Vincent Price is the chill in the air

 SHOCK (1946)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Vincent Price had the shock and awe of a feared presence whom we ought to be wary of. He was not a frightening monster to look at - he was handsome and had a rugged, delicate charm - yet it was that meticulously mellifluous voice that could either imply a cordial tone or something malevolent. Either way, Price unmistakably could bring a chill to the air in thrillers and horror. "Shock" is as mediocre and banal as any thriller yet Price does his best to elevate the "shock" value.

Janet (Anabel Shaw) is the wife of an army lieutenant husband who is awaiting his arrival at a San Francisco hotel. While staying overnight at the hotel, she witnesses a man clubbing his wife with a silver candlestick. She is horrified and is practically in a coma-like status. Her husband arrives and is "shocked" by her appearance. A certain doctor (Vincent Price) is consulted who has a room at the hotel and, surprise, he is the killer! Later on we get scenes at his sanitorium where he administers insulin shots to Janet with an evil plan to have her committed! 

Nothing in "Shock" is startling or inventive and it is mostly boring. Elaine Jordan (Lynn Bari) is the doctor's nurse and they are having an affair and there is that tingle of noirish feeling. Elaine wants the doctor to relax and is angered when he begins to develop a conscience. Even for an hour-long film, the film is deadening to a crawl and nothing here will keep you awake. Vincent Price is game for anything and is the best thing about this forgettable tripe. 

Cleopatra becomes one of them

 FREAKS (1932)
Retrospective by Jerry Saravia

To look at "Freaks," one presumes you look at the circus freaks depicted and are astonished and can't avert your eyes. The surprise in Tod Browning's film is that you are never astonished and you can't avert your eyes for other reasons - the "freaks" are seen as simple human beings with disabilities. Only point of contention is that they may stand out in a crowd but, to themselves, they are as normal as can be.

"Freaks" is engaging and never a freakshow of itself in its own right. Director Tod Browning (whose directorial career slowly ended after making such a controversial film) presents the circus freaks as people, human beings who are paid to perform and to be gawked at. It could be a half-man, half-woman (Josephine Joseph, who still seems more feminine than masculine), a bearded lady (Jane Barnell), a man without legs (Johnny Eck), another man who is a limbless torso (Prince Randian), the pinheads (the more appropriate term would be they suffer from microcephaly) who are like giggling children (Schlitzie is the most memorable), or the little people. They all have the same desires, the same problems, the same agonies as everyone else. Some are married and one, the bearded lady, gives birth. There is also the Siamese twin women (Daisy and Violet Hinson), both of whom feel the passion of a kiss from a gentleman - how is marriage going to work for these women? These "freaks" do not think of themselves as abnormal yet they see the evil that normal-looking people do. The real question is: who are the real freaks? 

After the duplicitous Russian trapeze artist Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova, devilishly good) decides to poison her newly-married husband, Hans (Harry Earles), the other circus members decide it is time to end Cleopatra's murderous impulses. Hercules (Henry Victor) is the strong man who has no scruples whatsoever, and clearly has an affair with Cleopatra (pre-Code films could only show some much sexuality). Cleopatra and Hercules sin mercilessly yet the beguiling Venus, a seal trainer (Leila Hyams), and Phroso, a clown (Wallace Ford), are normal with no disabilities and they are compassionate to the "freaks." They get along with them and treat them as family.

"Freaks" is not a masterpiece to me, it is often sloppily made and sloppily edited. Also, a good chunk of the film was excised - roughly 30 minutes - after some disastrous preview screenings. Still, the movie retains a raw, unfiltered power and explores a family dynamic in a community of people who do not judge, who do not discriminate. They are not grotesque these "freaks," only viewed and belittled by others who do judge, who do discriminate. In a creepy last scene of body horror, Cleopatra becomes the very thing the audience might have expected the circus folks to be - a grotesque, abnormal freak to be gawked at.    

