Seconds (1966)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Seconds (1966) – J. Frankenheimer

This is a strange and paranoid sci-fi drama that tackles major philosophical questions (such as, “what is identity?”) in the context of loneliness, anomie, generational gaps, and other major concerns of the sixties (and since).  John Frankenheimer had the wisdom to cast two different actors as the same man, Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph at first), who contracts with a company that promises to rebuild him as a new different person (a reborn named Antiochus Wilson, played by Rock Hudson), killing off his old self in the process (a hotel fire, in this case).  The first half of the film shows us Hamilton’s angst in trying to decide whether his life is worth keeping or ditching and the temptations of starting again (at middle age, with no financial concerns) in order to attempt to fulfil heart’s desires (as a painter rather than a banker), the desires that went unfulfilled in the old life.  The second half of the film shows us Hamilton reborn, with Rock Hudson doing an excellent job of playing a secretly older man trapped in a somewhat younger stud’s body, gamely or not so gamely trying to adapt to a more swinging crowd.  In fact, “trapped” becomes the operant word here as Hudson begins to feel he made a mistake…  Perhaps more interesting are the numerous parallels to Hudson’s own “double life” since he was in the closet at the time – some of his lines take on extra meaning if you think about the fact that he/Hudson was hiding his sexual orientation just as he/Antiochus Wilson is hiding the fact that he is/used to be Hamilton.  Cinematography in B&W by James Wong Howe is sometimes experimental and visceral (in keeping with Frankenheimer’s live TV beginnings).  Spooky titles by Saul Bass.  Psychodrama music by Jerry Goldsmith.    A downer, of course, but one that can really get you thinking.

  

Scarlet Street (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Scarlet Street (1945) – F. Lang

Edward G. Robinson stars as the poor sap who is taken advantage of when he falls for a much younger femme fatale (Joan Bennett) after “rescuing” her from a bad man (Dan Duryea) who is beating her on the street in Greenwich Village.  Despite being married (unhappily of course), Robinson’s character, Chris Cross, falls for Bennett who thinks he is a famous artist rather than only a Sunday painter who has a day job as a cashier for a major company.  She (and her boyfriend Duryea) play him for a sucker, asking for money to set her up in her own apartment, money which he ends up stealing from his employer and from his wife (who is hoarding an insurance settlement from the death of her first husband).  So far, so noir – but it gets darker.  Director Fritz Lang freely adapted Renoir’s La Chienne (1931) to fit the New York setting and the conventions of noir.  I’d seen both this film and the earlier one before, years ago, but had forgotten the twists and turns of the plot that see Cross’s fortunes rise and fall through both serendipity and his own actions.  Ultimately, the laws of the noir film (and the Hays Office) seem to follow the principle of karma, such that Robinson’s moral failings have to result in his undoing, no matter how much we are on his side (even if we shouldn’t really be).  But truly this is a downbeat ending that grabs you and won’t let go.  One of the high water marks of the genre from a director who made guilt, jealousy, anger, revenge, and all of the negative emotions central to his work.

   

La Grande Guerra (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Grande Guerra (1959) – M. Monicelli

A look at the Italian army in WWI.  We follow Vittorio Gassman and Alberto Sordi from the point of being drafted onward to their actual experience of trench warfare and combat in the streets, small villages, farmhouses, and fields.  As in most other war films, death is swift and omnipresent.  Still, there is camaraderie among the troops and Gassman and Sordi are the chief slackers/jokers, always trying to stay out of harm’s way.  So, the tone is often light and even comic, which makes the moments of pathos that much more intense (and there are many, often at the end of a scene).  War films seem to invite an episodic structure and that is also true here; our heroes encounter a variety of typical situations (on leave in a small village, sent to requisition supplies, volunteered for hazardous duty, trapped behind enemy lines, etc.).  The sets and action are impressively naturalistic with solid direction by Mario Monicelli (who also did the excellent heist comedy, Big Deal on Madonna Street, 1958). Naturally, as the film closes, we are left to ponder “to what end?”  Nominated for the Best Foreign Film Oscar.  Worth a look.

  

The Awful Truth (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Awful Truth (1937) – L. McCarey

A screwball comedy of remarriage that exudes charm and a certain sense that it was all made up on the spot, with plenty of in-jokes between cast members (Irene Dunne and Cary Grant, primarily).  Dunne and Grant are happily wed but begin to become suspicious of each other’s possible extracurricular attachments and a quick argument leads to divorce proceedings (but don’t worry because this is screwball comedy!).  They fight over custody of Mr Smith (the same dog who played Asta in the Thin Man series) who winds up with Dunne.  On the rebound, she strikes up a romance with Oklahoma oilman Ralph Bellamy, who plays the unsophisticated country boy (still living with his mama) to a tee.  Of course, Grant can’t help but poke fun at her and she comes to see how silly things are since she is clearly an urbane New Yorker fond of the nightlife.  By the time she comes around, Grant is also nearly engaged to a wealthy debutante – but it doesn’t take much for Dunne to do to ruin his prospects.  Of course, they end up back together (another “comedy of remarriage”).  Director Leo McCarey won the Best Director Oscar for this film which can’t help but bring a smile to your face (even after a bad day at work – or especially after a bad day at work!).  One of the best of its kind. 

