Favorite (four), part six

Just like in my other five posts thus far in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  I'm trying right now to take in almost a film a day.  Most have been first-time viewings.  And most I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me.  This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two of these will be good to someone else, too).

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Red Shoes
Powell believed in beauty.  And Powell believed in art.  And this is about as beautiful a film about art, creation, and the artist's life as any I've ever seen.  Walbrook and Shearer's performances are otherworldly.  


Joseph L. Mankiewicz's House of Strangers
Richard Conte's great and so is Edward G. Robinson (in fact, they both deliver two of their more memorable performances).  Another key to The Godfather and Mean Streets, and at times, downright classic.

Nicholas Ray's They Live by Night
Finally, I understand all the fuss.  It's an incredible debut and now up there among my favorite noirs.  Bowie and Keechie's chemistry is amazing, and there's something tremendously compelling about both Granger and O'Donnell.  Ray keeps things moving and shows off his inventive eye in a number of different scenes.  And he demonstrates that he has a real poetic connection and understanding of the outdoors.  A wonderful fatalistic build-up near the end rounds up a very, very good film.  

Samuel Fuller's The Steel Helmet
Fuller's expressionistic style and inventiveness under constrained circumstances (apparently a ten day shooting schedule) elevate this film to great interest.  Raw and full of engaged subtext, an incredibly original work for its time.  And with at least one classic line, "If you die, I'll kill you."

Favorite (four), part five

Just like in my other four posts thus far in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  I'm trying right now to take in almost a film a day.  Most have been first-time viewings.  And most I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me.  This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two of these will be good to someone else, too).

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death
The most ambitious of the lot and the one that consistently made me in absolute awe of its sheer technical accomplishment.  Reminded me of some of Kubrick's more mind-blowing art direction and kept me repeatedly saying to myself, "I can't believe they just did that."  Probably not the most emotionally satisfying of the Powell/Pressburger films, but the formal accomplishment needs to be seen.  


David Lean's Great Expectations
I've never read the novel so the twists and turns of the story were particularly affecting.  Lean demonstrates his acute visual sense and his wonderful ability with actors.  I felt this one, I admired this one, and I thought it not only underrated, but completely satisfying.  


Abraham Polonsky's Force of Evil
A real masterpiece in my book.  I've long known it to be one of Scorsese's favorite films, but I just got around to seeing it for the first time.  Its visual naturalism is stunning and its raw power quite special. Seems to be a key link to The Godfather.  (In fact, McCluskey's death and the way that Coppola handles it seem to come almost verbatim from this earlier film.)  Also seems to have influenced Mean Streets and the noir texture of some of the early Nouvelle Vague films.  It's tragic that Polonsky didn't have the opportunity to direct more for with this one he left us a real gem.  


Lewis Milestone's The Strange Love of Martha Ivers
Milestone might not do anything particularly flashy.  But he captures the noir spirit and keeps this one plowing ahead, always in sync with the dark, complex, and rough noir tradition.  One of the great noir endings and certainly one of its better cast.  A noir that deserves to be a part of the dialogue and history.  

1947: Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur)

1947: Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur)
When I made The Last Lullaby, some people called it film noir, and then others would ask me what exactly that meant.  It's a much debated term, and I try and stay on the side of being simple as much as I can. Noir in French = dark.  Dark here usually speaks of a thematic darkness and a literal, visual darkness. 


Still not sure what I'm talking about?   Take a look at this film.  It's a prototypical film noir, and almost everyone agrees it's one of the best.


I became a fan of noir, probably before any other genre, for a number of reasons.  One of them is I like a good story, and I guess I mean that in the traditional sense of the term -- something with a plot, a conflict, and a vehicle that charges toward some resolution, as ambiguous as that might be.  Many of the noir films fit this description.  They have surprises, they keep you guessing, and they're usually taut and charging forward at a pretty good clip.  Don't get me wrong, some of my (other) favorite films are purely character-driven, but I do really like the feeling of being sucked up into a plot, unsure of how it will all end up.   


Out of the Past has one of these stories.  It also has wonderful characters, two of the greatest noir actors (Kirk Douglas and Robert Mitchum) in two of their greatest performances, noteworthy composition, fluid camerawork, evocative lighting, and one of the moodiest house locations in the history of cinema (I guess it reminds me a little of James Mason's compound in North by Northwest.)  


