 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? 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 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  How many people can you get into a frame? Director: John Ford, Henry Hathaway, George Marshall Writer: James R. Webb Cinematographer: William Daniels, Milton Krasner, Charles Lang, and Joseph LaShelle Producer: Bernard Smith by Jon Cvack Accompanying the BluRay of this film was a documentary produced by the American Society of Cinematographers exploring the history of Cinerama - a format that recorded via three 35mm film cameras, which when combined, spanned 146 degrees around the handful of theaters equipped to handle it, filling the peripheral vision of its viewers. Many of the subjects equated the format to an early rendition of Virtual Reality. Unfortunately, due to both the production and exhibition technology required, few theaters were able to properly screen the format, while studios were inhibited from producing the content due to the high costs. While most of Cinerama’s productions revolved around adventure and exploration documentaries, exploring everything from Native tribes to the Grand Canyon, there were two narrative films that got made during its brief lifespan - The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm (1962) and How the West Was Won. I had first experienced an HD version of a western after watching both El Dorado (1966) and The Sons of Katie Elder (1966) on Netflix. You can read about either for the details, but for the first time I understood what the filmmakers had achieved, as the remastering looked as though they were shot today. Since seeing those two films, my interest in westerns has grown exponentially, no longer seeing them as the antiquated films they were often broadcasted as, but rather gorgeous works of heart, containing some of cinema’s greatest photography. And with three 35mm cameras capturing three images simultaneously, How the West Was Won is arguably one of the most beautiful films ever created within the genre. I’ve grown more fascinated with the Wild West period. Although it occupies such a tremendous space in our history, it’s actually only defined as existing from 1865-1895; serving as thirty years between the era of moving out west into a relatively lawless and displacing countless Native tribes, and the period when government would situate itself. California wasn’t even a state until 1850, which is only 80 years older than my grandmother; approximately one human lifetime. The wild west embodies the manifest destiny spirit, where through hard work and perseverance, anyone can find success. Nowadays, in an age of rampant social and economic inequality, fewer believe the American Dream is attainable. While there has always been an American aristocracy, a hundred plus years ago there was more land to discover than we could ever imagine; to think Alaska and Hawaii were made into states during my father’s lifetime just goes to show how young the nation truly is. How the West Was Won very much embodies the idea of tabula rasa. The story begins with what Cinerama had been known for - soaring above the earth, capturing epic vista, looking down upon some gorgeous snow-covered Rocky Mountains. Spencer Tracy’s voice over kicks in, explaining that what we’re about to see is a story of America and its expansion. The film opens up strong, with John Ford taking the first chapter, with the camera driving down some busy western street, up to the end of a valley where it looks down upon the river where two old steam ships are pulling into port. We first meet the Prescott family in 1839 who’re making their way down the Ohio River on some makeshift rafts, eventually meeting Linus Rawlings (James Stewart) who’s a fur trader, heading east to Pittsburgh. Although an odd role for Stewart, the character was fascinating, making you wonder about all the mountain men throughout history who journeyed out west on their own, with nothing much beyond the Native Americans and other local cultures to discover. Linus ends up sleeping with one of the Prescott daughters Eve (Carroll Baker) who wishes for him to settle down and marry her, but far from ready, he denies her, continuing on the journey. Soon Linus stops at a riverside trading post where he meets another attractive woman who lures him to the bar for a “show”, discovering the place taken over by a brigand who stabs Linus leaving him to narrowly escapes. He returns to warn the Prescott, when they eventually show up, forcing Linux to kill them. The Prescotts then take off on their rafts, turning down the wrong river and hitting rapids which go on to kill Eve’s parents. The rest of the family then decides to stick around to always be near their bodies and Linus agrees to stay with them. From there the film progresses over fifty years, as industry and business begin making their marks and America descends into Civil War, providing everything you could ask for from a western. The images are so large, with essentially every frame packed with beauty. From the simplest close up to the grand vistas of battlefields and nascent towns and