The Big Knife (Robert Aldrich, 1955) B-

For what it's worth, I don't think there's another director (besides Sirk in The Tarnished Angels) who used black and white photography in such ways like Robert Aldrich did with both Autumn Leaves and this film. The contrast is crisp and clear and ultimately beautiful to look at. I wish the same could be said about the film. The Big Knife is a solid picture and there are hints at what could have been in some of the performances (Jean Hagen and Shelley Winters do what they can with underwritten roles). The biggest problem with this film is that the screenplay acts like its some sort of formal authority about life in the 50's, "The Great American Screenplay," when in all actuality it's nowhere near as interesting or damning as it thinks it is. We learn from this film that studio chiefs are ruthless, cold people who will do whatever it takes to keep their stars in line and get the most money out of money. Even then, that wasn't exactly the most original thought in the world (The Bad and the Beautiful had been released three years previously) and I wish there had been some more creativity with its intentions.

Jeanne Eagels (George Sidney, 1957) C-

Jeanne Eagels is nothing more than your average completely falsified 50's star biopic in which its only resemblance to reality is the name of the star and a couple of the plays/movies they did in their ascension to stardom. George Sidney is a competent director and makes everything go down rather smoothly, even when it probably shouldn't have, and the finale couple of scenes, highlight Eagels' descent into "alcholism" (she was a heroin addict in real life) surrealy and rather frighteningly. The main weakness in this film is Kim Novak, who plays Eagels. She isn't a good enough actress to make the Jeanne an interesting person outside of her addiction and her drunk scenes were so bad that I wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. She slurs her words so pronouncedly and overacts over drunken gesture that all I could think was that I've seen high schoolers deliver drunk scenes more believable.

Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller, 1953) A

My thoughts here.

Time for Catch Up

Yes, I realize I haven't posted on here in quite awhile and I'm trying to remedy that situation. I'm ready to get back on track but in order to do that, I need to write about the 12 films I've seen in the past week or so. So, here are my quick thoughts about those films:

Funny Games U.S. (Michael Haneke, 2008): People either love or hate this film and I found it profoundly interesting in the way it played with our expectations. The basic message about it all being "only a movie" is not new, but the way Haneke presents it here is just as fascinating as when we first saw it in Sherlock, Jr. I loved the rewind scene and how Haneke's refusal in letting the audience get the revenge they want to see. Bold and imaginative. B+

The Hurricane (John Ford, 1937): Another excursion into overrated John Ford territory. Films about Pacific island natives were in vogue during the 30's, but The Hurricane doesn't have Mutiny on the Bounty's strong narrative and performances or Bird of Paradise's hott, shirtless Joel McCrea. The film's main problem is that it presents the rebellious jailed character played by Jon Hall as the hero; more than anything, he's a hopelessly annoying boy who can't take his minor six month sentence and just move on with his life. Ugh. Even the usually reliable Mary Astor and Thomas Mitchell (who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar, the only reason I watched this film) are boring. D-

Diabolique (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1955): For being considered one of the scariest films ever made, I probably think Diabolique is a tad overrated in that sense. However, I must admit that I was on pins and needles throughout the whole damn film. Just when you think the film is over and you're lulled into a false sense of security, Clouzot finds a new way to jolt you and make you worry for the main characters (a hard-as-nails Simone Signoret and a frail Vera Clouzot). That final scene when Clouzot's character wanders the boarding school in the dark is one of the most intense scenes I've ever seen. B+

The Battle of Algiers (Gillo Pontecorvo, 1968): The story confused me at certain points, but it's hard not to deny the impact of Pontecorvo's directorial style. It can be seen as both a blessing and a curse since it's influence is felt in both the "cinema verite" style of independent filmmaking and the shaky cam action films. B+

Murder, Inc. (Bob Balaban and Stuart Rosenberg, 1960): Peter Falk is the whole show here as soulless hit man Abe Reles in this middling gangster film that is completely stuck in the Production Code despite being from the 60's. C

The Letter (Jean de Limur, 1929): The first version of Maugham's short story is quite an achievement for an early sound film: de Limur doesn't have too many scenes where the dialogue runs on for an unnecessary amount of time and the he does attempt to tell the story visually at certain points. I'm not familiar with the structure of the source, but I think the way de Limur's The Letter lets us in on the crime right away so we figure out Leslie Crosbie (Jeanne Eagels) from scene two eliminates nearly every reason to see this movie (Contrast this with Wyler's version 11 years later which slowly unravels Leslie's story until we realize her ultimate motives at the very end). Eagels was nominated for an Oscar for this performance and God know's why since most of it is a shrilly, over the top mess. She completely unnatural in front of the camera and has the most annoyingly theatrical voice I think I've ever heard. Her only redeeming scene is her final moments when she reveals the truth to her husband and her violent line readings hold the most impact. C-