Wholly satisfying on every level, this film is one helluva ride.   

Other contenders for 1947: As with other years, there are definitely some things I still need to see.  These include: Delmer Daves' Dark Passage, Alfred Hitchcock's The Paradine Case, Carol Reed's Odd Man Out, Jean Renoir's The Woman on the Beach, Robert Rossen's Body and Soul, and Edmund Goulding's Nightmare Alley.  Although they wouldn't be the closest runners-up, I love Jacques Becker's Antoine and Antoinette, Raoul Walsh's Pursued, and Henry Hathaway's Kiss of Death.  Then, there are two films that pain me a little to not have as top picks, both among my favorite films of all time: Roberto Rossellini's Germany Year Zero and Michael Powell's Black Narcissus.  A really tough year for me to call, I just probably like the Tourneur film a little bit more than everything else.  


3/16/10 I watched Edmond Goulding's Nightmare Alley.  Although it wouldn't contend for my top spot, it's definitely one of the more unhinged, full-fledged noirs I've seen from this period.  I really enjoyed it.  


10/17/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Paradine Case.  It contains some of Hitch's most expressive and emotional camerawork.  But it's a strange, ultimately very bleak film that didn't grab me near as much as some of his other work.  Worth seeing but certainly not top-tier Hitch.  


10/18/10 I watched Delmer Daves' Dark Passage.  The novelty of the subjective camera is used well, and Bogart/Bacall's chemistry is quite palpable.  But all in all a little too plodding and flaccid for my taste in noir.  


7/25/11 I watched Carol Reed's Odd Man Out.  Beautifully filmed and lushly scored, it's an impressive film.  It feels slightly theatrical to me, though.  I'm not sure if they were really in the streets or most of this is backlot stuff.  But the suspicion of artificiality keeps me from fully embracing it.  

3/15/12 I watched Robert Rossen's Body and Soul.  It's a strong noir, particularly as it drives to its end, and it has that hysterical, abstract quality that makes so many of the noirs so special.  Benefitting considerably from some James Wong Howe masterwork, it's a Scorsese favorite.  For me though, it's simply a very good, not great, noir. 

7/2/12 I watched Raoul Walsh's The Man I Love.  An extremely interesting noir, with a backbone that's as dark as can be, yet devoid of any on-screen shootings, murders, or highly realized violence.  The mood is foggy, and Walsh's great tool here is restraint.  You feel the atmosphere building and at any moment ready to all fall apart.   People are trapped, the outlook somber, and the effect all the more effective as no real catharsis is ever achieved.  

10/12/14 I watched Joseph Mankiewicz's The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.  Sometimes one film can make you completely rethink your opinion on a director and make you want to suddenly stop watching everything else and fill in whatever gaps may remain for you of that director's work.  I had one of those experiences today.  I have long been a fan of The Barefoot Contessa but aside from that Mankiewicz I have never had strong feelings about anything else I had ever seen from him and had quite a few films of his I still needed to see.  The Ghost and Mrs. Muir reminds me of all that I have come to love about Contessa.  It is deeply felt and wonderfully balanced in spite of some very unconventional tonal shifts and emotional territories in which it decides to tread.  Tierney is stunning.  Herrmann's score is among the most emotive I have ever heard.  And this is a flat out masterpiece that deserves a significantly larger reputation.   

12/2/17 I watched Robert Montgomery's Ride the Pink Horse.  An effective noir that makes great use of its Mexico locations.  It has that seamy atmosphere of the best films of the genre and exists in a haze and stupor that keeps it in a compelling, elevated state.  Not all of it pops but there are number of great elements, including all of the scenes on the carousel and the final few moments.  

12/9/17 I watched Otto Preminger's Daisy Kenyon.  Armed with a powerhouse trio of actors (Crawford, Fond and Andrews), Preminger creates one of his most effective films.  It is dark, unpredictable and tackles subject matter (extramarital relationships) that had to be far out of step with his time.  The most impressive aspect of the film is the way that Preminger is able to able to place the viewer, at different times, into the unique perspective of each of the three characters.  It is a complex, uncomfortable look at marriage with a resolution that, like Preminger, leaves you a bit perplexed.

