Favorite (four), part eleven

Just like in my other ten 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).

Irving Lerner's Murder by Contract
Another Scorsese favorite, this noir is utterly unique in terms of its tone. Much of its difference comes from its Flamenco-like score that gives the film a very offbeat, bouncy and buoyant feel, in the midst of a good amount of darkness.  Vince Edwards gives a tremendous performance, and although spare and lean, the production always feels formally clean and clear.   A very strong, lesser-known work.  

Charles Ferguson's Inside Job
It's a powerful and utterly disturbing portrait of the events that led to 2008's global recession.  Ferguson explains some of the chief causes in a very lucid manner, and he presents a very passionate attack on America's financial services industry.  Whether or not you agree with all that he has to say, I would say this is a must-see, simply for the opportunity to get a further look at many of the chief players.  

Roberto Rossellini's The Rise of Louis XIV

The first of Rossellini's historical dramas that I've seen, and it takes awhile to get used to this later style and period of the great director.  But it snakes its way around, accumulating historical import, and by the end, it finds its emotional highpoint.  Another transcendent and powerful work by one of cinema's most unusual and rigorous stylists.   

Adam Yauch's Fight for Your Right Revisited

I would think any major Beastie Boys fan (I would have to put myself in that group) would find this a welcome reminder of what makes the group so important.  There is something so anti-authoritarian and fly in the face of any form of political correctness no matter how old the boys become and how many years they put out music.  Their presence in music, and culture, always seem timely and progressive, yet while remaining true to the brand they have built from day one.     

15 Directors

Like my previous Albums and Movies post, I jumped on the 15 directors note that was floating around Facebook. Here was my crack at it:

1. Jean-Luc Godard
2. Howard Hawks
3. Raoul Walsh
4. David Gordon Green
5. Robert Bresson
6. Jean Renoir
7. Abbas Kiarostami
8. William Friedkin
9. Michael Mann
10. George Cukor
11. Brian De Palma
12. Andrew Bujalski
13. Roberto Rossellini
14. Hal Ashby
15. Wim Wenders

1954: The Barefoot Contessa (Joseph Mankiewicz)

1954: The Barefoot Contessa (Joseph Mankiewicz)
I'm not sure I've ever met anyone that likes this movie as much as I do. I wish that weren't the case, but what can I really do about it?

I mentioned in an earlier post that two of my favorite themes on screen are friendship and loyalty, and that's what really gets me here.  It's the friendship that Humphrey Bogart shows Ava Gardner, and his loyalty towards her, that I find so deep and moving.  In fact, it's probably my favorite purely platonic male-female relationship in the history of film.

It's Humphrey at the end of his career, wise and settled in this very powerful way.  And, Ava Gardner, who I think is as beautiful as anyone I've ever seen.  Also, of note, are the colors and the grand sense of tragedy that Mankiewicz creates around it all.  

Another one I'd take on a desert island with me.  Be a great one to have, too!  If a stranger shows up, they probably wouldn't even want it.

Other contenders for 1954: A year, like any other, where I still have some things I need to see.  These include:  Luis Bunuel's Wuthering Heights, John Sturges' Bad Day at Black Rock, Andre De Toth's Crime Wave, Richard Quine's Drive a Crooked Road, Allan Dwan's Silver Lode, Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar, Kenji Mizoguchi's Sansho the Bailiff, William Wellman's Track of the Cat, and Josef von Sternberg's The Saga of Anatahan.  I really need to re-watch both Henri-Georges Clouzot's Les diaboliques and Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samourai.  It's been too long since I saw either of them to know where they would place on a favorites list.  Even with all these gaps though, there are still some films to mention.  I really like Otto Preminger's River of No Return and Anthony Mann's The Far Country.  I love Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront, George Cukor's A Star Is Born, and Jacques Becker's Grisbi.  But my closest runner-up is Roberto Rossellini's Voyage in Italy.

2/11/11 I watched William Wellman's Track of the Cat.  The fact that this is on Jonathan Rosenbaum's top 100 films of all time list makes me a little more skeptical of the great critic's taste.  Mitchum turns in a strong performance, and there is a decent allegorial weight to it all.  But much of it feels too theatrical for my liking, and with just mediocre Val Lewton-type suggestion.  

2/18/11 I watched Allan Dwan's Silver Lode.  Allegorical with some nice expressionistic touches from Dwan and Alton.  Just wish the execution was a little more subtle and the atmosphere more carefully and subtly handled.  