railroad lines, every single image packs in as much to look at as possible, often pulling my attention away from the narrative, in awe of each and every image that came on screen, where you just feel how much was poured in; you could see the primary note being to make each shot bigger and more intricate, allowing the eye to wander around unlike any film I’ve seen. Watching it on my 65” television was a decent introduction, but I can only imagine what it’d be like to see the film in an actual Cinerama theater; where you’re truly surrounded by the beauty. There’s something bittersweet in it being only one of two narratives from the medium, soon replaced by 70mm and other large film formats. Though for how beautiful they often are, I’m left wondering what this experience would have been like. A Bridge Too Far (1977), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), and Ben-Hur (1959) are some of the epic films that first come to mind. There’s something innately physical about the definition. When you watch films like this you see how much people were willing to invest in a piece of visual art; hoping to outdo all other films by offering an immersion unlike anything yet experience. Dunkirk came pretty close to the experience, though even that film and its set pieces pale in comparison to the extravagant moments from this film. How the West Was Won has the strange position of being the type of film that they do not make anymore. I think VR is the only thing that could possibly outshine what this film achieved. BELOW: An example where watching on a laptop prevents the viewer from grasping how massive these images were Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Containing images that burn into your mind Director: Hiroshi Teshigahara Writer: Kobo Abe; based on Tanin no kao by Kobo Abe Cinematographer: Hiroshi Segawa Producer: Hiroshi Teshigahara by Jon Cvack Face of Another closed out Hiroshi Teshigahara’s trilogy, where I first started with Woman in the Dunes (1964) years and years ago, if not in college, where I think I fell asleep the first time, invited a friend for the second, where he then fell asleep and I finished, not entirely sure of everything that happened, but fascinated by the plot of a schoolteacher missing the last bus home, finding a room down inside a dune pit, where he then gets stuck with a crazy young widow. After a first round with the trilogy, Pitfall (1962) is my least favorite, though still a powerful film examining a small mining town and involving a young boy, some union leaders, and a ghost. While none of the films are perfect, with great and challenging ideas that never go exactly where you hope, there is a distinct voice behind them. Watching a video essay (linked below), film scholar James Quandt, I learned that director Teshigahara came from a diverse artistic background, creating extraordinary work in everything from painting and pottery to bamboo modeling and traditional architecture. It makes the work make all the more sense, as with this Quandt breaking down each reference we see an extraordinary range of influences, from Magritte’s "The Lovers" to Dali and his surrealism. The story involves Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai) whose face was grossly disfigured in an industrial accident, now determined to do spend whatever means necessary to fix it. He works with Dr. Hira (Mikijirō Hira) who works out of a bizarre minimalist office, with glass walls and strange anatomical sculptures, with tools and equipment sticking out of random places. Mr. Okuyama is out of his mind, wanting to use the mask to seduce his wife Mrs. Okuyama (Machiko Kyō) who he’s confident finds him absolutely hideous. The film then cuts to a B-story, following a beautiful and unnamed woman (Kunie Tanaka) whose face is half disfigured due to the Atomic bombing of Nagasaki, where she attracts boys until they see the other side of her face, deriding her and running off. Completely overwhelmed and embarrassed by her disfigurement she has an unwavering fear of another atomic bombing - with imagery straight from Terminator 2. Eventually Mr. Okuyama gets the mask, with Dr. Hira warning him of what it could do, allowing him to lose all sense of morality - which in fact happens as he reintegrates himself into society, successfully seducing his wife (or so he thinks), amongst other women. Like Woman in the Dunes, the ideas behind the story are a bit more interesting than the actual story, as for all of its references, it falls into what I discussed just prior with The Castle (1997) - in that it’s relying on the understanding of third party elements to fully appreciate the story. Even the Quandt mentions that none of the films from the trilogy provide solid narratives, as they often get lost in style in order to make up for poorly constructed plots. It was great to watch Nakadai move from a cloth mask to become an actual human, all while he expressed his excitement and malevolent plans and intentions. Perhaps a few more viewings would help to fully appreciate the details, but except for the wife and the awkward moment where he believes he seduces her until