The Most Dangerous Game (Irving Pichel and Ernest B. Schoedsack, 1932): A stupid story and incredibly wooden acting dash the hopes of The Most Dangerous Game becoming the great lost classic of horror film. However, the editing is some of the crispest and most fascinating that I've seen in a film from this time period. The hunting sequences were spectacularly done and incredibly suspenseful even though you knew what the outcome was going to be. B-

Miller's Crossing (Joel and Ethan Coen, 1990): It's no Fargo or The Big Lebowski and I don't think the dark comedy is as funny or as out in the open as it is in those two masterpieces. As a 30's style gangster film, though, Miller's Crossing is still a pretty damn good film. There are so many characters to keep track of and so many double crossings that it probably needs a couple more viewings to get everything straight, but I still think it's a fun time trying to figure out Gabriel Byrne's character and loving Marcia Gay Harden and her immaculate hair. B+

On the Edge of Innocence (Peter Werner, 1997): I'll admit that the only reason I watched this film was because James Marsden stars as one-half of the romantic duo in this teenage mental hospital patients in love and on the run TV movie. The film is pretty silly in it's depiction of bipolar disorder (in my experience with my brother, the highs and lows are never that high and low) and the ending is simply stupid, but it's fun cheering on this Bonnie and Clyde-esque couple and Marsden is never bad to look at. C-

Jumper (Doug Liman, 2008): What a complete waste of time. From the first voiceover by Hayden Christensen, I was completely over this film. How do you sound that unconvincing and just plain awful in the first 30 seconds? Jamie Bell and Rachel Bilson (whom I loved on The O.C. and actually provoked a couple of seconds of laughter from her reading of "Yeah, I don't speak your language") deserved more than playing second fiddle to Christensen and did the best they could with the completely shitty material. D-

Let Us Be Gay (Robert Z. Leonard, 1930): The only point of interest in this completely average and horribly edited MGM light comedy is the pairing of Norma Shearer and Marie Dressler, two of the most respected and beloved actresses in their day but now nearly completely forgotten and misunderstood. The interplay between these two actresses was hilarious and silly, exactly what the nature of the film calls for. Dressler proved that she was ready for more challenging work and Shearer gives one of her most delightful early performances (and her best between The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg and Private Lives). C

The Cranes Are Flying (Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957): Who knew the Soviet's could make a romance this tender, emotionally fragile and completely honest. Possibly the greatest straight war time romance since The Big Parade. The deep focus photography, straight out of Citizen Kane, was impossibly beautiful and the long tracking shots, which had to have been majorly difficult, were pulled off with ease. A

A Hole in the Head (Frank Capra, 1959) D

I'm not going to lie- I'm a huge fan of Frank Capra. For some reason, his cheesy, unashamedly uplifting "Capracorn" styles work on this little ole cynic. This, combined with the fact that this film boasts a magnificent cast including Frank Sinatra, Edward G. Robinson, Thelma Ritter, Eleanor Parker and Carolyn Jones, should have assured A Hole in the Head greatness. Imagine my surprise when it didn't. A Hole in the Head tells the story of a widowed owner of a sleazy hotel (Frank Sinatra) with a son who he loves more than anything. He's behind on his mortgage payments and about to get thrown out so he tries to get money from his rich brother (Edward G. Robinson) and his wife (Thelma Ritter). They tell him that they'll give him the money if he'll settle down and marry a woman they set him up with (Eleanor Parker). A Hole in the Head is supposed to play like a comedy- the problem is that none of the jokes are even funny (I take that back, one is: Thelma Ritter's line reading at the end "I don't understand...they're so poor and so happy!"). The repeated gag of Robinson falling back on the low chair wasn't funny the first time, so why would I need to see it repeated five or six times? Frank Sinatra was never the greatest actor (even in his most acclaimed performances in From Here to Eternity and The Man With the Golden Arm something was missing), but A Hole in the Head reveals his limitations. He is the last actor I would have picked to play the father; his tough, man's man persona doesn't fit well into the role (I would have rather seen someone like Rock Hudson in the role). A Hole in the Head, in the end, completely wastes the aforementioned dream cast. The actressexual in me loves Ritter, Parker and Jones the most here, but they really aren't given much to do; it's Sinatra and that annoying kid's show unfortunately. Random rant: that "High Hopes" sequence was one of the most awkwardly handled musical scenes I've ever seen. I can suspend disbelief if the entire film is a musical, but it makes absolutely no sense when you have one musical number in a two hour movie.

