 In Wilder's case - go anamorphic for comedy Director: Billy Wilder Writer: I. A. L. Diamond and Billy Wilder Cinematographer: Daniel L. Fapp Producer: Billy Wilder by Jon Cvack I somehow once started this film awhile back, though for whatever reason I never finished it. I’m not entirely sure why that was. I recalled the oddity in having the film integrate the actual Coca-Cola brand in such a politically charged satire, and that it was the perfect type of role for James Cagney. As I round Billy Wilder’s filmography, I’m left in awe of the range the man had - up there with Kubrick and Spielberg in exploring close to the full genre spectrum, with Wilder returning most to comedy the way that Spielberg did with action-adventure. One, Two, Three is about a Coca-Cola executive C.R. "Mac" MacNamara (James Cagney), hungry to become the head of the Western European division, though currently serving in West Berlin, hundreds of feet away from the divide. Mac’s assisted by Schlemmer (Hanns Lothar), who can’t seem to shake snapping his boots together like his former Nazi self after every single delegation, and his gorgeous secretary/paramour Fräulein Ingeborg (Liselotte Pulver) who’s character and purpose provides some of the film’s most cringey moments. This all goes on while Mac’s wife Phyllis (Arlene Francis) cares for the two children, hoping that Mac could take a transfer back to Atlanta, even if it means giving up his climb up the ladder. Feeling a promotion is around the corner, Mac’s boss W.P. Hazeltine (Howard St. John) calls to let Mac know that his 17 year old daughter Scarlett (Pamela Tiffin) is coming to town and will need a bit of supervision. Mac reluctantly agrees, greets her at the airport, and more or less forgets about the task as he tries to close a deal with some Russian officials, knowing how much business a deal with the Soviet Union could bring in. Mac’s negligence soon leads Scarlett to go missing for two weeks, returning married to a dreamy firebrand socialist Otto Ludwig Piffl (Horst Buchholz) who’s in love with Scarlett as much as overthrowing capitalism and scolding Mac’s ethics. The couple is now determined to return to Moscow and start a family. Sure enough, H.P. then calls to reveal that he’s coming to town the next day to visit Scarlett and check on business. Thus begins a comedy of errors as Mac attempts to preserve the deal with Russia while getting them to hand over Otto, who Mac then tries to turn into a capitalist in rushed time, making him over and providing him with an executive position; all while Mac’s wife decides to take the kids and return back to the states. This was the third film Wilder made after Some Like It Hot (1959) and his second after The Apartment (1960). It’s a good film, but what feels like a story that’s going to ascend into some grand political thrilling comedy, levels out with fierce, though entertaining, banter between the socialist and capitalist. In a couple of behind the scene videos extras included on the disc, Wilder mentioned how he never wanted to make anything overtly political throughout his career. I’m not positive whether he thought this film was exempt from that philosophy, but even if it was one could argue it’s simply an outsider’s look at politics, rather than promoting any particular point of view. Throughout the film, the socialist seems just as selfish and narrow minded as the capitalist. Even the ending, in which we see Mac successfully pull off the gag of Otto’s descent from royalty and that Otto learns to love the fruits and power of wealth, Wilder goes one step further, having H.P. offer Otto the Head of Western Division Header Quarters; leaving Mac nothing more to do than return to his wife and kids, which seems like a healthy thing to do, but then you’re wondering if Otto wasn’t provided the position, whether Mac would’ve just as easily let them go back to Georgia. Such is the genius of Billy Wilder. Looking through his filmography, it’s astonishing how much range he had. It makes little sense to me how Frank Capra and John Ford hold such distinction in American cinema’s history. Billy Wilder is amongst the greatest in world cinema from the period - joining the ranks of Ozu, Kurosawa, Bergman, and Fellini - and arguably one of the top ten greatest filmmakers in all of cinematic history (a list I’ll have to actually make). One, Two, Three begins a slow fade out as Wilder never returned to his peak of cinematic prowess. Or in other words, instead of making timeless perfect films he goes on to make just some very good movies. One, Two, Three’s worth it for the performances and photography, which creates ultra wide images for an otherwise simple setting; demonstrating Wilder’s leverage when today’s world would never call for such extravagant design. There isn’t a particular morality to the story, and while I want to say it’s cynical, it plays more like warning against taking oneself too seriously. We’ve satirized our politicians in every way possible over the last few decades - from the idealism of "The West Wing" to the farce of "Veep" - but it’s long past due to take a look at the firebrands who elect the candidates and how silly some ideas can be. BELOW: Meeting some commies Like what you read? 