 How I felt watching it Director: Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen Writer: Betty Comden and Adolph Green Cinematographer: Robert J. Bronner Producer: Arthur Freed by Jon Cvack The name of this film cannot stick with me. I’ve searched It’s Always More Fair and It’s Always Fairer at least a dozen times now while searching for the film, never able to recall the title. If you could judge a film by its name then this musical would honor the principle completely. Netflix advertised the movie as a satire of MGM musicals, which called to mind The Band Wagon (1953) and its ability to explore genre and trope within a traditional format. I had been on a role with Gene Kelly these last few years, specifically his collaboration with Frank Sinatra in On the Town (1949) and Anchors Aweigh (1945), figuring the same plot of soldiers returning from the war would offer another yet another solid addition, Sinatra or no. Unfortunately, it’s a film that plays like it was made with the year’s remaining budget, forfeiting big set pieces and matching song and dance numbers for a film that flirts with ideas about post-war alienation, never amounting to much. The film opens up on VJ day in 1945, as three war buddies Ted Riley (Gene Kelly), Doug Hallerton (Dan Dailey) and Angie Valentine (Michael Kidd) work their way through the parading streets, ending up at a bar where they each discuss their dreams. Angie wants to be a famous cook, Doug wants to be a world renowned painter, and Riley wants to be rich and successful. After an underwhelming song and dance sequence, they swear to meet up with each other in ten years. The time races by as wives, kids, and the professional grind impede their plans. Ted never becomes the big shot businessman (or whatever it was he hoped to be), currently involved with some mafiosos in fixing a fight; Doug has hit the corporate grind, moving up the ladder and abandoning the canvas; and Angie never gets his Michelin 3-Star restaurant, instead trying to manage a small diner. The three remember the bet, and while each has to finagle his way out of their commitments, they meet back up at the bar, finding that they have little to say, if not completely disliking each other. The film did a fantastic job of setting up an interesting situation in which the brotherhood formed in war fades when civilian life enter into the picture; leaving me thinking of alienation explored in The Best Years of Our Lives. It’s the musical element that stand in its own way. The film flirts with the more substantive issue. Doug offers the most interesting conflict as he reaches his breaking point with the executive role, getting wasted during a company party and embarrassing his boss. Angie’s story kind of fades by comparison whereas Ted offers your traditional gangster-gone-good redemption. Somehow they get involved with a television producer Jackie Leighton (Cyd Charisse) that wants to put their story on a live television show that night, plot serving the film to get both an attractive love interest into the mix along with providing an underwhelming climax. Riley eventually ditches out on the fixed fight and the gangster goes after him, ending up at the show where a fight breaks out and the police arrive. The whole thing feels grossly under budgeted, plays boring, though does illustrate that not all musicals from the period were the spectacle movies as seen in the more popular titles. Nothing in this film stands out beyond the possibility of a good story; exploring the lives of three men who discover they have little in common beyond the bonds of war. To think of all the sequences that could have stemmed from this seed - flashbacks to battles, drunken furloughs, spanning across all theaters of battle, all while trying to make the others understand why their life has become so ordinary - seems like one of the most significant missed opportunities in musical history. BELOW: One of the film's few impressive song and dance numbers Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Little boys and trains knows no bounds Director: Yasujirō Ozu Writer: Kogo Noda and Yasujirō Ozu Cinematographer: Yūharu Atsuta Producer: Takeshi Yamamoto by Jon Cvack I figured it was safe to assume that Early Summer would follow the style of Ozu’s other seasonal titles, focusing on a family as one of the members dealt with a woman who was reluctant to leave home. Late Spring (1949) follows an aging widower whose aging daughter refused to leave his care, The End of Summer (1961) flips the narrative, focusing on a widow who recruits her friends to match up her daughter, with Early Summer removing the more interesting co-stars, replacing them with a pair of matchmakers, creating a rom com structure with a melancholic romance. It involves 28-year old secretary Noriko Mamiya (Setsuko Hara) whose boss Satake (Shūji Sano) recommends as a match for his forty old friend and businessman. Not too interested, Noriko delays the decision as most of the members from her extensive family begin pushing her to accept. Soon she meets a childhood friend Kenkichi Yabe (Hiroshi Nihonyanagi), a doctor and recent widower, whose wife died a few years and brother was killed in WWII. Soon he’s called to a remote village for work, bringing Noriko along and the two soon get engaged, devastating her family. In the end they accept the decision, happy that she’s happy, watching her off as she travels off to start her new life, walking