Desire Under the Elms (Delbert Mann, 1958) C-

I'm not familiar with the original play by Eugene O'Neill that Desire Under the Elms is based on, but I believe that it deserves a far better treatment than what Mann delivers here. The story- a young man lusting after his aged father's hot new wife and their ensuing battle over the land they live on- should have interested me more, but writer Irwin Shaw and director Delbert Mann completely butcher the power of it by not bothering to adapt the play cinematically. The film looks as if it was shot from the audience point of view with absolutely no imagination: you can obviously tell how the different scenes are set up in the stage production. The scenery looks so shoddy and cheap that it could have been knocked over with a breath of air. Burl Ives basically does his whole Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Big Daddy schtick that comes across as hammy beyond belief this time. Sophia Loren is good, but not quite at her Two Women peak. Anthony Perkins, however, proves here that he was a good actor before Psycho and that it wasn't just a fluke. It's no Norman Bates but it's quite a fine performance.

Too Bad She's Bad (Alessandro Blasetti, 1954) B+

A hilarious Italian screwball comedy starring Sophia Loren as the Hawksian motormouth, Marcello Mastroianni as the befuddled Cary Grant-type and Vittorio De Sica as the Charles Coburn screwy father. Too Bad She's Bad is the type of the film don't make anymore and even then it was rare to find a decent one. Judging by the other works I've seen of the main actors (Loren and De Sica with Two Women and Mastroianni as a muse of Fellini), it was strange to find them excelling so well at the break-neck pace of this film. Loren could match Kate Hepburn at her Bringing Up Baby peak and Mastroianni has the ability to still look masculine even while being walked all over by Loren. The chemistry between the two is undeniable and no doubt further cemented their fame together and separately.

The Man With the Golden Arm (Otto Preminger, 1955) B

The Man With the Golden Arm is an interesting film for 1955 in that it deals entirely with the post-recovery portion of drug addiction. That it deals with heroin addiction is probably the reason for its enthusiastic reaction by critics in its day, because, except for that, it's just like every other above-average addiction movie in the vein of Billy Wilder's The Lost Weekend. The film is realistic and honest, but only in that faux-50's style where people are "poor" and wear low-class clothes, but look as if they had just gotten out of hair and makeup. I thought that Frank Sinatra was pretty good, especially during his withdrawal scene, but a tad overrated. Maybe it's just his acting style, but it seems like every line is said with the same deadpan emotion. His voice goes up and down appropriately, but there's nothing really behind it to make it seem real. The real standout is Eleanor Parker as Sinatra's crippled wife. She's written as a one-dimensional guilting nag, but she wisely stays clear of that and almost becomes sort of a femme fatale, doing anything and everything to keep her man.

Edge of the City (Martin Ritt, 1957) C

Martin Ritt's Edge of the City tries too hard to be Stanley Kramer meets On the Waterfront with it's take on 50's race relations and many of the same plot points from that Elia Kazan classic (down to the fight on the pier and a main character named Charlie). It's as if the film can't decide if it wants to be a morality story about standing up against corruption or a love story between an educated woman (Kathleen Maguire) and a lowly dockworker (John Cassavetes) and consequently juggles them both awkwardly. By the end, neither is completely developed or ended properly. The only storyline that moves forward is one that concerns Cassavetes and another dockworker (Sidney Poitier) who befriends him. It's not especially interesting because nothing really happens between them, but Poitier is as charming and potent as always. It's hardly his most interesting role, but I always enjoy seeing him do his thing.

Autumn Leaves (Robert Aldrich, 1956) C

In this Robert Aldrich film, Joan Crawford plays a lonely spinster who suddenly falls in love with a handsome stranger (Cliff Robertson). They get married on a whim and all is well until Crawford catches Robertson in a small lie, which soon escalates into madness after visits from his ex-wife and father. Aldrich, the director of such gothic works as What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte, does a fine job in the beginning of setting up the melodrama and the beginnings of a delicious plot twist. But, somehow, neither of these devices are developed completely. The melodrama aspects weren't as trashy as they could have been, but neither were they on a Sirksian level. There was a slight hint at some kind of twist, with the shot of Robertson's ex-wife and husband embracing in the hotel room, but nothing about this relationship was explored beyond this scene. Autumn Leaves isn't a complete failure, but it's not as successful as its pedigree and beginning suggest.