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 Tragically underrated Director: Satyajit Ray Writer: Satyajit Ray Cinematographer: Subrata Mitra Producer: R. D. Banshal and Sharankumari Bansal by Jon Cvack Every time I arrive at a Satyajit Ray film, I’m expecting it to provide that traditional art house experience in which you find yourself saying it’s good, but will probably never watch it again and then it finishes and I’m blown away by the picture. Similar to Ramin Bahrani, the plots often sound so simple, in this case a movie star on a long train ride interviews an attractive journalist, recounting his rise to fame while surrounded by a unique and thrilling supporting cast, including a slimy Bollywood producer; a frail young girl with tuberculosis who shares the train compartment with the movie star; and the journalist’s colleagues who’re hungry for the juicy details. The first films that come to mind is 8 ½ (1963) and Stardust Memories (1980); both which examine the artist’s personal struggle with success. The further along I get in my career, the more I’m in awe that anyone my age could achieve vast success with storytelling as it remains such an elusive and seeming impossible feat, leaving me to wonder how success would affect my ego; whether I’d further isolate myself, forever fearful of the impostor syndrome, or attempt to navigate the upper echelons in order to see how much further the career could go. Actors have an additional complication in that the very nature of their pursuit is a desire for the audience and their praise and/or the unwavering desire to imagine and play (perhaps similar to writers). Screen star Arindam Mukherjee (Uttam Kumar) is invited to Delhi to accept a prestigious award for his achievements in acting, but with all flights booked, he is forced to take the train. There he meets a young and attractive journalist Aditi Sengupta (Sharmila Tagore) who conjoles him into an interview where Arindam opens up about his rise, insecurity, and personal corruption. Arindom’s career began by ignoring his mentor’s caution against entering into film acting in which the performer is forced to abandon the very connection they form with the audience. The theater allows the performer to embody the role rather than shooting it in fragments. Arindom arrives on his first to big film set to find his idol and one of Bollywood’s finest actors excoriate his performance in front of the entire cast and crew; castigating him for delivering the lines improperly and forcing Arindom to question his decision to enter film. Soon the Bollywood star’s career dries up and he becomes an alcoholic, leaving him broke, alone, and depressed. Meanwhile, Arindom has increasingly turned to drugs, alcohol, and women as the fame increasingly smothers him. Throughout the few days' train ride, he has nightmares, including one dream with an incredible set piece in which Arindom wanders around giant hills of cash money, soon chased by hands that reach up to grab him. Throughout the story, Ray provides us with one of the more memorable insights into fame and its corrupting potential. If one is alone on the way up, there are few to turn to and trust; everyone has a project or need, the pressure mounts, the temptation to take uninspired, well paid roles expands, and soon the fulfillment that art provided evaporates; in which the performer serves as nothing more than product. Nayak is another film that demonstrates the inherent bigotry of western cinema and its history. Recently, I read Edward Said’s The Question of Palestine (1979), where Said discusses the long history of how westerners regard all things eastern - whether culture, politics, or religion - as inferior; creating a blatantly racist outlook, or at best, an indifference or apathy. Compared to his predominantly white peers, aside from the Apu trilogy, Satyajit Ray’s work has received little attention; reserved for the most obscure of cinephile lists. I was particularly to have never heard of this film, given how many “movies about movies” I’ve come across. It’s a story up there with the best of them in providing an honest portrait about the industry; not speaking in esoteric terms, but allowing the viewer to observe the performance from either side, whether as Arindom’s and the bitterness he’s developed or the curiosity of an outsider like Aditi. Somehow avoiding sentimentality, we believe that Arindom could’ve been happier with more modest life with Aditi, and he gets off the train; in a brilliant shot, as the fans gather at the stop, pounding on the glass while Arindom continues their conversation, to later get off, back into a world completely devoid of anonymity, surrounded by people who want little beyond a chance to say they met or talked to someone famous; no matter whether it was him or his old washed up colleague from yesteryear. BELOW: A fantastic dream sequence Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Not sure what really happened, but it sure was fun to look at Director: Akira Kurosawa Writer: Hideo Oguni, Eijirō Hisaita, Akira Kurosawa, Ryūzō Kikushima, and Shinobu Hashimoto Cinematographer: Yuzuru Aizawa Producer: Akira Kurosawa and Tomoyuki Tanaka by Jon Cvack This is one of the few times I’ve watched a movie twice in a row in order to grasp its details. I was on a week of early call time production, putting this on at 5am when my mind just couldn’t possibly follow the details. Watching it again, I was less than certain of how the puzzle all fit together. Due to work, it then took me about two weeks to get to writing about this so I’ll be leaning on Wikipedia more than a bit. The story is a corporate espionage thriller, opening at a Godfather style wedding; in which mega corporation Public Corpo’s* Vice President Iwabuchi’s (Masayuki Mori) crippled and average daughter Yoshiki (Kyōko Kagawa) is getting married to the President’s handsome secretary Kōichi Nishi(Toshiro Mifune). Recently, one of their co-workers Assistant Chief Furuya had allegedly committed suicide by jumping out the top floor window; that, or maybe he was pushed. Either way, given the recent tragedy, it doesn’t seem exactly aboveboard. The most memorable part