One would normally not think of Billy Wilder and Michael Curtiz together, but both were from Austria-Hungary and had significant directing careers in the U.S. Wilder is well-known for such caustic films as Double Indemnity (1944) and The Apartment (1960)and while one often hears of Casablanca (1942) as a favorite film not many people can tell you it was directed by Michael Curtiz, who had a long career in Hollywood. I recently watched The Strange Love of Molly Louvain (one of four films Curtiz directed in 1932) and Avanti (1972) and, though I am generally a "splitter" and not a "lumper" I did find interesting similarities in these films, made 40 years apart. Both films deal with class and betrayal, common themes for both these directors. In the Curtiz film a shopgirl plans to marry a wealthy man, is abandoned by him and has his child out of wedlock, takes up with a gangster and ends up with a reporter, who had betrayed her by broadcasting a false report that her child was ill. In Avanti a wealthy businessman comes to Ischia to recover his father's body and ends up having an affair with the shopgirl who came to recover her mother's body: her mother and his father had been meeting for a month once a year for ten years and by the end of the film it looks as if the daughter and the son will be doing the same. Both films are shot mainly in interiors and emphasize the growing relationship of the lovers.
The Curtiz film is considered pre-Code, before the restrictions of the Production Code were enforced, with Ann Dvorak shown several times in her underwear. Avanti is post-Code, with the nudity allowed after the Code was no longer enforced. Curtiz's film stars the intense and effective Dvorak, who seldom received the roles she deserved (I first discovered her in the later Albert Lewin film, The Private Affairs of Bel Ami, 1947 , where she was intelligent and assertive) while the Wilder film stars Juliet Mills, who had a very limited film career. Strange Love ... is breezy and fast (72 minutes), in the pre-Code Warner Brothers style, while Avanti runs 2 hours and 24 minutes, both films taking the amount of time they need to tell their stories. Avanti is an amusing comedy with melodramatic elements,a relatively mellow film very much in the tradition of Lubitsch, a continuation of Love in the Afternoon (1957); The Strange Love of Molly Louvain is a melodrama with comedic elements, especially in the reporter-The Front Page sections (one of Wilder's last films was The Front Page,1974)
One additional point about Avanti: I watched it with my wife Susan and 16-year-old son Gideon and we all found things in it --sometimes the same things, sometimes different things -- to enjoy, even if in different ways. This significant appeal of the classical cinema is practically extinct.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
Cy Endfield's The Underworld Story
It's unclear how important a title is, but Endfield's work suffers from bad titles: The Underworld Story (1950) is not about the underworld, and his powerful film about lynching is now apparently known as Try and Get Me (1950), after originally being titled Sound of Fury; neither title is particularly good. Enfield was eventually blacklisted and moved to England, where he fortunately hooked up with Stanley Baker to make some good films. But there is still much to be said about Endfield's contributions to film noir, as well contributions by others on the left (Losey, Polonsky, et al.)
The Underworld Story stars the always-sleazy Dan Duryea, who manipulates a murder suspect the way Kirk Douglas manipulates a man caught in a mining collapse in Ace in the Hole (1951): to sell newspapers. Endfield's film is even more cynical than Wilder's, with rival newspapers grinding their own axes and manipulating the news, as a newspaper tycoon's son tries to frame a an African-American maid for a murder he committed, and Duryea raises money for the defense which he then splits with the lawyer. The film, with cinematography by Stanley Cortez (who did The Magnificent Ambersons and Night of the Hunter), captures the glittery surface of a small town, underneath which the locals are always hunting for witches. There are numerous references to slavery and witch-hunts and all the hypocrisies Americans were subject to then and often still are today, as prominent businessmen quickly change sides when they find out on which side their bread is buttered.
