Sunday, February 17, 2013

Feather-brained pow-wow

FRONTIER FUGITIVES (1945)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

One of the last films in the "Texas Ranger" series in the low-budget PRC (Producers Releasing Corporation) production line, "Frontier Fugitives" is the standard western tale told with very few dramatic flourishes, some bizarrely comical phoniness that could come out of Abbott and Costello, and a couple of memorable songs sung by Tex Ritter, John Ritter's dad. At less than one hour's time, there are worse ways to waste time.
Dave O'Brien
This time, the Texas Rangers (headed by Tex, Dave O'Brien and Guy Wilkerson) go after a gang that killed a fur trader. Wilkerson, who plays Panhandle Perkins, pretends to be an Indian Chief complete with full get-up, while one of the gang members try to go incognito as well. Amazing how easy it is to find Native American garb and play dress up and utter the stereotypical Indian catchphrases: "Me do some pow-wow." Veteran actor I. Stanford Jolley is one of the bad guys and has one of the least funny and incredibly offensive scenes where he performs an alleged comedy routine with Wilkerson as they pretend to be Native Americans doing a ceremonial dance and smoking a peace pipe. Too much pow-wow, too little humanity. And Native American groups had a problem with "The Searchers"?  

"Frontier Fugitives" is merely a diversion but it is a vacuum in terms of story or plot. Tex Ritter sings "Too Late to Worry, Too Blue to Cry" and "I'll Wait for You, Dear," there is a ridiculous shooting at a general store that shows Texas Rangers had no idea how to aim a gun before firing, and more singing. It is an absurd B-movie with little value beyond showing cowboys and Indians lollygagging. 

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Kubrick's Killer Instincts

KILLER'S KISS (1955)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
Stanley Kubrick's first foray into film noir, "Killer's Kiss," is acceptable and often crude but certainly an interesting experiment for the late master. Released in 1955, it did not cause much of a stir but it has an almost dreamlike vision of noir in its documentary-like staginess.

The film begins with voice-over narration by a Davy Gordon (Jamie Smith), a lonely New York boxer who seems rather unenthusiastic about his profession. Essentially, he seems tired of fighting, living an isolated existence in a low-rent, bland apartment. He is ready to leave for the farmlands of Seattle with his Uncle George. Across from his bedroom's window, he can see his neighbor Gloria (Irene Kane), a hostess for Pleasureland, a shabby dance hall that only seems to play the instrumental song "Once." Gloria's boss is Vincent Rapallo (Frank Silvera), a beastly, sad man who is also lonely and insecure. He sees himself as "low and worthless," and is unable to hold on to to the things he loves including Gloria.

One night, a scream is heard in Gloria's apartment, and Davy comes to the rescue. She was apparently attacked by Vincent, whom she wants out of her life. Naturally, Davy and Gloria get intimate and fall in love (rather abruptly, even for a noir tale like this one). Gloria wants to leave Rapallo and the dance hall but Rapallo's rage and jealousy grow stronger, resulting in an accidental murder and the kidnapping of Gloria.

This kind of tale has been told countless times before, and if you have seen "Double Indemnity," you'll have some idea of where the story is headed. Fortunately, Kubrick is a master stylist and employs effective use of shadows, and his screenplay evokes ironic twists of fate. The accidental murder is one brilliantly shot example where two henchmen walk through the inside staircase of the Pleasureland dance hall, ready to kill the man waiting outside the door while the sign "Watch Your Step" is seen overhead. There is also the voyeuristic use of mirrors, particularly Davy's apartment where the reflection in his mirror shows Gloria's nocturnal activities of undressing before her bedroom light is turned off. For Kubrick to show the drab surroundings of these three lead characters, including Rappalo, makes quite a statement about the post-war 1950's where farmlands were a dream to be pursued in lieu of the big city life.

"Killer's Kiss" is often awkwardly edited, with the exception of the climax set on the rooftops of loft buildings and a room full of mannequins. But there are also some terrific visceral moments backed by a tense jazz score, often the counterpoint of any scene involving the Pleasureland setting. One scene, quite avante-garde for its time, is shot as a negative leading to the aforementioned attack on Gloria.

Jamie Smith and Irene Kane are somewhat weak in their acting skills, but the two argument scenes between Irene and Silvera are marvelously dramatic and ironically funny. My favorite line is when Silvera says: "Like the man says, can happiness buy money?" Her response is: "Oh, and you are a comedian too. See what I am missing." There is no question that the best performance is by Silvera as Rapallo, showing a side of pathetic weakness crossed with rage and contempt for his persona. When Gloria refers to him as "an old man who smells bad," you can almost feel his temperature rising.