of these scenes are the News Reporters who follow the action while narrating what’s going on. It reminds of Shakespeare without any specific play in mind; making me think it was Kurosawa simply taking influence and creating his own way of immersing us within the story. I thought of how else the situation could be explained without long draining conversations that talked in circles in order to convey details; that or a title card that simply threw us in. I struggle to think of another film that has done something this interesting; in which we follow a band of characters as they narrate the set up to the film. The wedding ends when a mysterious cake in the shape of the building and the man who fell rolls out. Speeches are given by both various men; with Yoshiki’s brother declaring that if Nishi’s intentions are anything short of honorable he’s going to kill him. The News Men provide just enough humor to prevent the situation from becoming too heavy. The police then arrive and arrest a middle management corporate assistant officer Wada (Kamatari Fujiwara) for bribery; learning that word of the suicide put to rest rumors about the company’s finances. Why did Chief Furuya kill himself, or was he murdered? I’m still unclear, though I know it’s in there. Days after the wedding the police talk to one of the accountants at Public Corp name Miuna who’s so spooked out by the consequences that he throws himself in front of a car. Wada then heads to a Volcano in order to end his own life; shot in a dystopic scene where smoke billows from jagged crevices. In the wonderful series included on most Criterion Kurosawa films “Isn’t it Wonderful to Create!” - which is essentially a fifty minute documentary on the making of most of his major films - they mention how Kurosawa demanded they add as much smoke as possible; even though there was already actual volcano smoke rising up; going through hundreds of barrels of smoke in order to enhance the effect. He’s stopped by Nishi (the recent groom), who demands Wada stay alive in order to gain revenge on the company; learning that while the men like Minua and Furuyua killed themselves out of their own volition, it was also due to feeling unwavering commitment to the company’s welfare. They were loyal bureaucrats who had lost all sense of self; serving entirely for the company that views them as dispensable. Nishi then turns to the contract officer Shirai (Ko Nishimura), setting him up to look like a thief to both Iwabuchi and Moriyama. Later Shirai reveals that he was the illegitimate son of Furuya and is determined to avenge his father’s death. Intimidated by Nishi and his besmirching antics, Shirai slowly unwinds before going completely insane. Moriyama soon suspects that someone connected to Furuyua is operating behind the scenes to manipulate Shira and others; telling Iwabuchi (again, the brother of the recent bride Yoshiki) that he’s going to avenge his sister’s honor, attempting to kill Nishi. As the double dealing and manipulation spiral out of control, I quickly got lost in the web; partially due to Kurosawa’s gorgeous framing techniques. One scene involves Nishi and Shirai in the car, utilizing what Kurosawa described as Deep Focus to maintain all of the elements of the frame. What’s odd is that to achieve such a thing typically requires a wide lens that make the subjects in the foreground smaller and yet someone the shot looks like a medium and yet it preserves the focus; making me think Kurosawa moved the subjects closer to the car and place the camera as closely as possible to the subjects. Added was that it was supposed to be raining and, again, the art director had to explain that he couldn’t achieve Kurosawa’s vision; never an easy conversation to have as I’ve heard in most of these docs. If I remember correctly, it actually was a lighting problem, as they couldn’t get enough light to get the outside subjects in focus; which then exceeds my understanding of photography. Reading the remaining synopsis, I realize I’d be left simply reciting the Wikipedia page, as the plot grows so complex that I’m more in awe of how the script was written. Essentially, Nishi soon mentioned in the documentary was the team of a half dozen or so writers who would essentially divide up the labor; often butting heads with Kurosawa who demanded the story go in a different direction. As a result, the complexity diminishes the story, as it’s so confusing that you essentially have to avoid being in awe of Kurosawa’s gorgeous imagery and the cast’s phenomenal performances all distracted me from properly following the narrative; even after a back to back viewing. It’s this exact style that embodies the world it’s portraying. The film was based on some big business corruption taking place in Japan around the same time; something I imagine wouldn’t make national headlines in our own country. The story explores the dangers of committing loyalty to causes that reciprocates nothing. As of writing this, Trump’s former senior campaign chairman Paul Manafort has agreed to “fully cooperate” with the Mueller investigation. His connections include being present at the Trump tower meeting; changing the official RNC platform against arming Ukraine with weapons to fight against Russia; and connections to both the Russian oligarchy, intelligence officers, and potentially mafia members. Listening to Meet the Press on the way up to a drop off, one of the guests mentions that Trump’s biggest downfall could very well be his demand of full loyalty from those closest to him while providing none in return. The idea is Shakespearean in nature; an idea I’m sure would fascinate Kurosawa; demonstrating that powerful people being fully corrupted