Went the Day Well? (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Went the Day Well? (1942) – A. Cavalcanti

Adapted from a Graham Greene short story, this British film (from Ealing Studios) presents a hypothetical for the home audience.  What if the Germans successfully invaded a country village in the UK?  The plot sees German soldiers well-trained in English and British culture arrive in Bramley End disguised as British soldiers needing to billet for a few days for some “exercises”.  Of course, they are welcomed by the locals – and particularly Leslie Banks, who plays a member of the Fifth Column (working for the Nazis) but who is nevertheless the local organiser for the town’s defences.  The Germans plan to set up some equipment that can disrupt communication networks in advance of a real invasion by their armed forces.  After a few mistakes on the part of the Nazis (a chocolate bar with a German brand is discovered), the locals start to get suspicious – but it is too late and they are rounded up and held captive in the local Manor house.  What unfolds then is a story of British pluck and gumption, as the motley assortment of locals seek to escape and alert those outside the town to their plight.  Director Alberto Cavalcanti (a Brazilian who was a regular for Ealing in the Forties, including participating in spooky horror anthology Dead of Night, 1945) handles everything with verve and there is nary a dull moment.  Of course, the British community was probably beyond worrying that the Nazis would invade in 1942 (because the Battle of Britain had been won) but Hitler was not yet vanquished (nor the extent of his crimes revealed) when this film was released.  As a paranoid fantasy of the first rank, even today it can produce a shudder when you imagine “what if”.  

Saving Private Ryan (1998)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Saving Private Ryan (1998) – S. Spielberg

It took me 20 years to decide to watch this, due to my general aversion to Tom Hanks alone or in combination with Steven Spielberg (who, as a director, often veers toward heavy-handedness).  However, this war movie is visceral and gripping enough to overcome the inevitable weaknesses associated with its star and auteur director.  So, yes, we are strongly encouraged to endorse Spielberg’s view of the “greatest generation” as uniquely courageous and noble, overcoming horrific obstacles and bonding together as a team, with John Williams’ soundtrack sweeping us along and Hanks’ central Captain modelling bravery as a do-no-wrong caring and sympathetic but ordinary guy thrust into an impossible situation.  Maybe the war really was like this for some and I offer all of the veterans my thanks and gratitude.  Fortunately, the film isn’t all glorification – we do see moments of fear, cowardice, dissent, and cruelty from the Americans that probably better reflect the width of human experience in this sort of crucible.  However, critic Jonathan Rosenbaum argues that Spielberg hasn’t offered anything new that past war movies haven’t also shown and perhaps that is true.  But this production added a level of grotesque “realism” and “you are there” action/violence that might not have been possible before 1998 – it led to Spielberg’s subsequent involvement with WWII based video games and you can see the influence (bi-directional, most likely).  The central plot conceit, that Hanks and his small band (of soon-to-be known young actors) must find Private Ryan (Matt Damon) whose three brothers have already been killed in order to send him home to his grieving mama, allows the characters to reflect on the meaningfulness of their actions and adds another dimension to the film, a focus on the guilt and sadness of those who survived.  Although the film doesn’t seem to contain any anti-war messages (perhaps because the moral justifications were so strong in that particular war), thinking about the post-traumatic stress of the former combatants (after seeing the visceral and brutal re-enactments here) is enough to ward anyone off from promoting war as a way to resolve differences.  That said, a case could be made for the film as an army recruitment campaign for those who love action, maybe.

  

The Holy Mountain (1973)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Holy Mountain (1973) – A. Jodorowsky