off through the barley fields. It’s this last point that someone on Wikipedia really lays into, editorializing that this closing image represents the “impermanent nature of life.” I personally just saw it as an art house version of a fairly classic romance. A girl is told to marry a successful businessman versus an impecunious doctor who’s dedicated his life to serving others and the family eventually comes around. Most of Ozu’s “seasonal” work I’ve seen has masterfully integrated these ideas into the narrative, combining older and younger characters that fully capture the finality of life and universality of what it means to be human. Early Summer was the first time I was bored with the filmmaker, as considering this story anything more profound than a 30s/40s American rom com is stretching the praise. What Ozu did so well with his other films (and I’m only about halfway through his filmography) is taking ridiculously simple stories and providing characters that create volumes of insight. Early Summer almost feels incomplete; as though failing to ever getting the full polish included on all his other work. It’s worth checking out, if nothing more than for realizing that he can repeat the same story for a third time, and with only minute differences, and make it feel far more empty. BELOW: Those closing barley fields - beautiful image or profound meditation on the impermanence of life? Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  First time using a .gif as it seems Google has cracked down hard on unlicensed film images Director: David Lean Writer: H.E. Bates and David Lean; based on a play by Arthur Laurents Cinematographer: Jack Hildyard Producer: Ilya Lopert by Jon Cvack Something’s getting particularly exciting with seeing older films shot overseas in color before color film was ubiquitous; with the blues, reds, and yellows popping in technicolor, all while thinking that this was perhaps the first time most people had seen these exotic locations in motion. It’s an easy point to forget that before the internet, it was either a crappy television that would show you moving images or movies; meaning that when you went to the theater - seeing an image that digital is still trying to replicate - you were witnessing one of the finest ways to experience images. Summertime takes place in Venice, Italy, where a middle aged and single school secretary Jane Hudson (Katharine Hepburn) arrives with a fifth of whisky and camera, immediately meeting a few fascinating characters, including fellow midwesterners and recent retirees Lloyd (MacDonald Parke) and Edith (Jane Rose ) whose hunger for Venice is more for crossing it off a list of places to visit than the culture. Being use to David Lean’s larger stories - Dr. Zhivago, Bridge Over the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia - or even his larger adaptations Great Expectations or Oliver Twist. I believe the previous film I saw of his was Hobson's Choice (1954), which was equally surprising in style, though not necessarily for the better. Summertime plays like a modern indie film, much more in the spirit of Linklater’s Before Trilogy than any type of classical romantic drama from the period. For the first half or so we’re simply following Jane as she navigates the Venice streets, often told through the point of view of her camera where she films the architecture, art, and people. She eventually meets a young kid and huckster Mauro (Gaetano Autiero) who takes her around the city, coaxing cigarettes from Jane. To see a film that was honest enough to show a kid actually smoke - who might very well exist in such a setting - is another of hundreds of details that all add up to an incredibly authentic piece of filmmaking. It’s evident that David Lean wasn’t throwing darts at a map, but rather providing an intimate and personal story about a particular city. It’s rare for older films to allow me to so heavily empathize with characters, as I’m often distracted by the performances, iconic performers, or older styles. Not being the biggest fan of Katharine Hepburn, I thought this was her greatest and most vulnerable performance I’ve seen. It’s Hepburn’s large personality that can turn me off at points, as it’s grown redundant to the point of parody. Hepburn disappears into Jane, breaking my heart as we watch a woman that is in no way desperate for love, though dealing with the melancholy of approaching old age (Hepburn was in her late 40s at the time), knowing that she might very well be alone for the rest of her life. As annoying as Lloyd and Edith are, they’re a couple whose relationship has lasted a lifetime, adding up just enough to expound Jane’s struggle with age and loneliness. While shopping in an antique shop, looking at a red 18th century goblet, she meets Renato de Rossi (Rossano Brazzi); a handsome and slightly older man. In a brilliant scene, Jane inquires about the goblet’s price. Renato says 10,000 lira and Jane agrees, with Renato then explaining how she should never accept the first offer, instead offering 8,700. The two meet each other again and head back to Jane’s place when Lloyd and Edith return, with Edith mentioning how she had just picked up a bunch of goblets from a local glassblower. She opens up the case and we see the same red goblets. Jane asks how much Edith had paid, who amits to 10,000 lira. Jane accuses Renato of lying, who defends himself by explaining that she did in fact have