2/19/11 I watched Kenji Mizoguchi's Sansho the Bailiff.  Mizoguchi has a darker, more violent streak than Ozu, and his films can be rough where Ozu's are soft.  Heavy metal to Brit pop if you will.  But he's also a humanist.  And that comes through in this hefty work.  Mizoguchi feels very modern and masterful when it comes to dealing with non-linear structure, and certain moments, like when the mom and children are separated by boat, pack a real power.  Not fully felt for me but appreciated with the utmost respect.   

2/25/11 I watched Andre De Toth's Crime Wave.  The real stars here are the city of Los Angeles and a bunch of delicious character actors (particularly Jay Novello, Tim Carey, and Charles Bronson).   De Toth keeps things spare and taut, but a few times some inventive camerawork sneaks in.  Meanwhile the noir atmosphere never falters.   An exceptional example of B-noir.  Flawed, certainly, but an unusually strong outing.   

11/15/11 I watched Roberto Rossellini's Dov'e la liberta...?  A strange Rossellini that feels more Felliniesque than the work of the master of restrained and austere.  Almost felt like a made-for-hire.  

3/16/13 I watched Roberto Rossellini's La Paura. Bergman is wonderful as always, and it's interesting to see Rossellini doing noir. But the script is a bit lackluster at times. Particularly, without Rossellini's transcendent ending, the whole things ends up leaving a bland taste on the buds.  

10/11/13 I watched Douglas Sirk's Magnificent Obsession.  My first time with this well-known Sirk, and it certainly is as loony as I heard whisperings of.  But Sirk gives it tragic depth and keeps the emotion swirling and somehow manages to transform seemingly insane form (garish music and color) and content (plotting that no one in their right mind would ever consider plausible) into something uniquely wonderful.  Although I still prefer Written as it seems perhaps a little more restrained in its content and outlandish in its form, Magnificent deserves a place all its own. 

11/2/13 I watched Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar.  Feverish with Ray's unique emotionalism and spatial mastery on grand display.  Crawford is as powerful as ever, and this western is a world all its own.  It's pulp, melodrama, and baroque art.  It's no surprise this film enjoys such a major reputation - it's a wonderful piece of work by a great filmmaker. 

11/24/13 I watched Richard Quine's Drive a Crooked Road.  A very effective noir featuring the best and most natural Rooney performance I have seen.  Traces of the film show up in Lost Highway and possibly even Drive.  Cold, tight, and full-blooded noir, Quine might not be as harsh as Lang or Ray but he is courageous in his depiction of the femme fatale and seems at ease no matter how fatalistic the plot and the characters become.  

10/3/20 I watched Herbert Biberman's Salt of the Earth.  From a historical standpoint, it is a completely fascinating film.  I can't recall an earlier American work that bears so much Italian neorealist ethos.  While perhaps not always cinematically of the greatest interest, it is bold in the subject matter it tackles, particularly that of sexual equality.

2/2/23 I watched Robert Wise's Executive Suite.  Wise could very well be an unfair victim of the auteur theory.  Although I have seen no where near his entire body of work, I'm a huge fan of The Set-Up and really like The Day the Earth Stood Still.  I watched this because it's one of Rosenbaum's 1000 essential films and man is it good.  It's unique in its exploration of corporate America and seems like a clear predecessor to Lumet's 12 Angry Men.  

1949: Jour de fete (Jacques Tati)

1949: Jour de fete (Jacques Tati)

The only time I ever saw this was its "Color Premiere" in France in 1995.  Tati wanted it to be the first French feature shot in color, but technology at the time wouldn't allow him to release it that way. Fortunately, he also shot a black-and-white version, and that's all that existed from 1949-1995.  

I've never seen the black-and-white version so I can't say with certainty, but it is one of these films where I really remember the colors.  I can only think this film's impact and power grew once the re-release happened (it was Tati's daughter, by the way, that did the restoration.)

This is definitely a sibling film for me to Welles' The Magnificent Ambersons.  Tati always seemed to have a fascination with the negative effects of technology.  But of all his work I've seen, this one affects me the most.  Like Ambersons, this movie is obsessed with the idea of our world getting faster and faster, and the dehumanization that comes with choosing this direction.  

As I hinted at in my Ambersons post, at this point in my career, this theme is probably more important to me than any other.  And Tati gets at it in his own special way, with humor, satire, and in a brilliant style that he made all his own.