Dead or Alive on a Caribbean Island

 I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (1943)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"I Walked With a Zombie" packs a major cinematic, horrifyingly dreamlike punch with its brazen atmosphere of sugar cane fields and voodoo ceremonies in a vast plantation. In terms of its often frightening and poetic imagery of shadows lurking in the night, this is no average RKO horror picture. This is directed by the phenomenal Jacques Tourneur ("Cat People") and produced by the great Val Lewton and it is the stuff of repressed nightmares - the kind that leaves you gasping for air whenever a zombie appears with bugged out eyes appears. 

That particular zombie is none other than CarreFour (Darby Jones), a very tall, striking figure, a zombie guard of sorts, who is often commanded to grab Jessica (Christine Gordon), a seemingly comatose and emotionless woman who walks at night in some sort of trance. Jessica is married to Paul Holland (Tom Conway), who owns the plantation and is as emotionless as Jessica. Truly the problem with Jessica isn't her spinal cord, based on the local doctor's findings, but that she is the walking dead! That's right, she is a zombie herself. Paul has to contend with her sleepwalking and with his half-brother, Wesley Rand (James Ellison), who is practically an alcoholic in the making. Paul has hired a Canadian nurse, the nurturing Betsy (Frances Dee), who wants to cure Jessica unaware of her actual, shall we say, issues. She also falls for Paul although it is such a muted love story that it never occurred to me she had any feelings for him - the nurse gets along more smashingly with James. The "Jane Eyre" influence is not immediate in this alleged re-telling.  

"I Walked With a Zombie" might give the Z generation pause for its plantation setting but it shouldn't - the black residents of this Caribbean island are not slaves, though many came from slavery. Carre-Four might be seen as a racist stereotype but he is simply devoid of humanity - just a zombie who never kills anyone. The performances are effectively restrained and the atmosphere gives off otherworldly, supernatural vibes (complemented with a constant drumbeat) that you would never feel in a George Romero "Dead" film. Influential and elegantly made with breathless, intoxicating scenes that may put you in a fixated trance.    

Deadening stare

 LE SAMOURAI (1967)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Alain Delon's steely gaze along with the perfect brim of his fedora hat and his tan trenchcoat can give one chills. Most of Jean Pierre-Melville's "Le Samourai" gives you chills in its elongated long takes of an unassuming Delon walking through the Parisian streets at night, ready for his kill. There is a coldness even when he steals an unlocked car with his ring of keys that presumably will contain the one lucky key to start the ignition. I did learn a couple of fascinating facts about Paris in the 1960's - all cars are unlocked and a set of keys from either an assassin or the police will eventually work for a locked apartment or an unlocked car. 

Delon is a dehumanized assassin for hire, known as Jef Costello. There is a prostitute's apartment he frequents, though sex never seems to enter the picture (the prostitute is played by Alain's wife at the time, Nathalie Delon). There is no joy or even a passing grin to ever enter the handsome Delon's face - this man has no inner life and nothing to keep him anywhere. He could float in and out of one city after another and retain his anonymity and nobody would ever give him a second look - a handsome automaton whom you could call the Everyman. I stress the handsomeness of Delon because this is probably Melville's own sly joke on his protagonist - no woman ever seems to notice him especially when he enters a club without his fedora on (I think in real life with Delon, this was hardly the case). His disinviting grayish apartment is spare except for a black rotary phone, a bed and a caged bird who happily chirps when he is home. In a stunning scene that kept me on the edge of my seat, Jef enters his home and notices that the bird is not chirping as much, as if the bird is exhausted. Jef realizes his home has been bugged and searches for the device. Amazingly tense sequence for a cliched scene.

"Le Samourai" has a grayish, sometimes nondescript, cloudy atmosphere that is reeked in despair, as if Melville was fully aware of the protagonist's fate. The film is clean and spare with hardly any gimmicky editing tricks other than the occasional slow swish pan between scenes. This works wonders and though I came to this film a little too late after seeing so many other lone assassin pictures inspired by Melville, "Le Samourai" is top of the line in every way with an existential ending that kept me riveted, shocked and drained. Melville's film, like its robotic antihero, briskly moves along with a deadening stare.  