an 18th century goblet, as it’s a very popular style, and even if it was the same, he still gave her the discount. Ultimately we never know whether or not he was telling the truth. Later, after agreeing to go to dinner with Renato, Jane meets his son who explains - getting lost in translation - that Renato is married. Again Jane confronts him, where Renato admits both to having had an affair with another woman at the hotel, along with being separated, though not yet divorced from his wife. It’s all questionable, as even after the affair with the fellow patron is defended as being none of Jane’s business, having occurred before her arrival, and again we’re not exactly sure what is truth. Jane continues to see him, but with her time - and money - limited, she knows she must return back home. In the film’s best scene, up there with David Lean’s finest, we see her leave, waiting for one last goodbye from Renato, who as the train is leaving, has a present in hand, chasing her down, never to catch up. Writing so much of this out it all seems so cheesy or uninspired, and yet like the best stories, with Linklater’s Before Trilogy serving as the finest example, it’s often the simplest ideas that can open up the most fascinating stories. We’re not sure of Renato’s veracity, whether Jane actually thought the relationship was doomed, or was too scared to try for reasons we never understand, but can only surmise through the melancholy Jane expresses and carries throughout the film. I struggle to think of a film that could be remade with the same script today - down to the child smoking - and remain just as relevant. Lean had the magnificent ability to create timeless stories. This is by his most underrated film, and one of the most underrated films from the period. BELOW: Lean making flirtation play like Hitchcock Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Jack Arnold Writer: Robert M. Fresco and Martin Berkeley; story by Jack Arnold; based on "No Food for Thought" (teleplay, Science Fiction Theatre, May 17, 1955) by Robert M. Fresco Cinematographer: George Robinson Producer: William Alland by Jon Cvack I’m running low on solid 1950s creature features, surprised I hadn’t seen or even heard of this film (or at the very least that it’d be worth checking out). Released alongside such legends from the genre as Them! ('54), The Thing from Another World ('51), Creature of the Black Lagoon ('54), The Blob ('58), Godzilla ('54), The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms ('53), or the tragically underrated Night of the Demon ('57), they captured the fears of a Red Scare, coupled with fears of nuclear fallout, what they really provided was the first modern look at monster movies. The films never contained the high and ultra modern craftsmanship found in more laudable fare from the decade such as Anatomy of a Murder ('59), The Enemy Below ('57), or Touch of Evil ('58), the films weren’t all that far behind; likely constrained by budget more than ingenuity, in which most of the funds either went toward star power, or if they were smart, toward the monsters themselves. What makes Tarantulas outshine much of its competition was abandoning the inevitable difficulty in constructing a monster, instead relying on some type of superimposed creature shadow; shooting what looks like an actual Tarantula and laying it over the film stock, ensuring that the scene’s lighting would justify a silhouetted creature. It opens up in Desert Rock, Arizona where a facially deformed man dies running through the desert, escaping from something or someone. An attractive man and young doctor from the city, Matt Hasting (John Agar) completes the autopsy, discovering that the person died from acromegaly which is a form of excessive growth hormones that can cause deformity over the long term. Yet while it should have taken years, he believes he saw the same man just days before. Dr. Gerald Deemer signs off on the autopsy (Leo G. Carroll) while also conducting his own experiments back at his mansion home located far in the middle of the desert, which we later learn is using growth hormones to create giant versions of rabbits, mice, and of course, a tarantula. His newest assistant is the gorgeous Stephanie Clayton (Mara Corday) who takes a liking to Hasting and slowly unravels Deemer’s plans, soon connecting them to the attacks. 1950s sci-fi films are often divided between the scientists and the army/police, each doubting the other side’s ability to resolve the problem, reflecting a conservative/liberal split. The Thing and It Came from Outer Space ('53) took the scientific point of view, while Them! and Tarantulas took the military’s. Deemer’s intention might have been honorable, but the dangers of science led to the creation of the monster and the police are aware of that fact. It’s only when they call in the air force that the creature can be destroyed, as fighter jets dump their entire stock of napalm and burn the thing to a crisp, with Hasting and Deering having close to no role in the resolution, serving as a rare conservative voice in a genre that seems increasingly determined to utilize allegory rather than demonstrate a terrifying view of the world that has no explanation. Both can be effective. Tarantulas is a great creature feature, able to stand with all the rest of them, and yet a film I’ve heard very little about. BELOW: A brilliant use of lighting to pull of a simple effect. The same