knows no particular age or time. It will remain with humanity forever. The Bad Sleep Well explores a similar idea; in which company bureaucrats devote themselves entirely to a cause, going so far as to die for it, when the business views them as nothing more than replaceables cogs. The nebulous titles indicate such - administrative officer, contract officer, accountant; titles that aren’t just meaningless in name but sound absolutely banal; as though the only meaning these individuals received in life was to commit themselves to a cause. Each documentary on the Criterion discs open with Kurosawa signing a photo at the bottom, writing, “Isn’t it fun to create!” As demanding as he might have been, everyone interviewed appears to fully comprehend that the art they created is some of the best in cinematic history; respecting and honoring the man who pushed them to best of their abilities.The saddest part about The Bad Sleep Well is that none of the characters appear to feel anywhere close to that sense of accomplishment or creation. *For some reason Wikipedia has this as Unexploited Land Development Corporation; while Criterion had it translated as Public Corp. I prefer the latter, but I wonder where the Wikipedia person heard the phrase BELOW: You don't realize how awesome this scene is until you're in a movie theater with hundreds of others Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Surrealism done right Director: John Frankenheimer Writer: Lewis John Carlino; based on the book Seconds by David Ely Cinematographer: James Wong Howe Producer: Edward Lewis by Jon Cvack I’ve had this movie in my queue for at least six years now; one of those films that sounded fascinating but would always get bumped down, until suddenly it was next in line and nothing was deserving enough to replace it. The film is a black and white art house sci-fi film made by John Frankenheimer; who while providing a barrage of fantastic movie (the suspense thriller The Manchurian Candidate (1962), one of the best WWII epic action adventures The Train (1964), and 1998’s Ronin with Robert de Niro) but never ventured quite so close into the art house. Most comparable to The Game (1997), the story involves Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph) who’s banal life comes to a crossroads when he’s contacted by a strange organization called “The Company” which promises to decrease his age by half and make him into an attractive and successful artist. Arthur agrees, abandoning his wife and all the life they created in order to start anew. It provides the most heartbreaking scene of the film as his wife and Arthur sit in their bedroom after Arthur gets home from work. They sit in separate beds, not speaking, with cinematographer James Wong Howe using a fish eye wide positioned at the top of the room, making the relationship feel all the more empty. The awkwardness enhanced when the wife tries to seduce Arthur who no longer finds her attractive. The story opens with the operation, in which Frankenheimer films an actual nasal plastic surgery. We watch strings and needles enter into and out of a person’s nose as they get sewn up; allegedly so grotesque that some of the audience at Cannes walked out. Later Arthur goes in for his operation, meeting the mayor from Jaws (1975), Charlie (Murray Hamilton), who guides Arthur through an incredible surrealistic* scene as he undergoes the transformation; resurrecting as painter Antiochus “Tony” Wilson (Rock Hudson) whose house is on the Malibu coast where an Old Man (Will Geer) operates as both butler and his liaison to The Company. Tony has all the skills of a successful painter, along with the wealth and charm to host large parties and attract beautiful women. He meets the mysterious Nora Marcus (Salome Jens) on the beach who takes him up to a hippie commune up in Santa Barbara where the members mash grapes and have sex. Later at a party, Antiochus drinks too much and embarrasses himself, fighting with his guests and Nora. He requests that the Old Man demand The Company return him to his prior life. He again meets Charlie who tells him he too is being reborn once again, however, instead of Tony being reborn, he’s killed in order to provide another empty shell for Charlie. Middle Class Angst Films were some of the most effective in piquing my initial interest in film. Movies like American Beauty (1999), The Chumscrubber (2005), The Ice Storm (1997), In the Bedroom (2001), SubUrbia (1996), and others are some of the earliest moments I recall of connecting art to my own experiences. There’s a strange bell curve in that you initially feel alienated in your home town, which then becomes part of the mainstream fringe, as its the same feeling that brought everyone out here - the way Hot Topic caters to this alienated fringe while being part of the mainstream consumer culture. The process then weeds people out, as some grow out of the feeling, others fail to escape, and few make the move to do something about it. I recall the foolish pride I had in telling people I was studying film when in college; as so many others were doing such boring things. Nearly a decade later, I’m left thinking of a quote I read in Movie Maker in that you better love film with all of your heart to have any success, because it’s that passion which drives the competition. I love it with all my heart and am miles from where I hope to be at the time of writing this; feeling the gradual progress, literally what feels like a nail’s rate of growth. But it is advancing. To think of how easy it would have been for me to stay back and pursue Construction Management (a random major I selected after discovering my mind was incompatible with the math/science