America's Wickedest City!

 THE PHENIX CITY STORY (1955)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A major news story from Alabama, ripped straight from the headlines! The local attorney Albert Patterson from Phenix has been gunned down, attempting to run for Attorney General! His military son, John Patterson, will take over and run, but first he must call the militia and institute martial law! The town of Phenix is infested with an organized crime syndicate and 14th street, especially the Poppy Club, is the haven of corruption, prostitution, violence, illegal gambling and some striptease songs performed with more taste than such decadence might allow! It is a 100 million dollar enterprise, a truly successful industry, and when it comes to woeful capitalism (woeful only to those who hate the decadence and corruption), a change must come and rescue the citizens! Will it be John Patterson who lifts the town out of such violent, mob-run mentality? 

"The Phenix City Story" could have been an exploitation B-picture and it sure can read as one, at first. Opening with a 13-minute prologue involving a TV reporter interviewing actual citizens of Phenix including John Patterson's widow, you might think you stumbled onto a documentary. Then the film probes a little deeper into the Poppy Club and how the fix is in, and we see how such money is funnelled in through the factory development of die loaded with mercury, slot machines rigged to pay one cent on the dollar, marked dealer cards, bad whisky, etc. 

The head of this crime syndicate is Rhett Tanner (Edward Andrews), who has one terrific line where he states that he "hates trouble, despises it, keeps me awake at night." Of course, there is nothing but trouble in this town, from fistfights to the occasional murder that is reported by the press as just an accident. Rhett is an amoral bastard yet so damn smooth-talking that he looks like a simple jolly businessman. Attorney Albert Patterson (John McIntire) can't be persuaded by Rhett to join the syndicate or to join local efforts to rid the crime in the area. Then the violence starts to really dominate when Patterson, after the hideous murder of a black girl who is left for dead in front of his home, decides to run for attorney general. The voting locations are swarmed by mob guys who beat, slap and throw voters from careening vehicles. Voting is not a protected right, clearly. Albert Patterson is unfortunately gunned down, in addition to the murder of a witness who worked at the Poppy Club spying on the mob enforcers. No one is safe from the venomous syndicate but it is finally John, Albert's son, who brings justice to town.

"The Phenix City Story" doesn't shy away from the corruption that envelops Phenix City - it is street violence that comes alive in moments least expected. There is a sense of unease and no respite from its incendiary tone. The cast is uniformly excellent, especially reliable McIntire who brings an unquestionable moral authority. Richard Kiley also excels in his sweaty anxiety, trying to do the heroic thing but will the money-making industry allow it? "The Phenix City Story" has its imperfections and expected historical inaccuracies and some outright omissions (John Patterson reluctantly held segregationist views as attorney general and later as Governor of Alabama) yet the film is tough, fast-paced and unrelenting. It is strong stuff for 1955.   

Two sides of the same coin

 THE SCAPEGOAT (1959)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Switching identities with someone who bears a passing resemblance is one thing, but what if you switched with someone who is a clearly unmistakable doppelganger? And what if the switching of identities is done without your consent? Oh, the glory days of British Cinema when such unspoken caveats would lead to formal acceptance, from one identity to the other. That is at the heart of 1959's very formal, exquisitely made and highly refined adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier's novel, "The Scapegoat."