technique today, updated correctly, could achieve some cool stuff Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The most disproportionate ratio of how cool the movie looks:how bad the movie is Director: Henry Hathaway Writer: Nunnally Johnson; based on Rommel: The Desert Fox by Desmond Young Producer: Nunnally Johnson Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine by Jon Cvack This year I’ve noticed myself coming across James Mason films more and more, starting with A Star is Born (1958), then to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954), then to Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959), and now to The Desert Fox. I had first heard of the film when I was assembling a list of great WWII films, and figured this sounded pretty good. Although the comparisons are clear, James Mason would never achieve the fame of Cary Grant, and his body of work reflects such; in that he with the exception of Lolita (1955) and North by Northwest (1959), he hasn’t really been in all that many classic popular films. The story involves a first address by Lt.-Colonel Desmond Young, who plays himself, describing how he’s going to try and understand the man who was Rommel, who served as one of the more foremost threats to civilization. We flashback to North Africa circa 1942, where Rommel fails to counter Montgomery’s attack and was forced to retreat, leaving Rommel less certain of Nazi Germany’s future. Back home, he’s approached by an old friend , Dr. Karl Strölin (Cedric Hardwicke), who asks Rommel if he wants to join their anti-Hitler group. Rommel refuses and is later assigned to the Atlantic Wall, where Operation D-Day shortly follows. Rommel implores Hitler to reinforce certain positions, which Hitler denies, leaving the despondent Rommel to then join the anti-Hitler group. We then get to see the Valkyrie July 20, 1944 assassination plot, which fails, leaving Hitler hyper paranoid, soon implicating Rommel. Writing this out and reading this story I first have to say that this is an amazing story that I never knew about and highly recommend checking out. This is a remake waiting to be told, as it examines a complex character torn between loyalty to country versus all mankind. Unfortunately, this film falls far short of catching that. I suppose it’s impressive for even attempting to examine the man, and made only six years after WWII I wonder what the American military would’ve thought of it. Would they despise the man for butchering their brothers, respect his vast military intelligence, or celebrate the secret? One of the biggest problems is that James Mason maintains his British accent, along with most of the Nazi soldiers. While it left wondering when exactly the movies decided to add the accent, I just couldn’t believe the world because of it. Would it be more offensive for Rommel to have someone attempt his accent, or have Mason preserve his own? I would take the accent as I was immediately pulled out of the film every time he spoke. There’s also a scene with Hitler, which while interesting for historical purposes (this was one of the first dramatic Hitler performances), was way too goofy to work. It was another film that used actual war footage to intercut the timelines, and while it was kind of justified given Young’s narration, it made the narrative scenes look cheap as a result. I’ve got a few more decent James Mason films to get to and I’m excited to see what else the man can do, but it all reminds me of his connection to A Star is Born; a man who was at the top and fell. In some ways Rommel shows the same trajectory, as though anticipating where Mason would head. BELOW: One of - if not the first - dramatic portrayal of Hitler, which somehow feels comedic and shallow Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  In terms of cinematic history, an underrated performance from Welles Director: Richard Fleischer Writer: Richard Murphy; Based on Compulsion by Meyer Levin Cinematography: William C. Mellor Producer: Richard D. Zanuck by Jon Cvack Last time I saw Rope we were a few weeks out from entering into production for Road to the Well, which gets better with every viewing and left me all the more inspired to work on our film's blocking. For a few days, our DP Tim convinced me to name the RttW’s production company Leopold and Loebe, until our producer made us realize that having a company named after two psychotic murderers wasn’t the smartest a move. The more I read about the crime, the eerier they became; committed by two Northwestern Law students, taking the ideas of Nietzsche and his thoughts on the übermensch in order to try and commit the perfect murder. I went to school directly beneath Evanston, in Rogers Park and there’s something especially chilling about the cold Chicago weather and frozen Lake Michigan that paints a creepy portrait. I had no idea that there was a crime drama about the actual Leopold and Loebe, let alone one that stars Orson Welles. So on it went. First off, like El Dorado for a B&W crime film, this is a brilliant transfer, showing off every wrinkle beneath Orson’s scolding eyes, shot by William C. Miller, who didn’t really do much else beyond The Greatest Show on Earth; as neither did director Richard Fleischer (who did such films as Soylent Green and The Jazz Singer remake with Neil Diamond, and portions of Tora! Tora! Tora! a few years before that). The forces formed a near perfect story, examining