Ikiru (1952)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ikiru (1952) – A. Kurosawa

An existential classic from Akira Kurosawa.  One of my favourites from years ago but I was worried it might be too sentimental upon this rewatch.  Takashi Shimura (later the head of the Seven Samurai, 1954) plays Watanabe, chief of the public liaison section of city hall, a petty bureaucrat who has spent 30 years pushing papers and referring community members to other sections. The film opens just as Watanabe finds out that he has stomach cancer and may have only six months to live. The first half of the film shows us Watanabe’s immediate reaction: first, despair; then, giving in to total hedonism; then, seeking human connection (first with his son and daughter-in-law who essentially reject him, then with a younger co-worker who ultimately finds him weirdly desperate); finally, he decides to use his final months to do something meaningful.  Earlier, we had seen a group of women petitioning the city to convert a disused swampy area into a children’s playground, but Watanabe’s section (and all the other sections) gave them the run-around.  Now, Watanabe decides to break the impasse and make the project a reality. Fast forward five months and we are now at Watanabe’s wake, attended by the Deputy Mayor, his senior advisors and section chiefs, and, of course, Watanabe’s own section members and his family. The second half of the film shows us the different reactions of all of these people to Watanabe’s final actions (in a Rashomon-like display of perceptual biases).  The Deputy Mayor seeks to take all of the credit for the playground himself while his senior advisors all suck up to him and agree.  After they have quickly excused themselves from the wake, Watanabe’s staff review all of the events of the previous few months (in flashback) to give us a portrait of Watanabe as single-mindedly determined to get the project done despite many bureaucratic hurdles and setbacks (this is, in essence, a scathing satire of Japanese society at the time). Naturally heartstrings are tugged but not in a heavy-handed way. Shimura underplays the grey man so much so that he is very nearly characterless but in the end his actions – and therefore his life -- have made a real difference to the world. And that’s what it’s all about.  (I have not been drawn to watch the recent remake with Bill Nighy in the Shimura role, Living, 2022).

  

5 Fingers (1952)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

5 Fingers (1952) -- J. L. Mankiewiecz

James Mason excelled at playing disdainful bad guys, although he was charismatic enough to absorb attention in the hero role too.  Here, he is thoroughly bad, as a traitor selling secrets to the Nazis stolen from under the nose of the British Ambassador in Ankara, Turkey (he is the ambassador’s valet).  His motive is money and he swears no political allegiances.  Director Joseph L. Mankiewiecz follows Mason’s actions so closely that we come to identify with him and almost hope that his plans to reveal the details of Operation Overlord (D-Day landing site) succeed.  His partner is played by Danielle Darrieux, an exiled countess who has fallen on hard times and, similarly, is open to the highest bidder, Nazi or British, and thus receptive to Mason’s overtures (he was formerly her husband’s valet).  Apparently, the spy story is true and based on a book by one of the central Nazi figures in the action but Mankiewicz (and screenwriter Michael Wilson) inserted the countess into the script which introduces richer deeper themes about class into the mix.  After all, Mason is a valet who seeks to improve his lot in life through espionage, expecting even to bed/wed the countess.  The plot has enough twists to ensure its appeal to those seeking a ripping spy story although the failure of the Allies to detect Mason for most of the picture seems a bit far-fetched.  A good one, filmed on location in Turkey with a Bernard Herrmann score to boot.

  

Le Plaisir (1952)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Le Plaisir (1952) – M. Ophuls

Ophuls tackles three Maupassant stories with his usual gliding camera, fantabulous costumes and sets, and wry wit. All very Gay Nineties, focused on the pros and cons of seeking pleasure.

Son of Paleface (1952)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Son of Paleface (1952) – F. Tashlin

It’s a cartoon come to life, with Bob Hope’s one-liners not that far from Daffy Duck’s similarly witty repartee.  Hope also finds himself subjected to a variety of slapstick situations and even drinks a cocktail that makes his head spin around and steam come out of his ears.  Although this is a sequel to Paleface and features some of the same cast (outlaw Jane Russell, for example), director (formerly writer) Frank Tashlin takes things one step beyond (or more than one step beyond) the earlier film by making it insane.  Roy Rogers and Trigger are along for the ride and somehow (in between all of the singing cowboy stuff), they supply a good deal of comedy – particularly Trigger.  Do not take it lightly when I suggest that this is funny (in a Looney Tunes way) because I am sure you can easily imagine how crap this formula could be (a funny horse and Bob Hope – yeah right!).  Hope plays the son of his former character (Painless “Paleface” Potter) who has returned to the West to seek his inheritance.  But who cares about plot when absurdity rules?

  

The Narrow Margin (1952)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Narrow Margin (1952) – R. Fleischer

Incredibly taut and suspenseful B-movie film noir that makes up for plot holes (apparent later not sooner) with tough dialogue and hand-held camerawork. A hard-boiled cop must escort a gangster's moll across country by train for her appearance in front of the grand jury in L. A. She is not grateful and to make matters worse, the mob's gunmen are on the train too. Highly recommended.

Los Olvidados (1952)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Los Olvidados (1952) – L. Buñuel

Brutal, exceedingly dark "neorealist" look at kids in the slums of Mexico City in the 1950s. By Luis Buñuel, so there is a surrealistic dream sequence (and a blind man rubbing a pigeon on a sick woman). Even though I accept the take home message that poverty may breed social ills, I still hated "Jaibo" and his cruel ways. Buñuel serves up such an unsentimental, unflinching, and yes ugly look at the problem that it seems hard not to despair about the difficulty of solving it.