Alec Guinness is John, a forlorn French teacher who is on holiday in France. In those Parisian streets at night where a cafe is seemingly right out of the corner of every staircase, John orders a cognac and is recognized by a woman of mystery to him. John leaves for another cafe as he is being followed by some silhouetted stranger only to find himself at the bar face-to-face with Jacques De Gué (also played by Guinness) who is his identical twin. Only they are not twins and their worlds seem far apart; one is a professor and the other is some French aristocrat who comes from inherited wealth. Nevertheless, after Jacques invites John to his hotel room and gets him drunk, John finds that the following day he is now seen as Jacques! Jacques has disappeared and the chauffeur Gaston (Geoffrey Keen) has arrived to take him back to the chateau. John tries to convince everyone he is not Jacques yet within time, he accepts his title with little reluctance. Now he is welcomed and needed, something John did not possess as a lowly professor. The question then becomes - what has happened to Jacques and why did he give up his title? Is Jacques taking over John's position as a teacher? Not so fast.

"The Scapegoat" may initially yield little in the way of surprise or suspense other than the revelation of Jacques' motives (and John's motives as well). Clearly John enjoys the luxuries of being a Count, but he also enjoys the company of the Count's nosy daughter Marie Noel (Annabel Bartlett, her sole acting credit). There is also the Count's frustrated, emotionally frail wife, Francoise (Irene Worth), and the sharp-tongued, uncouth mother from hell (Bette Davis, a gloriously colorful performance) who spends her time bedridden. I neglected to mention the Count's mistress (Nicole Maurey) who slowly but surely discovers this Count is not the man she loves - she actually falls in love with this new Count. That is one way to know that deception has taken place.

The movie ends a little abruptly (and leaves a gaping plot hole that I will leave others to discuss after you have seen it) yet I found the whole film very watchable and it kept me invested trying to guess where this might lead. Sure, the Count's family is not that memorably portrayed overall yet it is Alec Guinness who keeps us watching. Whether it is the Count's richly lived life or the professor's lonely world, it is sneakily suggested that either life produces the same kind of restrained existence. Only John finds love is the key. A romantic thriller in every sense of the word. 

Hey there, Monkey Face!

SUSPICION (1941)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When you reach the finish line of Alfred Hitchcock's often disarming yet somewhat compelling "Suspicion," you realize that the finish is not sound. It is not an ending that makes sense and can lessen what has preceded it. Still, it is quite something to see how it ends, if for no other reason than the subtle touch sprinkled on it. 

Joan Fontaine is the spinsterish Lina, who reads Child Psychology books and perhaps yearns for a responsible adult man. That man might be Johnnie Aysgarth (Cary Grant), a rakish playboy of sorts whom right from the start we know he's either irresponsible with money or doesn't have any. They meet on a train, which should spell trouble in a Hitchcock film, and he's already asking for some money from a complete stranger since he's riding first class, not third as indicated on his ticket. When they see each other again, there is already friction as he grabs her wrists ("I am not trying to kill you.") Next time out, they are dancing at a ball, presumably because Lina overhears her parents' concern about her being a spinster - she wants to show she can get a man and who better than this Johnnie. 

What is fascinating is how Johnnie is told by friends not to pursue Lina. Lina, in turn, is told not to pursue Johnnie since he wants her fortune (which she doesn't have). Once they are married and live in a luxurious home with a maid, trouble spews due to Johnny not having any job or any finances. This man owes money and, slowly but surely, we discover along with Lina that Johnnie is a fraud - a likable fraud but a fraud nonetheless. But is he a potential murderer? And his potential business partner, the jovial Beaky Thwaite (Nigel Bruce), may be in danger with Johnnie. Of course, these are all suspicions on the part of Lina. Are they unfounded and simply delusional suspicions?

RKO studio preferred the latter explanation as the ending was hastily changed because they presumed the audience wouldn't want to see Grant as a charming killer (I guess if Richard Widmark had been cast, the darker ending would've stuck). Grant had already proven to the most likable and charming romantic lead in movies like "The Philadelphia Story," "Gunga Din," "His Girl Friday" and "Topper" so a murderer was not in the cards. Yet watching Cary Grant and his implied dialogue exchanges, not to mention his rough handling of Lina in certain key points of the film, point towards the inevitable. Director Quentin Tarantino offered his opinion recently on the ending of "Suspicion" suggesting that Johnnie might be the killer because of the creepy manner in which he puts his arm around Lina as they drive back to their home. I certainly sense that - Hitchcock has often suggested more than meets the eye. "Suspicion" is not remarkable Hitchcock but it is often startling and watchable because you keep thinking that Johnnie is the killer. Even if the ending offers excuses to suggest it was all in Lina's head, we know it might not be. 