Other contenders for 1949: As with other years, there are still some major titles I need to see.  These include: Joseph Mankiewicz's House of Strangers, Jean Cocteau's Orphee, Yasujiro Ozu's Late Spring, Max Ophuls' Caught, Jacques Tati's L'ecole des facteurs, John Ford's She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, Max Ophuls' The Reckless Moment, and Michael Powell's The Small Back Room.  Joseph Lewis' Gun Crazy is another one of these films that I really need to revisit.  The first time I saw it, it did not have the impact I would have expected.  This year, there are so many films that I like I have decided to create three tiers of runners-up:  films that I really like, films that I love, and films that are extremely close runners-up.  The films that I really like are: Howard Hawks' I Was a War Male Bride, Jacques Becker's Rendez-vous de juillet, Carol Reed's The Third Man, and Raoul Walsh's White Heat. The films that I love are: George Cukor's Adam's Rib, Jules Dassin's Thieves' Highway and Robert Wise's The Set-Up.  Finally, the four films that would most challenge for my top pick are Robert Siodmak's Criss Cross, Ted Tetzlaff's The Window, Roberto Rossellini's Stromboli, and William Wyler's The Heiress.  

10/23/10 I watched John Ford's She Wore A Yellow Ribbon.  A film with great reverence for the US cavalry and one that teaches and reminds us of an important part of ourselves.  But Ford gives it, at times, a little too much corniness for my liking and like some of Ford's other work, it can devolve into a cloying exuberance and boisterousness.  

10/27/10 I watched Joseph Mankiewicz's House of Strangers.  Conte's great and so is Edward G Robinson (in fact, they both deliver two of their more memorable performances).  Also another key link to The Godfather and Mean Streets.  Doesn't always hum and stay on track, but at times it's downright classic.  

11/5/10 I watched Jean Cocteau's Orphee.  A strange film with some beautiful, poetic touches where Cocteau demonstrates that he's an inventive and lyrical stylist.  But I never fully connected to it in the way that I might have hoped.  

11/14/10 I watched Michael Powell's The Small Back Room.  Lacks most of the verve and fun of some of my other favorite Powell films. Overall pretty disappointing.

11/21/10 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's Late Spring.  Another extraordinarily tender and wise film about  life, relationships, and personal growth and evolution.  Ozu keeps things minimal and spare, as usual.  But whenever he goes outside he reminds us of his strong connection to nature and tremendous feeling and eye for the outdoors. Soft but packs a punch.  

3/14/11 I watched Max Ophuls' Caught.  Ophuls shows at times his gift at creating space and moving the camera.  But the script's creaky in this one, and all in all, I found it to be only a mediocre noir.

3/17/11 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Under Capricorn.  Has anyone endured more psychological torment on screen than Ingrid Bergman? Just Gaslight, Europa '51, and this film alone might earn her the top spot.  She's excellent here, as always.  And this is an unusually oblique piece from Hitch with some of his most expressive camerawork ever. However, Michael Wilding seems wrong for the role.  Too loose when paired alongside two of the most contained actors in the history of cinema -- Cotten and Bergman.  

7/2/11 I watched Robert Hamer's Kind Hearts and Coronets.  Dry and sometimes quite funny, in a very British way.  Also shows off Alec Guinness' extraordinary talents.  But it's too deliberate and clean in ways as to come fully alive.  

10/5/14 I watched Raoul Walsh's Colorado Territory.  A western remake of Walsh's great High Sierra enjoys a strong reputation and it has some wonderful moments even if I much prefer the original Walsh noir.  Mayo grates on me more than I find her appealing and the plot sometimes seem to lose some of its urgency and thrust.  Of great interest though is the final murder which seems unusually violent for its era and a true precursor for Penn's finale twenty years later in Bonnie and Clyde.  

4/4/15 I watched Joseph Mankiewicz's A Letter to Three Wives.  As is usual with Mankiewicz the writing is intelligent and the direction is classy and there seems to be a real interest in emphasizing the female point of view.  And even though this one gets at some interesting emotional topics such as marital insecurity, I never was as fully captured in it like I have been with some of the director's other work.

3/25/16 I watched Akira Kurosawa's Stray Dog.  Kurosawa does noir and he does it fairly well.  But it is too long, too meandering and for the most part less raw than the best films of the genre.  

1/15/18 I watched Nicholas Ray's Knock on Any Door.  Very bottom shelf Ray that never transcends the genre of noir or courthouse drama or even rises close to the level of the genre's just very good films.  

7/3/22 I watched Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen's On the Town.  Most impressive is the way it feels to be dissecting the musical genre, stripping it away and distilling it into something more spare, more modern.  The characters nor the musical numbers are nowhere near as memorable as the team's effort three years later with Singing in the Rain. 