rigors of engineering); have a great house, maybe live in the city, have an interesting and pretty wife (these adjectives are deliberately generic), and perhaps, by now, a child. Given that I’m not perfectly content now, I often wonder if - discontent being omniscient - whether it might have been worth the annoying struggle. When I go home, it’s seeing the forest for the trees. Which means the discontent is therefore inevitable and it’s better to at least be making inch by inch strides toward what you hope to achieve. Tony wanted it all without the effort and heart; that is, the idea of what provides a meaningful life rather than locating that meaning himself. On The Ezra Klein Show's "Is Modern Society Making Us Depressed?" - Ezra debated with a psychologist Johann Hari who believes that it’s the market driven system itself that makes people depressed; as there are few indications that it’s entirely or a dominantly chemical imbalance.The man gave the example of the ubiquitous problem of everyone believing that buying more stuff provides happiness, giving the example of a man who hated his job, but wanted a new garage so bad that he put off switching careers for another few years to save up. The extreme example is being so overridden with car payments, mortgages, children, and all the other expenses that escapes becomes next to impossible. Ezra had a different perspective - wondering if it’s within our genetics to always want more than we can have, and that this desire drives us toward progress. While I side more with the guest, it does make me wonder - is it culture and social media specifically, in which everyone is sharing the best version of their lives making the viewer feel inadequate; that’s driving record levels of depression, anxiety, and suicide; growing inequality and job insecurity, or is it simply genetic? I’m sure it’s a combination of all three. Arthur/Tony deals with the perpetual dissatisfaction; gaining first hand experience in the grass always being greener. Look up Antiochus on Wikipedia, I see the name means “God Manifest”, stemming from Antiochus IV Epiphanes who was a Greek King around 175 B.C.; gaining the nickname “The Mad One” for his weird behavior. I’m not a big fan of dissecting names and trying to learn what it means, but this one’s peculiar enough, and clear enough to understand. Arthur’s life in many ways mirrored a king, dominating the marketplace and creating a good life; willing to abandon it all in order to buy himself an alternative and allegedly more satisfying life. Ultimately, it’s the same money that kills him; in that I can only surmise that Charlie was so envious of Tony, that he was willing to buy the boy at the cost of a man’s life. That’s how much these individuals are determined to transform their lives. To think they have enough money for anything they want, they then decide to spend it on destroying the life that allowed them to make such a purchase. That’s the great madness; something we all might face, if we all could achieve our dreams or have endless time to do so. *For anyone wondering about other thoughts on surrealism, when done well - like in this film or The Sopranos - it can offer incredible sequences. BELOW: The infamous opening that caused walk outs at the 1966 Cannes Film Festival Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Proving Jean-Pierre Léaud didn't always look like an asshole Director: François Truffaut Writer: François Truffaut Cinematographer: Raoul Coutard Producer: Pierre Roustang by Jon Cvack This rounds out the Antoine Doinel series for me. Here’s the ranking:
Antoine and Colette is a thirty minute short film, shot three years after The 400 Blows. For those who don’t remember (as I didn’t), The 400 Blows finishes with a freeze frame of Antoine on the beach after having escaped the boys home where his parents left him. In Antoine and Colette, he’s back on the Paris streets, now working at record store and living on his own. At a concert, he sets eyes on a student Colette (Marie-France Pisier) and falls in love, attempting to court her. When she invites Antoine back home to her parent’s house, Antoine discovers a loving family who accept him as though a second child much to Colette’s disagreement who was hoping for a more rebellious dynamic and preventing the relationship from going any further. Antoine refuses to give up, going so far as to move across the street, which pleases the parents, but further alienates Colette. In the end, her parents invite Antoine over once again for dinner and television. As dinner wraps, Antoine’s friend arrives to take Colette out (he also appeared in The 400 Blows; who helped coordinate the typewriter theft). Contrary to the three sequels following, Antoine and Colette maintains the gritty realism with just a dollop of quirkiness which defined the first film. The series would go on to flip the formula, playing as Wes Anderson-lite for Bed and Board, Stolen Kisses, culminating in a clip show for Love on the Run (though exploring some interesting ideas about memory). Rooted in reality, Antoine and Colette captures early infatuations, in which there’s no basis for love beyond the physical; not that anyone’s ever aware until long after it’s past. Additionally, counter to the other four films of the series Antoine is actually a pretty decent person in this film, as though the calm before the storm before he’d go on to develop his complete selfish desire. I’m not a big fan of short films, as they often either play far too slow, or rely far too heavily a twist (either superficial or moral), but this film is one of the better ones. It offers a slice of life; giving us a taste of authentic 1960s Parisian streets; providing