3/21/20 I watched Allan Dwan's Driftwood.  What a great surprise this was.  From seeing Natalie Wood as a child actor to the overall feeling Dwan gives the whole film.  Reminds me of Walsh's Strawberry Blonde in its depiction of the wonderful community aspect that can come out in small towns.  I know Dwan has a big reputation.  If this any indication, I certainly need to seek out more of his work.  

9/25/22 I watched Henri-Georges Clouzot's Quai des Orfevres.  One of the earliest, most thorough procedurals I can remember seeing on screen.  Once Jouvet is on screen, it takes on some of the intensity and focus of a film like Le Trou but I found myself less invested in the characters than in other, similar works.  

8/20/22 I watched George Cukor's A Double Life.  Most impressive is the darkness Cukor sustains from nearly the beginning to the end.  It is almost fully lacking in the lightness we have come to expect from most Cukor work.  But it is also a trudge.  In my favorite noir there is enjoyment in trying to see how it all ends up.  I found myself not invested enough to care.  

1943: Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock)

1943: Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock)
For awhile, it was hard for critics to think of Hitchcock as an artist.  He was the "master of suspense" and a wonderful entertainer, but it wasn't clear that his movies aimed for anything higher or more profound than that.  I'm not sure they always did, and for some reason in Hitchcock's case, I have no problem with it.   

What was it?  Was it Hitchcock's sense of humor?  Was it the way he would keep us guessing, depriving us of knowing for sure how the story would turn out?  Or was it simply the pure visceral thrills that he seemed to so easily provide?  Really, I'm not sure of the exact answer.  But whatever it was, Hitchcock could entertain at times in a way that would completely satisfy me, without ever seeming to directly address my more intellectual side.  

Shadow of a Doubt is a perfect example of the above for me.  It's fun, entertaining from beginning to end, creepy, darkly humorous, but it never really forces me to question anything above and beyond the story. All right, maybe it's just good moviemaking.  The story is extremely well-written, perfectly cast I would argue (particularly Joseph Cotten and Teresa Wright), full of some fantastic set pieces, and demonstrates Hitch's understanding and mastery of suspense as well as any film he ever made.  

It's Hitchcock as I like him most.  He's distilled down to his role as master entertainer.  And it would be years before the French New Wave guys let him in on a little secret -- he might also be an artist. 

Other contenders for 1943: This is the sort of year that gives me a slight complex.  I didn't realize, really, how many key movies I still have to see until I started doing this countdown.  But this year, as much as any, exposes some serious gaps.  From 1943, here are all the major movies I have never seen: Jacques Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie, Howard Hawks' Air Force, Henri Georges Clouzot's Le corbeau, Fritz Lang's Hangmen Also Die!, Carl Theodor Dreyer's Day of Wrath, Jean Renoir's This Land Is Mine, Raoul Walsh's Northern Pursuit, Robert Bresson's Les anges du peche, Howard Hughes' The Outlaw, Jacques Tourneur's The Leopard Man, Mark Robson's The Seventh Victim, and William Wellman's The Ox-Bow Incident.  Given that I've seen very little from this year, it makes sense that I only have one true runner-up. Michael Powell's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is another one of these movies that takes its time and gives us an unusually well-rounded look at the life of one man.  I've only seen it once, many years ago, but I remember it being human, epic, and very moving.  But, alas, I gave the year to Hitch as this is one of his films that I've always loved the most.  

9/1/10 I watched Jacques Tourneur's The Leopard Man.  I know it has a huge reputation, and I did enjoy it - it certainly achieves an extraordinary amount given its limited means.   And Tourneur/Lewton certainly understand the power of suggestion as well as anyone I've seen.   

9/10/10 I watched Henri Georges Clouzot's Le corbeau.  I was excited to finally see this one as I know it was a key film to Truffaut during his formative years.  Although I find it a little too talky and plotting and perhaps even a little dated, there are some extremely interesting moments.  I especially liked some of Clouzot's close-ups, and it was interesting to me to see how the idea of a character running from his past identity might have informed Truffaut's Shoot the Piano Player.

9/15/10 I watched Carl Theodor Dreyer's Day of Wrath.  It's a film with a huge reputation and one that certainly has a real special strength to it. Although I would have to say that I still prefer his Joan of Arc, Ordet, and Gertrud, I found this film to be incredibly powerful, as well.  I'm not sure I understand all the subtext, but Dreyer proves to be unusually skillful with nature, actors, and providing his films with a special heft and sacredness.  