she admits she knew the whole time, there was little that helped to build up to the climax. The second story is fascinating as well, providing an intriguing portrayal of damaged beauty, and the ways in which self-consciousness can take on other meanings, but ultimately the story doesn’t get anywhere beyond the fantasies. I would have appreciated seeing more of a struggle between disfigurement with no means to remedy it like Mr. Okuyama, and how she would continue on, rather than leaving a more ambiguous conclusion about another nuclear holocaust. Personally, I saw the film as far more an experimental reflection of post-Atomic Nagasaki, with everyone attempting to fit into a new world and economy, all while tens of thousands were destroyed, with millions still dealing with the effects. Rather than attempting to devise ways to brush aside the history (the bombing happened 20 years prior to the film), it was important to accept the deformities. In some ways I wished, for as uninspired as it would have been, that the film could have had the young woman and Mr. Okuyama meet, and without falling in love or anything romantic, they simply appreciated each other for a moment - even if the same conclusions occurred. As is, the story’s so cynical, though given the time frame, perhaps deservedly so. Hiroshi Teshigahara’s trilogy has been one of my favorite film series I’ve visited in a long time, up there with Bergman’s Glass Darkly and Rosselini’s War Trilogy, and while not as great, are films I’m sure I’ll revisit soon enough. BELOW: Another great Criterion essay (which I recommend watching before the film) Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  As close as I can find to the crisp remastered images and it still falls short Director: Irwin Allen Writer: Irwin Allen and Charles Bennett Cinematographer: Winton Hoch Producer: Irwin Allen by Jon Cvack Although Netflix streaming is rapidly losing its movie streaming market share, one thing they are doing right is providing Ultra-HD 4k versions of classic films. I first noticed the quality when checking out El Dorado (1966), which looked as though it had been shot only years ago, allowing the movie to look precisely how Howard Hawks intended, and making you realize how abysmal the compression has been. Often older movies have that fuzzy, faded, and compressed look that reminds me of seeing the endless slate of westerns playing on TMC. After El Dorado I checked out The Sons of Katie Elder (1966), and while not nearly as crisp, provided another solid transfer, providing another modern feel to it all. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea soared with it this remastering, in which the CinemaScope allowed the technicolor blues and reds to pop from the screen. Again the film looked as though it had been shot only years with ago, with nothing except the cast and effects to show off its age. The story involves a submarine crew aboard the state of the art Seaview, led by Captain Lee Crane (Robert Sterling) who commands a dangerous mission in which the sub fell out of radio contact for 96 hours in order to study the underbelly of the Arctic ice cap. Soon the mission takes a nasty turn when the ice sheet above begins to crack apart and fall upon the ship. Narrowly escaping, they receive word from Mission Control that a meteorite has broken through the Van Ellen Radiation Belt (a real thing), spreading a miasmic heat wave across the world. The Seaview scientists then devise a plan to launch a nuke into the Val Ellen Ring which would somehow cause it to cave in on itself and stop the heat barrage. I’m not sure if it was the crisps colors and the bizarre world they created (it’s hard for me to compare this to anything but a Wes Anderson film) which allowed me to buy into the ridiculous premise, but it doesn’t play as crazy as it sounds. Discord grows between the men, with some arguing a nuclear explosion could hasten the heat wave. Eventually factions form and the divisions widen, with Captain Crane mutinying against his superior Admiral (Harriman Nelson; who in a bizarre coincidence I had just a watch a film ago in Command Decision (1948), thinking he was amazing and the perfect General archetype). It’s upon revisiting the synopsis and seeing the details written out with such brevity (admittedly I broke the movie into three parts due to starting a new gig, causing me to forget the more minor details), but the film deals with everything from religious zealots to saboteurs to psychologists, all while they battle giant squids and travel into underwater minefields. The film is fun to look at that the style fills into all of holes and bizarre developments, as it all works because it’s all rooted in a caricature of reality; taking place in a climate changed world. It’s far from the greatest sci-fi film from the period, and while worth checking out, makes me more excited to see others receive such a crisp update where the world can fully shine. BELOW: Imagine this except with a clean print that looks like it was produced today 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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