the two students as they plan, execute, and fess up to a murder. I was especially excited to see how they dealt with the gay undertones that have been reported in the story. The film finds the perfect balance between suggestion and subtly. Friends Judd Steiner (Dean Stockwell) and Artie Strauss (Bradford Dillman) are two law students with genius IQs, who believe they could use their supreme intellect to commit the perfect murder. Artie professes his knowledge of Nietzsche and his ideas that moral subjectivity, based upon the individual, and uses the logic for evil. I wrote my philosophy thesis back in college on this exact idea, working with my professor Tom Carson to explain the few conditions necessary to make Nietzsche’s ideas work. One of the most significant qualities was that the individual needed to be “psychologically healthy” (with the arbiter of “healthy” reserved for a different paper). Point being that Artie was immediately misinterpreting the message, twisting it to include cold blooded murder. The story proceeds into a cat and mouse game, with Artie caught in a love triangle between Ruth Evans (Diane Varsi) and her current boyfriend and fellow law student Sid Brooks (Martin Milner), who got a job at the Chicago Globe, investigating the body that Artie and Judd killed off, discovering Artie’s pair of glasses that he left there. The police take whiff, and in a brilliant scene involving the detectives asking Artie to demonstrate how he would have lost his glasses, they eventually book the two, bringing in the best part of the movie - Mr. Orson Welles. Part of me thinks that Orson Welles only signed onto this movie in order to complete the last scene’s monologue, as he doesn’t appear until over halfway through, and while commanding each and every moment from there on out, it’s the final monologue where he argues for the boy’s to be spared the death penalty that he really shines. The role is brilliantly complex, in that on the one hand Jonathan Wilk (Welles) is an exceptionally well paid attorney and atheist, acting for the prestige, power, and money the case could bring, others might see him acting as a man solely against the death penalty in whatever facet. The only concern I had is with the abrupt conclusion. I’m aware that there wasn’t more to see or experience. The boys were going to be killed and that was that. It’s this fact that makes me all the more appreciative of what Hitchcock did with his version. He seemed to understand that there wasn’t much drama come the conclusion of Leopold and Loebe, instead focusing on the smaller moments, condensing the story and creating something equally terrifying. Compulsion’s a great film. I’d love to see it on the big screen, but it’s more about the performances and photography than the story. Definitely worth checking out. BELOW: How I've never heard of this scene, let alone the film, is beyond me Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of Bergman's better roles Director: Mark Robson Writer: Isobel Lennart; based onThe Small Woman by Alan Burgess Cinematographer: Freddie Young Producer: Buddy Adler by Jon Cvack This is one of the earlier versions of the white-person-goes-to-war-torn- foreign-country-and-saves-the-people-of-color I’ve ever seen (i.e., Dangerous Minds, Seven Years in Tibet, The Last Samurai, etc), featuring Ingrid Bergman as Aylward, a impecunious and real life Swedish missionary who’s determined to get to China in order to help the poor and spread the Christian word. She boards the Train-Siberian railway and heads to Yang Cheng, where she meets fellow missionary Jeannie Lawson (Athene Seyler) who begins working at an old Inn - newly named The Sixth Inn of Happiness - where in exchange for a meal, patrons will get Biblical stories and a free copy of the book. Soon Jeannie dies, leaving Aylward in charge of the place. The town is controlled by a type of mayor (I’d like to know the proper noun for this position), who provides us with our second white person, Lin (Curt Jürgens) - white in the sense that it’s a very white British actor playing a half white/half Chinese man in a way that leaves me wondering just how many other white men dressed up like Chinese people, as Mickey Rooney would go on to do the same thing just a few years later in 1961’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Alec Guinness would do in A Passage to India (1984). Jürgens’ comes to complete with a grating high pitched squeaky voice that makes his character almost as annoying as it offensive. And still there’s a third half white/half Mandarin man called "The Mandarin", also played by a white actor (Robert Donat). Not to go too far into the politics, but it really leaves you wondering whether it was that no one thought to cast an actual Chinese person, or that the studios forbid the possibility due to some racist policy, as regardless of which, it’s so glaringly offensive, that each scene was smothered by this fact, preventing me from being fully drawn in. Nevertheless, Gladys Ayward goes onto to complete some incredible work, reforming much of the town and gaining the people’s affection - much to the chagrin of Lin. She gets the town to ban foot binding, cares and educates the town’s children, and ushes in better prison conditions, dedicating her entire life toward helping out others. I recommend checking out Ayward’s wikipedia page, as her story is a pretty cool read. The Japanese soon invade China, during