To Have and Have Not (1944)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

To Have and Have Not (1944) – H. Hawks

On the surface, director Howard Hawks seems to be capitalising on the earlier success of Casablanca by placing Bogie in a very similar role. Here, he plays Harry Morgan, a former smuggler turned charter fishing boat owner working out of Martinique. The French Vichy government (working with/for the Nazis) has taken over but most of the island’s inhabitants are Free French.  Of course, Bogie claims not to be interested in politics and just minding his own business trying to make a buck, but, as before, he can’t help but throw his lot in with the Resistance. But beginning with the Hemingway novel (and with Faulkner as credited screenwriter), Hawks manages to invest the film with his usual theme:  the importance of honour/professionalism/loyalty and the unspoken bond/love between men who work together. Of course, this is also the film where Bogie met Bacall and apparently the script was rewritten to give them ample screentime to show their chemistry – her role isn’t really central to the main action.  Bogie also loves Walter Brennan’s too-far-gone lush (his first mate) and shows real fondness for Marcel Dalio’s bar owner, Frenchy, for whom he agrees to smuggle some people into (and out of) Martinique. It’s a thriller with time for a few musical numbers (courtesy of Hoagy Carmichael and Bacall) and an easy-going classic charm.

3 Faces (2018)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

3 Faces (2018) – J. Panahi

On the surface, this is a typically casual and unassuming “film” from Iranian director Jafar Panahi, similar to the others shot during his 20-year ban from filmmaking. Accompanied by actress Behnaz Jafari, he drives from Tehran to the northwest of the country to a small village near the borders of Azerbaijan and Turkey. They are looking for a girl who sent a short video clip purportedly showing her own suicide (because her parents would not let her accept an offer from a famous acting conservatory). It takes a while to get there and then they cannot find the girl.  The locals are friendly and generous and awed by Jafari’s presence (she is popular on TV) but they speak negatively of the missing girl, calling her empty-headed. They also speak negatively of another “entertainer”, an actress from before the Revolution, who was banished and lives alone and poor in the village. Under the surface, and upon further reflection, it seems clear that Panahi is using this opportunity to shine a light on the troubling treatment of women in Iran and to note how the “traditions” (religious and cultural) in regional areas are blocking progress (just as the single-lane road in the village stops all traffic). As usual with Panahi, there are a lot of playful jokes here (for example, we never see the third “face” of the title), including a lot of offscreen action/sound.  The film also serves as an homage to Panahi’s esteemed colleague Abbas Kiarostami (who died in 2016) – all those shots inside the travelling car, journeys up and down hills, the young child who leads them to the girl’s house, etc. Both also shared the skill of expertly blending fiction and reality such that it becomes hard (or pleasurable) to figure out which is which.  

 

The Big Heat (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Big Heat (1953) – F. Lang

Appearing later in the film noir cycle, when things start to go a bit psychotic, Fritz Lang’s The Big Heat starts with the straightforward investigation of a cop’s suicide and then continues to ramp up the intensity for the remainder of its running time. Glenn Ford, at his cynical best, is homicide detective Sgt. Dave Bannion. He first sees Tom Duncan’s suicide as an open-shut case but when a B-girl from a local bar contacts him with contradictory information after seeing the story in the paper, he decides to dig deeper. Duncan’s widow is clearly hiding something and after the B-girl is murdered, he suspects that the local crime kingpin, Mike Lagana (Alexander Scourby), and his key henchman, Vince Stone (Lee Marvin), may have something to do with it.  He is warned off the case by his superiors but proceeds anyway (as you do, in films like this).  A tragic turn of events leaves Bannion raw and unbridled and he is forced to turn in his badge. Surprisingly, Stone’s girlfriend Debby (played superbly by Gloria Grahame) becomes an important ally. Lang does not shy away from letting us see that Bannion may be not much different from the gangsters he pursues in his willingness to use violence to achieve his goals. Indeed, the worldview here is one that sees humans pursuing their self-interest above all, perverting the institutions set up to ensure a fair and humane society (Bannion is no exception). Dark and cynical, this is one of the best noirs of all time.