The Underworld Story stars the always-sleazy Dan Duryea, who manipulates a murder suspect the way Kirk Douglas manipulates a man caught in a mining collapse in Ace in the Hole (1951): to sell newspapers. Endfield's film is even more cynical than Wilder's, with rival newspapers grinding their own axes and manipulating the news, as a newspaper tycoon's son tries to frame a an African-American maid for a murder he committed, and Duryea raises money for the defense which he then splits with the lawyer. The film, with cinematography by Stanley Cortez (who did The Magnificent Ambersons and Night of the Hunter), captures the glittery surface of a small town, underneath which the locals are always hunting for witches. There are numerous references to slavery and witch-hunts and all the hypocrisies Americans were subject to then and often still are today, as prominent businessmen quickly change sides when they find out on which side their bread is buttered.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
The Noir Forties. The American People from Victory to Cold War by Richard Lingeman
Films Noir, more faithfully than other kinds of films, reflected the personal anxieties of the late forties. They vacuumed up the psychological detritus swirling in the air, the velleities, secret wishes, criminal thoughts, unspoken fears, dream images of the time.
Richard Lingeman, The Noir Forties (Nation Books, 2012).
Lingeman's use of the somewhat unusual word velleities here (from the Latin for "wish") is just a small example of how Lingeman takes the intelligence of his readers for granted, even in a day when fewer and fewer people study Latin. The opening and closing chapters of this book are the most personal, as Lingeman tells us of his time in Army Counter Intelligence in Japan, during and after the Korean War; they read almost like a Samuel Fuller film of East/West confrontation. In between he gives us a political and cultural history of the forties, with examples from radio producers such as Norman Corwin, pulp writers such as David Goodis and Cornell Woolrich (both of whom had a big influence on films), musicians such as Spade Cooley and Lionel Hampton and even Abstract Expressionists such as Jackson Pollock (who paradoxically was mocked by conservative critics but touted abroad as an example of American freedom). But his primary cultural reference is films noir, many directed by German and Austrian emigres: Siodmak, Wilder, Ulmer, Lang. Lingeman is particularly good at demonstrating the fears of death and fate found in such under-the-radar films as Ulmer's Detour and Mate's D.O.A. In the latter film Frank Bigelow has discovered that he is dying from a slow-acting poison and when he dashes into the street he sees a little girl playing with a ball and lovers kissing, and he knows that he will never have a lover or children (this is beautifully shown with just his facial expression, no dialogue necessary). This embodies the anxiety of the time (1950): we have just lost 400,000 Americans in a war and are now under the shadow of the atomic bomb; it might even be a metaphor for the internal communist threat.
Again, Lingeman trusts the intelligence of the reader to realize how much of what happened just after the war led to the troubles of today, as the same mistakes continue to be repeated; though now we are afraid of Islamic terrorists rather than Nazis or Communists and we are still afraid of the tabs the NSA and the FBI are keeping on us. When I was in elementary school we were told to behave or else many years later the FBI could keep us from getting a job when they found out about our 4th grade defiance! The union-busters in Congress led to the gradual weakening of unions and the increasing of inequality today; the red-flag term "socialized medicine" (and "socialism equals communism") keeps us from having decent health care even now; the Truman Doctrine of the forties is still essentially in force today, as we continue to try to use military force -- in Vietnam, Iraq, et al. -- instead of supporting economic and military reform.
Lingeman is one of our best cultural historians, with biographies of Dreiser and Sinclair Lewis and the perceptive Small Town America. I hope his incisive exploration of films noir and the forties is followed with The Red-Baiting Fifties, including film directors such as Nicholas Ray and Douglas Sirk, who dug beneath the surface of those not-so-placid years.
Richard Lingeman, The Noir Forties (Nation Books, 2012).