the Second-Sino Japanese War, heading straight for Yang Cheng, forcing the Mandarin to go join the military. During a bombing run, the town is nearly destroyed and Japanese forces just days away. With many of the townspeople gone, Ayward is left in charge of the dozens and dozens of children, leading them through the mountains and back to safety. While Ayward’s life and what she accomplishes is great, the white actors playing Chinamen is distracting. It’s a long film, clocking in a two and a half hours, and while I’m sure at the time it could have been a great movie, I’ve just felt like I’ve seen it so many times before. It’s worth checking out, as Ingrid Bergman’s performance is worth the viewing alone. BELOW: Pretty good final scene (also not finding anything else on the YT) Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  It all starts with a tiara Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Charles Lederer; based on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1949 musical) by Anita Loos and Joseph Fields Cinematographer: Harry J. Wild Producer: Sol C. Siegel by Jon Cvack It’s been a long time since since I’ve How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), but I really didn’t like the film’s overall message, which is that women should use their charms, looks, and sexuality to find rich and successful men who can lavish them with gifts and launch them into the upper echelons of high society. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a lighter version of this same philosophy, except with Marilyn Monroe being the sole proprietor of this twisted worldview. Monroe’s iconic look has marketed ad nauseum through places such as Hot Topic, Kohl’s, H&M and other mass chain stores. Given the continued success of all this stuff - ranging from posters to t-shirts to people continuing to dress like her, you can’t help feeling nostalgic for the days when celebrities could take on a such a high place in culture, and maintain it for nearly seventy years. In a time when entertainment extends beyond the big screen, allowing for famous tv stars, video gamers, musicians, reality stars, YouTubers and other social media influencers, I’m not sure anyone could ever hold the same place within culture, as we’re so over saturated with celebrity in all avenues of life, that it seems nearly impossible. The story revolves around two women Lorelei Lee (Monroe) and her dance song and dance partner Dorothy Shaw (Jane Russell) who travel to France for work. Lorelei’s engaged to the extravagantly wealthy man, Gus Esmond (Tommy Noonan), whose father refuses to let him get married, fearing that Lorelei is only interested in his money. Aboard the ship, Lorelei then grows enamored with diamond businessman, Sir Francis Beekman (Charles Coburn), who’s about 75 years old when the filming place, whose wife has a diamond studded tiara worth about $12,000 (about $107k in today’s money). Meanwhile, Dorothy meets and quickly falls in love with Ernie Malone (Elliot Reid), who’s a private detective hired by Gus’s father in order to spy on Lorelei, who later gets caught with Beekman - and while not showing or specifying what they’re doing, there’s heavy suggestion that Lorelei might have slept with Beekman in order to get the tiara, which then leads to the police getting involved, landing the two women in court, with a bunch of musical numbers scattered about. When Michelle Williams portrayed the legend in My Week With Marilyn (2011), we got to see a very confused woman, who struggled with her international stardom and sex appeal. Having seen most of Monroe’s more popular work, I’m increasingly blown away by how lascivious even the simplest seen with her can be. Looking at both this film and what I remember from How to Marry a Millionaire, Marilyn’s character of Lorelei Lee is about as far from a bluestocking as you can get, playing the traditional ditzy blond whose entire worldview revolves around money and diamonds; culminating in their classic “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” routine. Rather than looking for a partner that can provide a loving and interesting relationship, she focuses on rich and boring men who can provide all she materially desires. In one scene between her square fiance Gus Esmond (Tommy Noonan) and his father who directly accuses Lorelie of gold digging, we’re offered one of the few enlightening philosophies Lorelei possesses, which is that just as a man wants a good looking woman, women want rich men who they know can take care of her (Lorelei must have taken an evolutionary biology course or two). Edmond’s father isn’t really sure what to make of it, finally capitulating and supporting the engagement. The older I get the more I can see why Monroe soared to popularity, with movies such as The Seven Year Itch (1955) demonstrating the weakness of men when confronted with overwhelmly and salacious beauty. Such a character allowed men to live out their lustful fantasies. What I find strangest of all, though, and which seems to be much a more antiquated idea, is the puerile attitude Lorelei possesses. She feigns stupidity and dizziness, showing us how men created female characters back in the day; that women shouldn’t have high minded interests, as it’s better if they’re completely dependent on men, looking to material objects for their entire life’s purpose. I found myself getting frustrated every time Lorelie would put on the tiniest