what any great film captures in documenting a specific place at a specific time. It’s the perfect length; explored in ways memories pass; serving as nothing more than fragments which race by. I think I’d consider a film like this a feature; containing all the heart of a similar story three times its length. BELOW: A new wave cringe Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Ken Annakin Writer: Bernard Gordon, John Melson, Milton Sperling, and Philip Yordan Cinematographer: Jack Hildyard Producer: Sidney Harmon, Milton Sperling, Philip Yordan, and Dino De Laurentiis by Jon Cvack Similar to good popular 90s films, I’ve coming to the bottom of the bucket in terms of the Epic World War 2 action films produced from the 50s through the 70s. A Bridge Too Far (1945), The Longest Day (1962), Van Ryan’s Express (1965), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970) all utilized grand set pieces, with countless numbers of tanks, planes, and soldiers packed into every scene. Where Eagles Dare (1968) was the last one I watched, and while not perfect, the closing sequence is one of the most incredible action scenes ever created. It’s watching these films that you realize how inferior modern VFX are by comparison, and why a film like Dunkirk (2017) is a far more powerful cinematic experience than cramming each action sequence in with as much computer graphics as possible. Battle of the Bulge is directed by the same Ken Annakin who gave us The Longest Day; with this one in color (I was expecting black and white) and one of the few films from the sub-genre I’ve seen on Blu-Ray. Not knowing a thing about the film (beyond the obvious), an Overture kicks off and the credits begin to roll. In grand cinemascope, flying above the skies of the Ardennes Forest, we meet Lt. Colonel Daniel Kiley (Henry Fonda) and his pilot on a reconnaissance mission, eventually flying overhead of who would become Kiley’s primary villain, Nazi Colonel Martin Hessler (Robert Shaw). At the time, Allied forces had assumed the worst was behind them, and that Nazi Germany would fall in a matter of months. Kiley is convinced otherwise; believing that a massive force was hiding in the Ardennes; the place where Hessler is headed. There he meets his superior, General Kohler (Werner Peters), who walks him through an incredible series of corridors and rooms, showing everything from a mini-cooper sized Panzer tank model, to a war room with an ornate switchboard, helping them to coordinate their every move while walking us through the story. One of the best description for movies such as Volcano (1997), Twister (1996), 2012 (2009), San Andreas (2015), etc. is Disaster Porn. While I’ll stick to Epic World War 2 Action Movies, you could easily call this War Porn, as the film glorifies all manner of machines, vehicles, and guns. As a kid, this is the type of action film that’d make me jump from my seat, grab my toy weapons cache, and go play war in the backyard for a couple hours until I tired myself out and needed another dose of inspiration. Kiley admonishes his superiors officers of the suspected attack, including an old friend Gen. Grey (Robert Ryan) who while wanting to believe him, just can’t take the risk rolling out such a significant number of troops in preparation. Kiley remains committed, heading to the Siegfried Line front where he meets a battle hardened crew watching the Germans not more than a quarter mile away, led by Major Wolenski (Charles Bronson). Back in the German barracks, Hessler is put in command of a Panzer division; however, with Germany having taken on such large casualties, he’s left with only young boys fresh from the academy with little to no battle experience, determined to demonstrate their courage. Kiley then takes another reconnaissance flight, flying beneath the fog to discover the Panzer division which then shoots Kiley and his pilot down, though before he forwards the message. To complicate matters, German Command has sent in American-sounding GI’s to help sabotage the response. The tanks open at the Schnee Eifel, obliterating American forces, and forcing them into retreat. So begins the battle that defines any Epic World War 2 film in which hundreds of war machines and soldiers fight for the remaining hour, culminating in one of the most impressive final sequences I’ve seen from the genre (and any action film overall) in which dozens upon dozens of full scale tanks battle across the fields; duking it out across acres and acres of land, using trenches to gain advantage. Soon it ends up at a fuel station where hundreds and hundreds of 50-gallon drums of gas are stacked high in all directions, which you know is going to be the end Hessler. Once again you’re left desiring a return to this type of filmmaking, in which what you’re seeing - from the characters to the machinery - is entirely real. The closing sequence was so awesome in the truest sense of the word that you grow saddened by the thought that the thought that the visual arts have actually devolved. The Battle of the Bulge is not the best from the subgenre, but like Where Eagles Dare, the action and characters more than make up for it. Robert Shaw, Peter Fonda, and Charles Bronson are all fantastic; with Shaw serving as the star of the show, as even though Jaws is my favorite movie of all time, I neither knew he was English or ever played a German Nazi. While there’s not as much snow as you expect, it’s a fun film. BELOW: Robert Shaw plays one heck of a Nazi Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Would go on to influence Tim Burton's Batman Director: William Castle Writer: Ray Russell Producer: William Castle Cinematographer: Burnett Guffey by Jon Cvack Taking place