La Cérémonie (1995)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

La Cérémonie (1995) – C. Chabrol

At their best, Claude Chabrol’s movies can be very Hitchcockian – after all, the man wrote a classic book about Hitch (with Eric Rohmer). He knows how to set up situations in which even simple actions seem to create suspense – it just takes a few unusual (and unexplained) decisions by a central character to get one’s brain turning. Here, the set-up is straightforward: a bourgeois family in rural Brittany, the Lelievres (Jacqueline Bisset and Jean-Pierre Cassel with respective stepchildren, Virginie Ledoyen and Valentin Merlet), hire a maid, Sophie (Sandrine Bonnaire). We are immediately encouraged to think about the social class divide between these characters but there are also signs that the family is respectful and concerned about Sophie’s well-being (they discuss whether helping her to get a driver’s licence is patronising or not). Yet, soon Sophie starts to act in ways that suggest that she is not as subservient and docile as she seems. She falls under the influence of the chaotic local post office clerk, Jeanne (Isabelle Huppert), who clearly has a chip on her shoulder about the Lelievres. We also learn that Jeanne was previously charged with the death of her own 3-year-old daughter, which naturally adds some suspense. Other secrets emerge as the film progresses. However, it is the shocking ending that really ties the picture together, moving it beyond a simple (although engaging) thriller and into something more complex, a film that tries to understand how class differences may feel from multiple perspectives, each with their own undeniable logic.  

 

Wife of a Spy (2020)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Wife of a Spy (2020) – K. Kurosawa

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa may be best known for his J-Horror films (such as Cure, 1997, or Pulse, 2001) but he has also won the Un Certain Regard jury prize at Cannes for Tokyo Sonata, 2008 (still on my watchlist).  Here, in his first period film, he brings us back to World War II circa 1940. The “spy” in question (played by Issey Takahashi) is an upper-class businessman who dabbles in film-making – after visiting Manchuria (controlled by the invading Japanese army), he returns passionately devoted to exposing the biological warfare being practiced by his own country’s troops there. (I can’t think of too many other Japanese films that highlight civilian opposition to the country’s wartime aggression and human rights abuses right now).  His wife (played by Yû Aoi) is kept mostly in the dark but becomes suspicious, thinking perhaps that her husband is having an affair.  Her investigations ultimately bring them closer together. Although the advertising for the film calls it Hitchcockian, I would say that, despite any twists or suspense, the film veers closer to a romantic melodrama. For example, I was reminded of Mikio Naruse’s Floating Clouds (Ukigumo, 1955) which also takes place in wartime (perhaps it is the period hairstyles and clothes). However, in that film, the love affair involves a married man who won’t leave his wife, thus leaving Hideko Takamine stranded. Here instead, the husband is faithful and thoughtful and, although they are up against the Japanese government and therefore potentially doomed, his love shines through.  An engaging film of muted intensity.    

 

New Tales of the Taira Clan (1955)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

New Tales of the Taira Clan (1955) – K. Mizoguchi

At its conclusion, Mizoguchi’s penultimate film (and final jidaigeki) feels very much like one of Shakespeare’s history plays rather than the stock-standard samurai epic it may at first have seemed. For one thing, there is precious little action – we see our heroes wearily returning from battle or waving their weapons to scare enemies away, but hardly any fighting itself. Instead, Mizoguchi seems more interested in the political intrigues of 12^th century Japan that saw conflict between the nobility (led by the current emperor), the religious class (led by the recently retired “monk-emperor”), and the samurai (here represented by the Taira Clan). To personalise this historical moment, we are encouraged to identify with Kiyomori Taira (Raizô Ichikawa), the son of a heroic samurai (Narutoshi Hayashi) who, despite winning many battles, is not rewarded by the emperor because his advisors (noble courtiers) believe this would empower the samurai too much. At the same time, Kiyomori learns that he may actually be the son of the monk-emperor (his mother was a courtesan who was given away to the Taira leader after becoming pregnant). He is encouraged/tempted to betray the samurai class. More political machinations follow, including a marriage for love that also works to advance certain interests.  Mizoguchi once again proves his mastery in storytelling but also in his use of colour (only his second film using Dalei’s process). What differs from most of his oeuvre is the lack of strong women characters and the deep sense of tragedy that often pervades them. Instead, we are left feeling optimistic about the onset of the era of the samurai (which lasted seven centuries).