The Lost World of Native Americans

THE EXILES (1961)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 

When a lost film is rediscovered, it is always a pleasure, like unearthing a treasure that has only ripened with age. "The Exiles" is a rare treat of a film, a near-documentary expose of Native Americans living in the sordid sections of L.A. in the late 1950's.

By sordid, I do mean seemingly run-down, beaten paths of streets that are often seen at night bathed in neon signs and decorated with cigar shops and bars in every corner. That is not to say that the section of downtown L.A. shown in the film called Bunker Hill is sordid, but it has the look of noirish city streets with no end in sight, especially the tunnel that looks almost uninviting. I am sure that this is all by design since the story, centering on a group of Native Americans who reside in the city to get away from the reservation, seems to indicate a land of no exit, no hope and complete despair wrapped around a liquor bottle.

This group looks like young American adults with shaven faces, pressed shirts, nice convertibles, slicked back hair and an appetite for a night life of uncontrollable boozing, rock and roll music and scoring with women. The film plays like an existentialist version of "American Graffiti" in its evocation of a life with no meaning since these guys have no ambition, no goals. Yet, interestingly, they are aware of their place as dictated by voice-overs - they all sound like guys with a Mike Hammer fixation on an uncaring world. Heck, these Native Americans were exiled by the white man, forced to live in reservations, and now they leave it behind for, in a word, nothing.

One man seems to implicitly lose his patience with the world he lives in. That is Homer, a young, stocky Native American who never seems to get too drunk. He has a brief moment where he receives a letter and a picture from his parents who are still living in a reservation. There is a tinge of sadness to this, as if Homer is realizing there is more to living than drinking and women. That realization may or may not have a lasting impact on him.

Yvonne Williams is Homer's wife, and she is pregnant. She is the only character to express any measure of hope, particularly with her unborn son. She has no communication with Homer whatsoever - he simply waits for her to iron his shirts and fry his pork chops.

Beautifully shot in black-and-white by Erik Daarstad, Robert Kaufman and John Morrill and tinged with much despair and tension, "The Exiles" is a unique and tantalizing picture, a forerunner to films like "Mean Streets" and John Cassevettes films. Though it never got a proper theatrical release in 1961, it can now be placed in the real context of American cinematic equivalents to the French New Wave (just ahead of Cassevettes' own debut, "Shadows"). Stunningly directed by Kent MacKenzie, "The Exiles" has no real conventional narrative thrust - it sort of exists as an observation of lives lost in a city with boundaries that do not allow for freedom as one might ironically find in a reservation. At one point, the wild and unruly group find themselves on a hill (known as Hill X) chanting and beating drums only to be later followed by more fighting, boozing and a near-rape. And the final devastating scene of Yvonne peering through her bedroom window will leave you haunted for days. "The Exiles" is an essential and lasting masterpiece.

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. 

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.

Biblical Southern Gothic extremes

THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Melodrama can often fail or succeed based on how exaggerated the characters and situations are in a story. For "The Night of the Hunter," it is the case of extreme exaggeration and laughable execution in the most stereotyped of performances. I know some consider this a milestone in the annals of film classics from yesteryear, but I found it to be one of the most ridiculously over-the-top films to portray Southern caricatures I have ever seen. It is Southern Gothic to be sure, and all I can see is Charles Laughton's contempt for these characters.

The story involves a Ben Harper (Peter Graves), who is sent to prison at the beginning of the film after hiding a large sum of money in the house. He leaves behind his two kids and his wife, Willa Harper (Shelley Winters). Enter fellow convict Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum), who gets wind of the missing money in prison. Harry eventually gets out of prison, woos and marries Willa and hunts for the money. Only the two kids (who know of the money's hiding place) are too smart to let anything happen to the money, yet they have also underestimated Harry and his murderous ways.

The revered Charles Laughton had directed "The Night of the Hunter," his only film behind the camera. Whatever he found unusable in James Agee's script (thoroughly revised though Agee still receives credit) was thrown out by Laughton himself, who completely rewrote the screenplay. I am not sure Laughton's improvements enhanced the film in any way. Though I had only seen this film once, I can say that every character is stereotyped to the nth degree. From Bible-spouting citizens who laugh and scream a little too loudly to the sometimes chilling Harry, a supposed Reverend, who hounds and disturbs kids to the high-pitched Missouri accent of Shelley Winters to two thoroughly bland kids being hunted by Harry, and on and on. Only the character of Rachel (played by the phenomenal Lillian Gish), the dear woman with a shotgun who tends to runaways, is given a shred of depth and dignity and Gish underplays wonderfully. The rest of the cast could have done the same. As powerful a presence as Mitchum is, he was far more menacing in 1962's "Cape Fear."

The two runaway kids seem unable to respond or emote in any effective manner at all. Laughton reportedly hated directing kids since he despised them, handing the reins to Robert Mitchum to direct them. The result shows on screen, especially in two instances. One is where the girl, Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce), cries in desperation before her brother, John (Billy Chapin), is about to be brutally wounded by Harry. It is a reaction that a normal child in a real situation would have reacted with far more horror than is shown. Another is where John cries at the sight of Harry arrested by the cops as he is handcuffed to the ground, reminding him of how his father was pinned to the ground and similarly handcuffed. These reactions seem forced and unnatural, and we are supposed to be rooting for the kids!