Lingeman's use of the somewhat unusual word velleities here (from the Latin for "wish") is just a small example of how Lingeman takes the intelligence of his readers for granted, even in a day when fewer and fewer people study Latin. The opening and closing chapters of this book are the most personal, as Lingeman tells us of his time in Army Counter Intelligence in Japan, during and after the Korean War; they read almost like a Samuel Fuller film of East/West confrontation. In between he gives us a political and cultural history of the forties, with examples from radio producers such as Norman Corwin, pulp writers such as David Goodis and Cornell Woolrich (both of whom had a big influence on films), musicians such as Spade Cooley and Lionel Hampton and even Abstract Expressionists such as Jackson Pollock (who paradoxically was mocked by conservative critics but touted abroad as an example of American freedom). But his primary cultural reference is films noir, many directed by German and Austrian emigres: Siodmak, Wilder, Ulmer, Lang. Lingeman is particularly good at demonstrating the fears of death and fate found in such under-the-radar films as Ulmer's Detour and Mate's D.O.A. In the latter film Frank Bigelow has discovered that he is dying from a slow-acting poison and when he dashes into the street he sees a little girl playing with a ball and lovers kissing, and he knows that he will never have a lover or children (this is beautifully shown with just his facial expression, no dialogue necessary). This embodies the anxiety of the time (1950): we have just lost 400,000 Americans in a war and are now under the shadow of the atomic bomb; it might even be a metaphor for the internal communist threat.
Again, Lingeman trusts the intelligence of the reader to realize how much of what happened just after the war led to the troubles of today, as the same mistakes continue to be repeated; though now we are afraid of Islamic terrorists rather than Nazis or Communists and we are still afraid of the tabs the NSA and the FBI are keeping on us. When I was in elementary school we were told to behave or else many years later the FBI could keep us from getting a job when they found out about our 4th grade defiance! The union-busters in Congress led to the gradual weakening of unions and the increasing of inequality today; the red-flag term "socialized medicine" (and "socialism equals communism") keeps us from having decent health care even now; the Truman Doctrine of the forties is still essentially in force today, as we continue to try to use military force -- in Vietnam, Iraq, et al. -- instead of supporting economic and military reform.
Lingeman is one of our best cultural historians, with biographies of Dreiser and Sinclair Lewis and the perceptive Small Town America. I hope his incisive exploration of films noir and the forties is followed with The Red-Baiting Fifties, including film directors such as Nicholas Ray and Douglas Sirk, who dug beneath the surface of those not-so-placid years.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Mrs. Miniver and The Nun's Story
I made this picture and I didn't know what I was doing.
--William Wyler on Mrs. Miniver (1942)
His neatness and decorum constitute his greatest artistic defects.
--Andrew Sarris on Fred Zinnemann, The American Cinema; Directors and Directions 1929-1968 (The University of Chicago Press 1968).
Wyler and Zinnemann are listed in Sarris's book as "less than meets the eye." Also included in this category is Billy Wilder, whom Sarris threatened to move to a more positive category, possibly because of the beautiful, funny, and not-so-cynical movies Wilder made after Sarris's book was published: The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970) and Avanti (1972). But Wyler and Zimmerman never redeemed themselves. I would like to say, however, in this day and age when my local movie house shows mostly crude animation, violent action and horror, and unfunny gross comedies the civilized dramas of Wyler and Zinnemann give one much pleasure. I recently watched Wyler's Mrs. Miniver and Zinnemann's The Nun's Story on Turner Classic movies and was impressed by the grace under pressure of the title characters: Greer Garson confronting a Nazi in her British kitchen and Audrey Hepburn confronting her doubts in Africa. Nor should one forget that Wyler and Zinnemann made some exciting pictures before they got bogged down in epics during the demise of the studio system. Wyler made Dodsworth, an intelligent and moving film about marriage and fidelity (1936 from the Sinclair Lewis novel) and the delightfully droll The Good Fairy (1935, from a Preston Sturges script), while Zinnemann made the sensitive films Act of Violence(1950) and The Men(1950), both dealing with the dark aftermath of WWII.
--William Wyler on Mrs. Miniver (1942)
His neatness and decorum constitute his greatest artistic defects.
--Andrew Sarris on Fred Zinnemann, The American Cinema; Directors and Directions 1929-1968 (The University of Chicago Press 1968).