in the 1800s, Mr. Sardonicus follows London Physician Sir Robert Cargrave (Ronald Lewis) who visits Baron Sardonicus (Guy Rolfe) who lives in a castle far in the middle of nowhere at the urging of his ex-girlfriend who believes that Sardonicus is veering toward unethical medical practices. At the castle, we meet the film’s greatest performer and arguably the greatest scary movie henchman of all time Krull (Oskar Homolka), whose eye is sealed shut by an nauseating flap of skip that connects his top and bottom lids. Looking up his bio, Homolka never did much more than B and C-level movies, though beyond the screen he was a renowned Shakespearean actor in German theater. The film is worth watching for this performance alone. Oskar is creepy and unnerving while conveying a tremendous amount of foreboding death as he struggles with his master’s terrifying surgeries. Arriving at the castle, Cargrave discovers Krull torturing one the servant girls by sticking leeches in her face, which look real enough to give you goosebumps. Cargrave goes on to meet Sardonicus, who he discovers has a terrifying and permanent grin strewn across his face. Sardonicus explains how he developed the deformity, in which having grown up little with his parents both working long and hard hours, his dad had one day bought a lottery ticket and won, then had a heart attack and dying, accidentally buried with the winning ticket. Sardonicus’ wife urged him to open the casket in order to retrieve the ticket. Sardonicus eventually acquiesced, digging up his father’s grave, opening the casket, and discovering his father’s grinning skull, forcing the same grin onto Sardonicus’ face forever since. Sardonicus has thus been on a mission to cure his deformity, experimenting on his servants - including with leeches - to try and fix the problem. Unable to discover any solutions, Sardonicus has called on Cargrave and his expertise to fix the problem. Cargrave tries and fails, which drives Sardonicus mad. From there the film involves a brilliant play by both Cargrave and Krull as they learn that perhaps Sardonicus’ ailment is much more in his mind than anything physical; that in a quest for money, even if disrupting his father’s grave, Sardonicus might have responded to the terror of seeing his father’s skull with such a large smile on his face due to his own appetite for the money and power, knowing that what made his father smile was the potential immediate transformation of life, no different than Sardonicus’. To think that he might have lived a normal, though poor life if he disregarded the idea is something that’s stuck with me for days after. The makeup is so good and the performances so strong and the story so bizarre that the film is far above any B-Movie designation I think it’d receive. Aside from Psycho (1960) in the year prior, I can’t find many films better than Mr. Sardonicus within a five year or so period that stand up. It’s the exact type of film you hope for when picturing an old black and white horror film taking place in a castle. The images stick with you long after. A testament to how strong of a horror film it is. BELOW: Heck of an intro Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Tom Poston - a charming everyman who never got much play Director: William Castle Writer: William Castle; remake of The Old Dark House (1932; James Whale); based on Benighted (1927 novel) by J. B. Priestley Cinematographer: Arthur Grant Producer: William Castle and Anthony Hinds by Jon Cvack I don’t know much about Roger Corman or William Castle, but it seems to be that William Castle is the Dante’s Peak to Corman’s Volcano, or the poor man’s Hitchcock. I’ve been meaning to check out a few of his films, but - as I discussed in The Masque of Red Death (1964) and The Man They Couldn’t Hang (1939) - given how bland some of the Corman films were from the period, I had put off dumping them into my queue, and while I’m a bit disappointed I took so long, I also think the delay might have worked out, as a recent interest in older films over the last few years has allowed me to appreciate even the campiest of films and the ways they often tried to push the boundaries during the Code Era. The Old Dark House - a remake of the 1932 film with Boris Karloff - stars Tom Poston, who aside from Christmas with the Kranks (2004) and the fifth Beethoven movie (2003), hasn’t been in all that much and yet possesses such an everyman charm to him, veering between car salesman Tom Penderel in this film to Linguistic Professor Jonathan Jones in another William Castle horror collaboration Zotz! (1962). With an aloof look and endearing innocence, Poston has that rare ability to make you feel like he could be your neighbor or colleague, leaving me surprised and finding it a bit tragic that he didn’t find much success. Penderel has recently sold a Rolls Royce to his friend Casper Jemm (Peter Bull) who’s instructed Tom to drop the car off at his creepy mansion. However, upon arriving at the mansion, he discovers Casper dead and meets his strange and eccentric family, including his twin brother Jasper. When a terrible rainstorm rolls in, the family offers Tom a room for the night and so begins a bizarre murder-comedy story, which while far being perfect, is a bunch of fun. We learn that each of the relatives is required to remain in the mansion each and every night, as per the terms of an ancestor’s will, anyone who refuses to honor this requirement forfeits their shares. As a result many of the siblings have lived there for years. Yet with Casper’s recent passing, the night brings a killer to the house, claiming a victim per hour through exciting and bizarre murders, before resulting in a classic bomb-defusal