It is hard to say whether Jodorowsky is a visionary or a crackpot but it doesn’t really matter because he is the living embodiment of the artistic impulse, the desire to channel one’s self and ideas as fully as possible through art (whether it be film, comic books, theatre, novels, or mime as the case could be with this man).  Certainly, in his earlier period as a director, he pulled out all the stops, using gratuitous (or sometimes necessary) nudity and violence alongside spiritual themes and grander abstract symbols, so many symbols, to create “midnight movies” such as El Topo (1970).  In The Holy Mountain, sometimes it seems that he is throwing just about everything at the screen to see what sticks and other times it seems as though there is some meaning lurking in the varied and bizarre images that appear on screen.  (This impression was heightened because I turned on the subtitles only to find that they were Jodorowsky’s director’s commentary appearing along with the original soundtrack in English; Jodorowsky has grown into a wise, gentle, and humorous man who seems to have negotiated life to attain some real spiritual peace and perspective – he offers some interesting clarifications!).  The plot here seems to break into three sections.  First, we meet a thief who looks enough like Jesus that some priests make a plaster mould of him to create some Jesus effigies for sale (no doubt a comment on religion and materialism and the motives of various churches).  The thief meets various Mexican people (prostitutes as well as priests) and witnesses a toad and chameleon stage show representing the Conquistadors attack on the Aztecs (warning: these reptiles do not survive this movie).  After the thief scales a tower and enters a magical land, we begin the second part.  The thief meets an alchemist (played by Jodorowsky himself) who turns shit into gold and bathes the thief in a room that includes a stunning camel and a frolicking hippo and naked women looking serious (or having their heads shaved).  The extremely fashionable alchemist invites the thief to join him on a quest to the Holy Mountain with 7 other people, introduced in turn, who represent the planets (with astrological meanings).  Some of their meeting takes place in a room with huge paintings of Jodorowsky’s own tarot deck, but later they are seated at a table shaped like an eye (when seen from above) with a fire pit in the center.  Once they have abandoned their material possessions, the third part, the trek to the mountain begins -- and the cinematography changes entirely, as Jodorowky and his team head out to really climb a mountain.  No more stylized sets and freaky set-pieces; now we are ready for spiritual ascension.  At the top, are the universe’s rulers, who are to be replaced by our new nine – or not!  The film ends with an abrupt joke!  We are thrown back to reality, presumably changed by the very strange trip that Jodorowsky has taken us on.  So, ultimately, your mileage may vary: there may be some real symbols and archetypal themes embedded in the film or it might all just be the hallucinatory ravings of an avowed surrealist (who, like Bunuel, takes potshots at society’s main institutions along the way).  At any rate, it is very often a wonder to behold and the soundtrack (with contributions from Don Cherry) is the perfect accompaniment.  For the open-minded and not for those easily offended or shocked.

  

The Shop on Main Street (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Shop on Main Street (1965) – J. Kadár and E. Klos

A horror film or a tragedy or both – what else can you say about a film that examines the effects of fascism (in this case instituted by the provincial Nazi supporters in Slovakia) on two people (seen as a microcosm).  Tono Brtko (Jozef Kroner) is an underemployed carpenter who is granted the role of “Aryan Controller” by his brother-in-law, a local official, and told to take over the titular button shop run by elderly widow Mrs. Lautmann (Ida Kaminska) who is Jewish.  We can see that Tono is suspicious of the fascists and reluctant to be a part of their movement but his wife is overjoyed at the prospects of a change in their fortunes.  Some of their interactions (and a drunken night with the brother-in-law) are played for comedy but it is an unsettling sort of humour and the dissonant musical accompaniment heard in these early scenes strikes a tone of warning.  When Tono does head out to take over Mrs. Lautmann’s store, he finds that his instinct (spurred on by a local friend of the Jews) is to simply accommodate her, as she is elderly, hard of hearing and seemingly unaware at all of the changes in her political fortune.  And since the coterie of Jewish business owners offers to pay him a weekly wage (since Lautmann’s long bankrupt store wouldn’t anyway), Tono is content.  However, this arrangement does not last long and the film darkens considerably as the fascists begin to round up the Jews.  Their friend is captured and beaten.  Tono is afraid and vacillates between wanting to protect Mrs. Lautmann and thinking of turning her in.  Directors Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos keep the focus on the individuals in question but it is clear that their reactions are meant to stand for those of the larger populace, who may find themselves as either the beneficiaries or victims of fascism, with complicated motivations and emotions and even more difficult relations.  Although it seems obvious where the moral high ground sits, The Shop on Main Street argues humanistically that the actual predicament of confronting this plague is more fraught than one can anticipate.  True bravery may be required and not everyone is made of such strong stuff.  In the end, the film is a lament for humanity (and a brutal shock to the system).  Stay alert.

Hell or High Water (2016)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Hell or High Water (2016) – D. Mackenzie

West Texas seems a burnt out place in this moody thriller (of sorts) from writer Taylor Sheridan and director David Mackenzie. The soundtrack by Warren Ellis and Nick Cave adds dramatically to the effect alongside a well-chosen selection of country twang that fits the West Texas setting.   The plot unfolds slowly with an easy-going air of simplicity.  Two brothers (Ben Foster and Chris Pine) are robbing banks to raise some money for an unknown reason. Two Texas Rangers are tracking them (Gil Birmingham and Jeff Bridges).  The film takes the time to show us their relationships in enough detail so that we see their differing personalities.  But the overall effect is of patient and economic storytelling. Director David Mackenzie (although a Brit) captures the despondent ethos of the local area, where banks and their greed have helped to create and perpetuate poverty and anger.  Eventually, we find out the motivation for the younger brother (Pine), even as we realise that the older brother (Foster) is a psychopath.  Bridges and Birmingham don’t have too much to do except to exchange (loving) insults.  Yet, the result is watchable and rewarding on a sort of primeval level, even if the film doesn’t have too much to say didactically. (An interview with the director and cast suggests they were trying to present reality as ambiguous).  In the end, you probably wouldn’t want to live there but it’s a pleasure to absorb the mood for a couple of hours.