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.  

1945: Les dames du bois de Boulogne (Robert Bresson)

1945: Les dames du bois de Boulogne (Robert Bresson)
You will all have to excuse me a little with this one.  I'm completely writing from memory.  I've only seen this once, and it was probably ten years ago as part of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art's Bresson retrospective.  

Here's what I remember though.  I have never seen a film from a director that I consider a master that felt so unlike the rest of their work. In fact, the film felt more like a long lost Renoir film or something Cukor would have done.  It was verbose, moving, funny (did I really use that adjective with Bresson?), and romantic.  I absolutely loved it.  If memory serves me right, it felt a bit like this unusual hybrid of The Rules of the Game and Letter from an Unknown Woman.


I'm not sure this one is terribly easy to find, but it's more than worth a look, even for those that think of Bresson as simply an austere bore.  

Other contenders for 1945: Here's another year where I still have quite a few things to see.  The major films are:  Jacques Becker's Falbalas, Vincente Minnelli's The Clock, John Ford's They Were Expendable, Michael Powell's I Know Where I'm Going!, Elia Kazan's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, King Vidor's Duel in the Sun, Robert Wise's The Body Snatcher, and Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound.  Since Jean Renoir's La Chienne is one of my favorite films of all time, I've always struggled a little with the Fritz Lang remake, Scarlet Street.  A film I once saw at Eddie Muller's annual Festival of Film Noir in Los Angeles has always stayed with me.  That film is John Brahm's Hangover Square, featuring a haunting performance by Laird Cregar and a wonderful score by Bernard Herrmann.  I don't absolutely love John Stahl's Leave Her to Heaven, but there are several things about it that I'll never be able to shake, and I feel similarly about Roberto Rossellini's important film Open City.  The only true runner-up for me this year would be Jean Renoir's The Southerner.  I wouldn't argue that it's a top-tier Renoir, but it does have a great deal of heart and definitely works nicely for me. 


10/4/10 I watched John Ford's They Were Expendable.  Some poetic moments, as always with the cinema of Ford.  But this one I could never completely connect to, perhaps due to some of the more overt propagandistic elements or the ambling nature of the storytelling.  


10/6/10 I watched Vincente Minnelli's The Clock.  Well-intentioned but never fully felt for me.  Most of this stems from the odd chemistry between Walker and Garland.  Whereas I found Garland as charming as ever, I couldn't ever quite shake my own relation to Walker from Hitch's Strangers on a Train.  He seems perfectly well suited to play the villain but a real stretch as a leading man.  


10/7/10 I watched King Vidor's Duel in the Sun.  Melodramatic and very much a Selznick production but also quite raw and effective at times.  Sure, it can be overblown, but Selznick goes for it and pulls out all the stops, and the movie stands out for its reckless abandon.  Of particular note are the final four or five minutes where Selznick takes the relationship between Peck and Jones to great extremes.  


10/9/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound.  Ingrid Bergman is as beautiful as ever, and Dali's dream sequence delivers on the hype. But this one's a bit too heavy on the psychobabble, and I never found myself caring that much about the plot nor the characters.  Marnie, for me, is a far stronger Hitch exploration of some similar thematics.  

10/11/10 I watched Michael Powell's I Know Where I'm Going!  Powell's style is vital, loose, and whimsical, and it allows him to create a very unique tone.  I'm not always with him here, but all in all, I very much enjoyed the ride. 

12/30/12 I watched Elia Kazan's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  Kazan, of course, pulls some great performances, most admirably from young Peggy Ann Garner.  But the story creaks more than it could and suffocates more than enlightens.

8/1/13 I watched Raoul Walsh's The Horn Blows at Midnight.  Walsh proves, like Hawks, that he was very capable in a variety of different genres.  His visual gags perhaps lack timing, seeming on occasion to overstay their welcome, but he keeps everything tonally even, snappy, and makes an unusually fun farcical comedy.  And Benny is just absolutely wonderful.

6/9/14 I watched Vincente Minnelli's Yolanda and the Thief.  Interesting that this was made in 1945.  I watched it not knowing its production date but would have placed it ten years later.  So perhaps it is innovative in its abstractness and its expressive use of Technicolor.  But from an emotional standpoint I struggled.  I never became all that invested in the Yolanda and Astaire's relationship and could never quite figure out how Minnelli wanted me to take it all.  As melodrama, camp or fantasy.  

6/4/17 I watched Edward Dmytryk's Cornered.  A pretty routine noir with a good Dick Powell but nothing super memorable.