Wyler and Zinnemann are listed in Sarris's book as "less than meets the eye." Also included in this category is Billy Wilder, whom Sarris threatened to move to a more positive category, possibly because of the beautiful, funny, and not-so-cynical movies Wilder made after Sarris's book was published: The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970) and Avanti (1972). But Wyler and Zimmerman never redeemed themselves. I would like to say, however, in this day and age when my local movie house shows mostly crude animation, violent action and horror, and unfunny gross comedies the civilized dramas of Wyler and Zinnemann give one much pleasure. I recently watched Wyler's Mrs. Miniver and Zinnemann's The Nun's Story on Turner Classic movies and was impressed by the grace under pressure of the title characters: Greer Garson confronting a Nazi in her British kitchen and Audrey Hepburn confronting her doubts in Africa. Nor should one forget that Wyler and Zinnemann made some exciting pictures before they got bogged down in epics during the demise of the studio system. Wyler made Dodsworth, an intelligent and moving film about marriage and fidelity (1936 from the Sinclair Lewis novel) and the delightfully droll The Good Fairy (1935, from a Preston Sturges script), while Zinnemann made the sensitive films Act of Violence(1950) and The Men(1950), both dealing with the dark aftermath of WWII.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Richmond County Bank Ballpark at St. George, Aug. 4, 2014
We were pleased to see that The Staten Island Yankees had a game scheduled for 11 AM on Aug. 4, a scheduling time that I'm sure was for the benefit of the many campers who were there, though for us it was a convenient time that still allowed us time to pick up our daughter from daycare. We took the Staten Island Ferry to the game, the stadium being just a short walk from the ferry terminal, and were able to get the seats in the shade that we requested. Pros of the day included good seats for $15, comfortable weather, with a nice breeze coming off the bay, and a good game. Cons of the day included the endless blaring rock music, even between batters, that made it difficult to discuss the game; the beauty of the game itself seems insufficient to attract enough fans. There was even a regular "hoochie coochie" show on top of the dugouts between innings, courtesy of the Pinstripe Patrol dancers. But this is common these days, even at major league parks, and a relatively small price to pay. The food is even acceptable, reasonably priced with short lines, and the bathrooms are relatively clean and convenient.
The Staten Island Yankees played the Auburn Doubledays, a farm team of the Washington Nationals. The league is the New York-Penn League, an A league that also includes the Brooklyn Cyclones (a Mets farm team), A being the lowest league (with the exception of the rookie leagues) and most of the players are right out of school. These players lack polish, but what they lack in skill they make up for in enthusiasm. The game was long, three hours and forty-five minutes; there were nine pitchers used (none went more than four innings) and there were several errors, with the Doubledays tying the game with two out in the ninth and winning in the tenth inning. It is hard to judge at this level who might make the majors, since there is still so much to be learned: the pitchers went deep into the count and the batters swung at bad pitches. Even with a lower skill level, with some botched plays and errant throws, the game maintains its geometric beauty. As for those who don't care so much about the beauty of the game, they can watch the antics of the mascot, Scooter the Holy Cow, or just watch the freighters and tugboats in the New York Bay, just beyond the outfield fences.
The Staten Island Yankees played the Auburn Doubledays, a farm team of the Washington Nationals. The league is the New York-Penn League, an A league that also includes the Brooklyn Cyclones (a Mets farm team), A being the lowest league (with the exception of the rookie leagues) and most of the players are right out of school. These players lack polish, but what they lack in skill they make up for in enthusiasm. The game was long, three hours and forty-five minutes; there were nine pitchers used (none went more than four innings) and there were several errors, with the Doubledays tying the game with two out in the ninth and winning in the tenth inning. It is hard to judge at this level who might make the majors, since there is still so much to be learned: the pitchers went deep into the count and the batters swung at bad pitches. Even with a lower skill level, with some botched plays and errant throws, the game maintains its geometric beauty. As for those who don't care so much about the beauty of the game, they can watch the antics of the mascot, Scooter the Holy Cow, or just watch the freighters and tugboats in the New York Bay, just beyond the outfield fences.
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