If nothing else, at a breezy 67 minutes, "Killer's Kiss" is required viewing for anyone who is a Kubrick fan or interested in film noir. It is heavily flawed but often entertaining enough to warrant a viewing. It became the stepping stone to Kubrick's greatness as seen in the far superior "The Killing" (released the following year) and, well, the rest is history.

Menace to Society

CAPE FEAR (1962)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
J. Lee Thompson's "Cape Fear," based on John D. McDonald's "The Executioners," is one of those lurid melodramas of the early 60's that caused a stir in the American public for its view of the destruction of the nuclear family by some menace. Okay, that is perhaps a bit harsh but nonetheless true since it represents a squeaky clean family with no scruples or flaws hunted and sullied by a relentless, evil force. And even today, there are scenes in Thompson's film that still terrify.

Gregory Peck is Samuel Bowden, an illustrious lawyer with a devoted wife (Polly Bergen) and a simply delightful daughter (Loni Martin), who loves her puppy dog. What we are seeing is a perfectly goody-goody family that would be at home on "Leave it to Beaver." Before long, an ex-convict named Max Cady (Robert Mitchum) begins stalking Sam. Apparently, Sam had been a witness and testified against Cady who had attacked some girl and served a long jail sentence as a result. Cady is mad and wants revenge and, with oozing menace, suggests that he will go after Sam's wife and daughter.

"Cape Fear" is essentially a standard crime thriller with overtones of noir in its shadowy black-and-white look. Noir often involves fatalistic heroes and Sam is one to an extent - he and his family cannot escape Cady's wrath. Sam can't do anything legally since Cady is always one step ahead of him on the legal meter. After Sam's daughter is supposedly chased by Cady and and is almost run over by a car, Sam calls on a private detective and hires men to beat some sense into this relentless madman. That does not work either and, finally, the family relocates to a houseboat at the Cape Fear River to trap Cady and kill him.

One major difference between the original and the Scorsese remake is Samuel Bowden's moral character. Peck's Bowden is a righteous man who does take the law into his own hands and is practically disbarred from law practice. Still, there is no way one can find his actions immoral since he has to protect his family. All Sam did was rat on Cady for a crime he witnessed. Cady wants revenge for all the years he was in prison, period. In Scorsese's film, Sam Bowden is a flawed man who did not protect his client, Cady, and had evidence that would have resulted in a shorter prison term for the convict. Essentially, Bowden committed an immoral act by withholding the evidence and has to pay the price. It is the difference of thirty years in film time and how attitudes and values have changed.

If I was alive in 1962 and saw this film, I would have scoffed at the depiction of this wholesome family with nary a trace of negativity. Just two years prior, we had Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho," which featured a less than wholesome heroine at its forefront (Janet Leigh) whose sins are washed away during a brutal shower murder. "Psycho" cut the innocence of the 1950's with its brutality and shocking depiction of a clever psychopath. "Cape Fear" wants to pretend that innocence prevails over evil anyday. Somehow, Cady's evil seems less than cunning or stinging with poison the way one would hope. I never got the impression that Cady's attacks were as severe as one would think (with the exception of the unseen violence towards a club girl). The moment where Bowden's daughter runs around the school thinking Cady is chasing her when, in fact, he was standing outside the school gates the whole time ruins the tension a tad. He instills fear in them but it is not as viscerally felt as it should have been. A title like "Cape Fear" should be ablaze with tension and thrills. I mostly got chills through Robert Mitchum's splendid performance but nothing more. J. Lee Thompson tends to hold back often, which may be a result of the Production Code that would not even allow the word "rape" to be said in a film.

On the plus side, the film is taut for the most part and has decent performances by Martin Balsam as the chief of police, Telly Savalas in pre-"Kojak" mode as the private detective, and Jack Gruschen as Cady's righteous lawyer who is dismayed by Bowden's actions. But it is a delight to see Robert Mitchum as the sleazy, muscular, sarcastic Max Cady going against the stolid, serious-minded Gregory Peck. The finale at the houseboat is especially stirring. When you see Cady slapping and smearing himself against poor Polly Bergen, you can feel some real heat and tension and, yes, a literal slap across familial innocence.