dress she could find and rely overwhelmingly on her sexuality to get what she wanted rather than any form of intellectual trickery. I suppose the point was to foil against Dorothy’s more analytic and thoughtful approach, but it remained just as frustrating, leaving me to turn back to the film Marilyn, which showed that even Monroe-herself had likely grown frustrated as being nothing more than a sex object for most men, with those in power demanding she preserve her whimsical character type all the way up to the end. It makes it all the more tragic to watch a film like this, knowing that its design likely contributed to Monroe’s sense of alienation. In some ways it offers an historical portrait of the woman, and what would soon lead up to her tragic demise. BELOW: Between ostensibly providing sex for money and calling her fiancé "Daddy", it's all very bizarre Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The best I can find of Charles Lang's gorgeous photography Director: John Ford Writer: Written by Nardi Reeder Campion; Screenplay by Edward Hope (not sure of the difference between Campion and Hope); based on Bringing Up the Brass: My 55 Years at West Point by Martin Maher Cinematographer: Charles Lawton Jr. and Charles Lang Producer: Robert Arthur by Jon Cvack In a complete departure from the westerns and/or many John Wayne collaborations typically associated with the star, John Ford turned the camera a bit inward, focusing on the true story of Irish immigrant Marty Maher (Tyrone Power), who arrives at West Point Military Academy to become a cook, immediately enamored with the institution’s commitment to tradition and prestige. The film is strikingly similar to Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939) and therefore, by extension, the film I compared Goodbye, Mr. Chips to, Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995); all three involve the story of one person who gets whisked away by the spirit of education and having an impact on students. I’m not sure if the three films is the minimum for qualifying as a sub-genre, but like its brethren, The Long Gray Line doesn’t have much of a plot beyond following one man’s life throughout his many years, facing the occasional historical event, including both World Wars. The movie starts strong, with the technicolor shining bright, and once again, after seeing El Dorado (1966), it made me wish that I had the high def version, as regardless of the simple story, some of the scenes are absolutely breathtaking, having mostly - if not all - been shot on the actual West Point campus. Maher decides to enlist in the Army in order to get the steady paycheck and better treatment. There’s an awkward class tension between Maher who starts off as a enlisted private, caring for the students who’re half his age and destined to be his superior. I’ve never really understood the strict line between the two positions, but from what I gather in a quick Google search an officer is someone with at least a bachelor’s degree who’s trained to eventually to supervise enlisted men. We explore the campus along with Marty, discovering the duties of an enlisted officer at a prestigious university. There are ideas about honor and code involved, with the young cadets following a strict set of rules and rigid schedules, which upon being a minute late, could result in disciplinary action. Opening, closing, and scattered throughout, we see the students marching over and over and over again, with their legs moving in perfect synchronicity. Although I’ve seen many scenes with marches before, it was between this and a recent half-viewing of A Few Good Men (1992) and its introductory drill platoon, that I began to understand synchronicity as both an exercise and a metaphor. In both marching and drill, any single soldier that messes up makes the entire unit suffer - whether in image or performance, with A Few Good Men exploring this exact topic. In The Long Gray Line, the title says it all. We never get to meet the majority of the men, but we see them marching, and understand that their purpose is as significant as any of the others we get to know more intimately. However, it’s shortly after Marty meets Mary O’Donnell (Maureen O’Hara) and their awkward romance blooms, involving Mary’s refusal to talk to him, resulting in Marty slapping her in the chin, not playfully, but hard, out of frustration, causing me to remember Ford’s prior film The Quiet Man (1952), and John Wayne’s equally abusive relationship that was meant to come across as innocuous. For whatever reason, after this slap, Mary starts talking to him, and thus begins a really annoying relationship where the two are chronically screaming at one another in a way that I suppose was meant to be playful and cute, but became near insufferable by the tail end of the film; that is until Mary’s passing, which again, seems drawn exactly from Goodbye, Mr. Chips (along with the child’s death). The fact that this is a true story makes the similarities all the more strange… As opens the film so closes it, with Marty petitioning the President of the United States to let him remain at the academy in his old age, who I assume is meant to be Eisenhower (who graduated from West Point and was president during this filming), though we never see who it is. The government lets him stay, and so the students put on a grand show for Marty - reminiscent of Mr. Holland’s Opus’ closing scene where his