scene, which while completely out of left field, works with the comedic undertones. It’s not a perfect film, but for going in expecting a dull and uninspired story, I was pleasantly surprised. BELOW: A short doc on William Castle Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Short, sweet, and eerie Counter to The Masque of Red Death I knew that this film was written by Edgar Allen Poe. And while the photography was the same bland crap found in that film, the story was easy enough to follow to avoid explaining small details in a boring way. It involves a wealthy man, Guy Carrell (Ray Milland), who has an overwhelming fear of being buried alive; what is called vivisepulture when I was seeing if there was a word for it. Guy also has a cataleptic disorder in which, like his father, he can faint and appear dead, even though he’s not. He often recalls his father’s funeral where he swore to have heard his father screaming from his tomb, who allegedly died for other reasons. After his wedding day, Guy faints while listening to his wife play the piano, growing even more paranoid about being buried alive, leading him on an obsessive mission to construct a foolproof chamber vault that provides him all chance of escape, including a collapsible coffin, ladder through the chimney, and even with a poisonous elixir, if all else fails. The end is so great that it’s best to stop and avoid risking spoilers, as even early M. Knight Shyamalan would be proud. It all pieces together into a great classic tale of terror - providing the rare occasion of a film meeting the exact definition of that general phrase and explaining why the double feature was rated so high. It provided everything you’d want from a Poe story, even matching well with the photography’s limitations. There’s nothing more to say beyond the experience of watching it. It’s a perfect film for any small Halloween party that’s serving cocktails. BELOW: An early Boris Karloff adaptation Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  As usual with Corman films - the synopsis is far more enticing than the experience Director: Roger Corman Writer: Charles Beaumont and R. Wright Campbell; based on The Masque of the Red Death and "Hop-Frog" by Edgar Allan Poe Producer: Roger Corman and George Willoughby Cinematography: Nicolas Roeg by Jon Cvack The Birds (1963) and a few other films aside, I’m not sure what it is about color horror films from the early to mid-60s that makes them look so boring. Nearly every single time I return to these Vincent Price B-horror films I’m disappointed, hoping for so much more, often with premises that could have made for great material, and yet always possess that flat, bland lighting while it’s black and white peers pushed its style to the limits of creating the atmosphere necessary for any good horror film. I’m fairly certain that color film was more expensive and required more light to shoot in, and with such fast production schedules, there simply wasn’t enough time to light the scenes well. The Masque of the Red Death starts out strong, shot out in the fields surrounding a castle that sits far in the matted distance, with the trees stripped of leaves and a low hanging fog all around. An old woman meets a hooded figure dressed in red from head to toe who gives a woman a white rose which then drips with blood. We then meet Prince Prospero (Vincent Price) who arrives at a village with his guards, discovering the old woman actually has the plague and orderingg the village burned to the ground to avoid its spread, sparing the one attractive girl Francesca (Jane Asher) who he brings back to the castle. There he entertains his cronies with lavish parties and expensive meals, with all the sex and alcohol they could ask for, all while trying to seduce Francesca who later learns Prospero and his friends are Satanists and so begins a strange series of events that I’ll leave you to read the extensive Wikipedia synopsis to discover all of the bizarre story details. Essentially, the Satanists are participating in endless amounts of debauchery while thousands die outside the castle doors, all while this Red Hooded figure is getting closer, before finally getting inside the castle, approaching Prospero, declaring, “Each man creates his own God for himself - His own Heaven, his own Hell”, removing his mask and - SPOILER - revealing himself to be Prospero himself; that is, Prospero is in his own hell, having sold his soul to Satan for a brief life of hedonism that cycles on repeat. The synopsis reads like an incredible story and makes Edgar Allan Poe’s source material that much more clear. Unfortunately, the film someway/somehow buries these exciting ideas. It’s not so much that I didn’t follow them as that I was so bored with how the story looked that I couldn’t pay attention or connect the pieces all that well. Not knowing it was an Poe short story, I thought it involved a shitty Satanist Vincent Prince who eventually faces his sword, with one really cool and terrifying scene of a furry man in a gorilla suit burning alive. The issue is the complete lack of feeling in each and every scene, as though I was watching each person acting rather than experiencing what they feel; either through performance or the design. Reading a more concise breakdown, I see a story about a man driven by greed and lust while thousands of his sick and poor countrymen die outside. Beyond his lust for Francesca, the film never seems to explore what drives Prospero, or the type of pleasure he receives from living out his every desire. BELOW: A far better - and shorter - adaptation 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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