Tempestuous emotions in a tempestuous storm

SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS (1927)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Never has pure love, tempered with a deep darkness, seemed so enthralling, exhilarating and so precious. Such is definitely the case with "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans," a unique and artistic picture. Yes, those were the words given by the Academy that bestowed it with such an honor - unique for sure. Artistic? I never agreed with labeling any film "artistic" because I would gather that it was implied. Nevertheless, "Sunrise" is an exquisite beauty of a movie with a darkness that is hard to forget and an ending that almost tramples what preceded it.

"Sunrise" is set in some anonymous village where the Man (George O'Brien) lives with his docile wife (Janet Gaynor) in a cottage - they have a child. The village is close-knit but there is a disturbance in the form of the Woman from the City (Margaret Livingston) who has an affection for the Man. She dresses up at night, has her shoes polished, goes out near the swamps after whistling for the Man's attention and waits, holding a flower in hand by the moonlight. The Man might be infatuated with this girl but when she suggests that he sell the farm and kill his wife by drowning her so they can go back to the city together, a shadow of darkness has enveloped the man. 

One day, the Man and the Wife venture out to the lake on the way to the city. Slowly, he starts to stand on the boat ready to attack. The Wife knows what he is about to (she is not ignorant of the Woman from the City either) and he breaks down and can't go through with it. She runs, trying to escape and leaves in a streetcar for the City but he catches up. What unfolds in leisurely and remarkably powerful fashion is how the Woman starts to see that he really loves her - he can't kill her and we know he can't. In our modern times, especially ever since the 1940's, this would have been the melodramatic template for a film noir or a contemporary sleazy 1980's/90's thriller yet director Murnau invests wisely in developing their relationship by the places they frequent. A restaurant turns the situation even more dour when the Wife can barely look at him or eat, but then there is a photo studio, a church wedding, a barbershop, an amusement park and finally a dance followed by the imbibing of liquor. They have had a full day of fun activities and their love remains unadulterated, untouched. You may be forgiven if you think you've wandered into a Charlie Chaplin movie.  

"Sunrise" then explodes with a tempestuous finale that could have gone either way. A horrific storm catches them unawares while rafting back to the cottage and they are swept up in it, and it is assumed that the Wife has drowned since she can't be found. Now the Woman from the City surely believes that her supposed man had done the deed. Murnau's film explodes with aching irony though one can't be sure if the ending is what he intended.

 "Sunrise" is also quite humorous throughout though not ostensibly a comedy. The photo studio bit involving the breakage of a statue while the couple waits for their pictures is hysterical, especially when the photographer sees a weird looking doll head on the statue. I love the Midsummer dance they perform, much to the delight of all patrons at the dance hall. With such upbeat scenes, there are also deeply unsettling ones such as the terrific storm; the moment when the Man almost strangles the Woman from the City not to mention the Wife; the baby crying in his bed during the storm; the Man weeping while searching for the Wife; the walk through the city where motor vehicles threaten to hit them (one shot looks like a cut-out of them walking into traffic and back to the cottage and it is something to see) and that moonlight shot is something out of either a nightmare or a bad dream. "Sunrise" doesn't collapse with its ending, something I won't give away, but it does leave some residue. We know what the Man is capable of doing, even if he doesn't do it. He loves his wife...but at what cost? Fascinating, disturbing, dazzling filmmaking that leaves you with some frightening questions. 