present and former students finally play his composition. In this case the students march for him, in perfect formation, and for some reason Marty begins having hallucinations of Mary and his father standing before his home. It’s a very odd scene, nearly destroying all the emotion as it’s clear that they were inserting shots that simply didn’t match. I’m not sure what the point was here that wasn’t already known or imagined by the audience. The film contains other flaws, chiefly in one of the most bizarre moments when a man who is clearly about 45 years, with a barrage of wrinkles and thinning hair, is confronted by Marty for making some incendiary remarks. Turns out the guy was plaing the youngest governor of New York at the time who was 22 years old. I’m not sure if this was one of Ford’s investors or good buddies or what, but the fact that we’ve spent time with all these soldiers who’re 18 years old, and that this old middle aged man was supposed to be only four years their senior left me rewinding the movie to make sure I heard it right. Even worse, is that some of the cadets who were clearly pushing middle age, such Chuck Dotson (Philip Carey) who was 30 years old at the time production, were meant to play an 18 year. So the old people are meant to be young, and the young are meant to be old and the entire thing really pulls you out of the movie, as so few look the age they are to the point of distraction. Nevertheless, to get a glimpse into the life into this prestigious world was awesome to see, especially with Charles Lang’s incredible technicolor photography. I would love to check it out again, hopefully getting hold of a high def version. While the story often focused far too much on uninterest relationships (I haven’t even mentioned the father for this exact reason), it does contain some fascinating moments about the institution’s tradition of honor and code. BELOW: Not much on YouTube, but here's a bunch of short clips that show how beautiful this movie is Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of cinema's best slimy celebrity characters Director: Federico Fellini Writer: Federico Fellini, Tullio Pinelli, and Ennio Flaiano; Story by Michelangelo Antonioni, Federico Fellini, Tullio Pinelli Cinematographer: Arturo Gallea Producer: Luigi Rovere by Jon Cvack With a signature magical realism style that would carry on throughout most of Fellini's major works, it’s no surprise that his first film would contain the same elements. It was the director’s solo feature debut, having co-directed Variety Lights with Alberto Lattuada two years prior, and for a debut, it’s no wonder that Fellini would rocket to the top of world cinema. It’s a lean 86 minute film that cuts straight to the good stuff and doesn’t relent until the very last minute; full of all the memorable characters you’d expect from Fellini - even Giulietta Masina. The story involves newlywed couple Wanda (Brunella Bovo) and Ivan (Leopold Trieste) who arrive in Rome to celebrate their honeymoon. Ivan’s family then comes arrives in town the next day in order to meet the new bride. Ivan is an anxious and high-strung man, clearly out of Wanda’s league and all them more anxious because of it. He likes to keep a tight control on things, planning out each day to the hour. Obsessed with “The White Sheik” soap opera photo story (think a comic book that uses actual photographs), specifically the title character. When The White Sheik arrives in town for the latest production, Wanda convinces Ivan to run her a bath, which she then ditches to go and try and meet her obsession. Her journey is successful, as she’s taken away with the wild and magical production and they head to the beach in order to shoot the story’s latest installment. As Fellini does best, we get to watch as these fascinating characters operate behind the scenes, with their temperaments and colorful personalities creating chaos, shining in each and every moment. Eventually Wanda is able to meet The White Sheik (Alberto Sordi), discovering a towering and lecherous man who’s anxious to seduce his newfound superfan. Soon the two end up alone on a boat, where Wanda gets to see her celebrity crush as the scumbag he really is. She quickly leaves the production, begrimed and embarrassed, attempting to kill herself and ending up in a mental institution. Meanwhile, Ivan does all he can to try and find her, finding a mistakenly suggestive letter to the “White Sheik”, ending up at the police who offer little help. His parents arrive the next day to meet the bride, forcing Ivan to create every excuse in the book in order to prevent embarrassment; made all the worse by his family’s piety and determination to see the pope before they leave. Looking at the trivia, it turns out that Woody Allen’s recent 2012 To Rome With Love stole this exact plot line. The White Sheik is a perfect romantic comedy, offering all you’d want from the master, balancing irreverent humor with great heart. From the leads to the minute supporting roles, each character in White Sheik is memorable, with Leopoldo Trieste stealing the entire show; possessing a magnificent ability to play such a goofy role with such heart, as each new scene punches his personality up just a little bit more than before. It’s a funny and fast film. BELOW: No subtitles, but with Fellini you don't need them Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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