9/17/10 I watched William Wellman's The Ox-Bow Incident. Interesting to think how much of an influence it might have had on both the tone and look of Jarmusch's Dead Man.  The dialogue and feel of the film is stunningly modern at times.  And it once again confirmed how much the war factored in as subtext to the majority of the films made during WWII.  Wellman once again turns in a very interesting film.

9/17/10 I watched Jacques Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie.  It's a very specifically directed film that maximizes all that it has.  I can't say that I fully connected to the story, but I certainly appreciate the strength that Tourneur was able to achieve from all his choices.  

9/22/10 I watched Mark Robson's The Seventh Victim.  Producer Lewton's reputation is valid - he's the master of lo-fi discomfort and offscreen sound, achieving masterful moments with the most limited of means.  Of all his work I've seen, this is probably my favorite.  

9/26/10 I watched Fritz Lang's Hangmen Also Die!  It's a bit long, perhaps, but Lang demonstrates many times how cinematic his eye was.  He also shows how baroque and dark he was willing to take his work.  Some incredible moments, and a personal film, albeit a bit propagandistic.  

7/13/11 I watched George Stevens' The More the Merrier.  An offbeat, tonally strange romantic comedy.  Some of the romantic stuff seems to defy the Hays Code, which is fun to see, but it was hard to ever fully get into rhythm with the thing.  

10/17/11 I watched Jacques Becker's Goupi Mains Rouges.  My least favorite of the Becker films I've seen.  Has a terrific scene near the end in a tree, but otherwise not as engaging as some of his other work.  

11/16/13 I watched George Stevens' The More the Merrier again.  I am sure there have been great studies done on the correlation between viewer state of mind and a response to a work of art.  Even though I pride myself on having a fairly good first response that rarely shifts significantly one way or another upon a subsequent viewing, I have had occasion where I completely change my opinion.  Here is such a time.  I am not sure how I could have ever made the comments above as today I found this to be one of the most wonderful, moving romantic comedies I have ever seen.  The chemistry between Arthur and McCrea is downright dangerous and Coburn is the lovely force, both funny and wise, that keeps the fires stoked.  A new favorite and a lovely film that I hope others get to savor soon.  It brought me the exact pleasure I needed on this glum Saturday.

5/19/14 I watched Raoul Walsh's Background to Danger.  I found it entertaining enough.  Full of twists and turns and Lorre and Raft are always fun to watch.  It was tough though for me to get terribly invested in the plot or any of the characters.  Definitely not top tier Walsh.  Just decent wartime entertainment.  

5/4/19 I watched Raoul Walsh's Northern Pursuit.  There were some impressive action sequences and Flynn was good as usual alongside Walsh.  But none of it felt truly passionate or memorable.  

11/23/21 I watched Tex Avery's Who Killed Who?  Inventive but not my thing at all.  

2/7/22 I watched Robert Bresson's Les anges du peche.  In a rare case, Bresson emerges in his first feature already a masterful filmmaker.  His style is not yet fully formed, that would not happen until his third feature, but his understanding and command of the medium's power are fully present.  

Although I imagine there is a way to view the film, being that it was made in 1943, as a film of resistance, I experienced it at face value as a film of faith.  As such, it demonstrates faith as well as anything I have seen on film.  Bresson finds the cinematic tools to make us understand certain beliefs, such as sacrificing worldly materials to attain a true spiritual state, that in less skilled hands would leave us unmoved and unenlightened.  I experienced the film not only as a film about faith but as an indication of Bresson's faith in the medium of cinema to plumb the depths of human experience and to emerge with emotions of a deep spiritual and intellectual revelatory power.

10/23/22 I watched Billy Wilder's Five Graves to Cairo.  One of Wilder's first American films, made before Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard.  Showing up on Rosenbaum's extended 1000+ essential films, it is not surprising that Rosenbaum was a fan.  He tends to champion films that take a more honest look at history and consistently places more importance on that aspect of a film than whether it is entertaining, moving or stylish.  I have never seen a mid-war propaganda film that was any more unflinching.  It seems so much of its time that you can still smell and taste the war on it.