2 Men want to marry Janet Leigh

 HOLIDAY AFFAIR (1949)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

This could've been a routine throw-away kind of romantic Christmas movie - an adult comedy-drama about two men vying for the same single mother -  yet in the hands of director Don Hartman and with a delectable cast like Janet Leigh, Robert Mitchum and Wendell Corey, it is a surefire winner in every department. 

Janet Leigh is the single mother Connie, a comparison shopper who shops at rival department stores to determine price and quality of products. At Crowley's, one of the rival competitors, she hastily purchases a $79 train set from a suspicious, eagle-eyed sales clerk, Steve Mason (Robert Mitchum). The next day Connie attempts to return it (despite her son thinking the toy is his Christmas present) yet Steve is on to her, willing to report her (who would've guessed that identifying a comparison shopper could cost that person their job). After Steve hears Connie's story of being a war widow and solely supporting her son, he refunds her which costs Steve his job! This is some hectic Christmas holiday! Connie eventually befriends the charming and unemployed Steve but there is Connie's beau (Wendell Corey), a lawyer who wants to hurriedly marry her. Guess who stands in the way. 

There is nothing that can't be anticipated in "Holiday Affair" yet it is so persuasively performed and written with such remarkable honesty that it somehow feels new. Credit the towering Mitchum and the equally tall Corey for keeping the tension afloat with humor and pathos, and also one shouldn't forget the underrated Janet Leigh as a bewildered woman who seems to ready to take either man as long as they respect her anxious, sometimes impertinent son. I was quite moved by "Holiday Affair" and it won me over with some laughs and some peak dramatic moments (Corey attempts to give that darn kid with a lip a lesson, stopped short by Connie). The whole cast keeps this from ever sliding into false sentimentality, especially Mitchum in a rare, dignified role as a perfectly good, honest and reasonable guy. His admittance of wanting to marry Connie in front of her family and her beau is one of those jaw-dropping moments for the books. "Holiday Affair" is simply a delight from start to finish that will make anyone's heart melt, especially any jaded, frosty Scrooges out there.

Fast-moving tornado of thrills

 THE BIG STEAL (1949)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

From one crackling, thrilling, pulse-pounding minute after another, I was completely hooked by "The Big Steal" starring Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer in roles seemingly designed only for them. Between the husky-voiced and titanic presence of Mitchum coupled with "the Woman with the Mona Lisa Smile" herself, the sparkling Greer, I can't imagine a better way to spend any afternoon or evening watching this marvelous and comical entertainment with some vague noirish tones.

The basic plot is not on the same wavelength as Mitchum and Greer's last outing, the noir masterpiece known as "Out of the Past," but it will do for fans of both actors. Mitchum is an Army lieutenant named Halliday whose $300,000 payroll is pilfered by thief Jim Fiske (Patric Knowles). Of course, the money is on other people's potentially greedy minds like Halliday's boss, Captain Blake (William Bendix), who chases Halliday through most of Mexico. Keep in mind, Halliday is chasing Fiske and Fiske's girlfriend, Joan (Jane Greer), who is along for the ride hoping to collect $2,000 she's owed by Fiske! While in Mexico, everyone has to deal with the police and a certain savvy Police Inspector General Ortega (Ramon Novarro). There are fistfights, slaps across Joan's and Fiske's faces, suitcases filled with either money or shredded paper, suspicious Mexicans at remote gas stations, lots of car chases involving hairpin turns, etc. There's also mild banter between Halliday and Joan and a fantastically funny scene where they convince a construction foreman to let them pass through the road, claiming to be a married couple with an angry father on their tail! I got a big laugh out of that one.

For sheer entertainment value and no dull moments, "The Big Steal" is paced like a fast-moving tornado and it is very well-directed by Don Siegel. It has the shadings of noir but not quite the spirit - this is an elongated chase picture and the fun never lets up. I only wish Mitchum and Greer had made more films together - their chemistry ignites the screen so much, you might have to check yourself for sunburns.