Broadway play, was just what everyone needed. It was "adult", there were four letter words, nudity, sex, prostition, drugs, fetishes, all set in grimy, gritty Lindsay-era New York City. It was a little foul-mouthed and very funny. It was still boy and girl meet cute, hate each other, bicker, fall in love, bicker some more, and cue the happy ending. And the pairing of a staid pent up bookish guy who meets a flirty free spirit girl with sparks flying goes back to at least "Bringing Up Baby", but what puts this telling over the top is the pairing of a looser Streisand and her likable co-star, George Segal. You root for the sparring couple, and isn't that what romance pictures are all about? A young Robert Klein makes a good appearance, and extra points for the jazz rock score and end credit song by au courant band of the time Blood, Sweat, and Tears.



"Pale Rider" (1985)

By the mid-1980's the moribund western genre needed a much needed kickstart, a fresh approach to re-ignite interest in the classic filmic form. Along came Clint Eastwood--in his first western in nine years--with this very serious elegiac picture where he's essentially resurrecting his 'man with no name' persona. And maybe resurrect is the wrong word, since he's playing a specter risen from the dead--or is he? We're in gold mining country in northern California sometime after the Civil War. A land baron (snarly Richard Dysart) is terrorizing a small panning community with his rough riding goon squad led by his son (Chris Penn). He wants their land rights, they need a miracle. As if on cue, in rides a mysterious stranger on a pale horse (see Revelation 6:8, aka 'Death') with almost super human strength and sureshot gunslinging abilities to save them. Eastwood barely raises his voice above a low rasp. You get the feeling he's not only playing with the mythos of the movie western, he's goosing his own cinematic legacy. If you like your oaters heavy with symbolism and meaning, this is your ticket. If not, you still get all those great Hollywood tropes: gorgeous mountain vistas, galloping horses, violent gunfights on main street, cowering womenfolk...all painterly lit by photographer Bruce Surtees in sepulchral tones of grey, brown, ochre, charcoal, and black. A fine entry to the canon.


Saturday, September 19, 2015

"The Little Foxes" (1941)

Probably my favorite of Bette Davis' 1940's melodramas, a superb filming of Lillian Hellman's  play about greed, deception and their ultimate cost. She's the calculating and mercenary matriarch of a completely amoral turn-of-the-century family in the deep South. The main plot hinges on the double dealings amongst Davis and her two venal brothers (Charles Dingle, Carl Benton Reid) for the family business. It's a game of chess as they all try to outsmart the others for the financial spoils but completely blind to the effect it has on all the other 'good' members of the clan, Davis' daughter (wholesome Teresa Wright), the fragile sister-in-law (Patricia Collinge), and her sickly but defiant husband (Herbert Marshall). Intelligent script by Hellman is only aided by the dead-on direction of William Wyler. Watch for how he packs so much information in the frame, expertly utilizing cinematographer Gregg Toland's deep focus photography (he lensed "Citizen Kane" that same year). There's as much happening in the foreground and background as there is in the main center frame action. Davis plays it hard and bitter, with some scary kabuki-like white make-up, a mask hiding the cold heart underneath. Frightening and fascinating, the famous murder scene will give you chills.


Monday, September 7, 2015

"The Strange Love of Martha Ivers" (1946)

One of the fascinating aspects of film noir is how malleable a genre it is, how it can combine with other genres to supply endless variations on the tenets of the form. Here it takes the shape of a moody melodrama, but because it's noir, the family story at it's core takes on a lurid psycho-sexual undercurrent. In the lengthy prologue, three young teenagers are party to a Big Secret that involves murder. Almost twenty years later the girl is Barbara Stanwyck who has married one of the boys (Kirk Douglas in his fine feature debut). Van Heflin is the second boy who in coming back to town shakes up the past...and everyone's world. Blackmail, betrayal, old passions, and yes, more murder are on tap. And if that's not enough enter Lizabeth Scott, the poor man's Bacall, to turn the sordid love triangle into a messy rectangle. Lording over the whole steamy stew is Stanwyck in her usual nonpareil form. No one did the Ice Queen Bitch better than her. Watch how she emasculates the two symbolically impotent male leads with just her eyes! That's acting.  And she does it in a knockout wardrobe of Edith Head shoulder padded stunners to boot.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

"The Asphalt Jungle" (1950)

If you look way down deep into the blackest heart of film noir, near the nadir you'll find this grandaddy of all caper flicks. Every character's motivation is driven by the darker side of human nature, and that can only lead to tragedy. But oh what cinematic thrills await in the telling of the tale! All caper films follow the same basic formula, this one set the rules (and the high bar): a group of shady types, each with his own expertise, concoct a high stakes heist that must be executed with Swiss timepiece accuracy. What could go wrong? The answer is almost always plenty. But that's not even when the real drama begins. How do all these nefarious types divvy up the booty? As the saying goes, 'there's no honor among thieves'. A perfect ensemble cast (Sterling Hayden, Louis Calhern, Same Jaffe,  Jean Hagen, James Whitmore, and making her slinky film debut, Marilyn Monroe), all somehow manage to make you care for these desperate people even as you watch them do despicable things to each other. Only that irascible devil of a director John Huston could pull off this witch's brew of movie malevolence. Must-see viewing for anyone who loves film.