There are some beautifully composed shots in black-and-white that certainly stand out and have influenced many filmmakers, thanks to the great cinematographer Stanley Cortez (he also did the beautifully pristine "The Magnificent Ambersons"). I like the perspective of the Reverend on horseback as daybreak arrives while the kids hide in a hayloft. The scene where Harry stands at the top of the basement stairs and utters those famous words, "Chilll....dren!" The fantastic shot of Rachel sitting in her rocking chair with a shotgun and singing in harmony with Harry who sits outside the house waiting to grab the kids. Also worth noting is Wllla's demise underwater - a staple of great noir shots that is quite eerie. But these are all images that work in spite of the movie - as a whole, the movie is just too overplayed and overdramatized to warrant such great images. Think of it as Southern Gothic noir, only the Southern aspect is so damn melodramatic with its Bible hymns and choirs and irritating music score by Walter Schumann that you are likely to stay away from churches for some time.

"The Night of the Hunter" is considered a cult film and a classic for many movie lovers, and I can see where the appreciation lies. But its overly melodramatic and unsubtle notes undermine any clarity or suspense for the story to work. I suppose it is too Southern with a capital S for my tastes."Baby Doll" it ain't.

Beauty killed the beast

KING KONG (1933)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

1933's "King Kong" is the granddaddy of all modern horror and disaster films. Amazing to think how audiences reacted back then to the sight of a giant ape in a forgotten island, taken to New York City where he runs on the loose. Audiences were terrified back then and understandably so. "King Kong" is not a great movie by any means, but it is a fun-filled ride and the special-effects are awesome in their own way.

The story has Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong), a daring, adventurous filmmaker who is looking for the next scream queen in one of his pictures. He finds a wandering woman in the streets of Manhattan, Ann Darrow (Fay Wray), whom he's convinced will be a major star. They are off and running, headed for a ship voyage to an unknown island unlisted in any map, Skull Island. Of course, a dim sailor (Bruce Cabot) takes an interest in Ann, especially when she is photographed in lascivious, provocative poses by Carl. Carl's intention is to see how she'll look when horrified by something unnatural. Eventually, they make it to the island, which is surrounded by fog and inhabited by a native tribe who keep chanting the name "Kong." The ship crew is seen by the natives who are clearly interested in the blonde babe, Ann. During the night, some natives kidnap Ann as a sacrifice for Kong. It turns out Kong is a 25-50 foot burly ape who pounds his chest and can wrestle giant snakes, T-rexes and pterodactyls. He also has a way with heavy wooden logs and women. This Skull Island is clearly the land that time forgot.

What delivers in "King Kong" is the sight of this ape and all the special-effects necessary to make it believable. This was the time of the groundbreaking work of stop-motion animation, thanks to Willis O'Brien who pioneered those effects (check out 1925's "The Lost World" for some amazing dinosaur effects). As a result, there was a jerkiness to the effects that lend it some modicum of credibility. Even Ray Harryhausen, who later utilized the possibilities of stop-motion animation even further, was recently quoted as saying that they had a nightmarish quality. Very true, and that is why nobody has forgotten the original King Kong creature. He is as much a part of the New York City skyline as the Empire State Building. It has a peculiar magic realism that today's CGI effects lack.

That is not to say that everything else in "King Kong" is as eye-openingly incredible. The performances by Armstrong, Cabot and Fay Wray (a helluva screamer) wouldn't merit a mention on any Broadway playbill - there is not much depth or personality to these actors. The dialogue stinks and is as witless as they come, though I liked the line said by a New Yorker in reference to men being like gorillas. What does work is King Kong, a creature unlike any other in cinematic history. He is an angry beast who wants his female companion to stick with him, even laying near his feet at the top of the Empire State Building as he fights attacking biplanes. He is seen as a terror by all, though I think making Armstrong something of a good guy at the end when he utters the famous line, "It was beauty that killed the beast" is clearly off-the-mark.

The main reasons to see "King Kong" are to see Kong in action, particularly demolishing everything in his path. And there are those close-ups of Kong munching on citizens of New York and the tribesmen of Skull Island (shots that were initially cut out of the original release). And who can forget Kong as he practically strips poor Fay Wray while she sleeps (another censored scene)! If you can get past the wooden acting and cliched dialogue, "King Kong" will deliver as a nightmare ride of epic proportions.

Wimpish GLASSES

GRANDMA'S BOY (1922)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 

"Grandma's Boy" is not a riotous Harold Lloyd comedy with death-defying stunts, but it is a quieter, sublime film that thrives on sweetness and sympathy to make it work. And there are some hysterically funny scenes as well.

Lloyd is the weak, wimpish Sonny, who would rather let someone humiliate him than fight back. This is evident from an early scene where a bullish, headstrong man known as the Bully (Charles Stevenson) throws Sonny into a well! Sonny pines for the lovely Mildred (Mildred Davis) but the burly, arrogant Bully wants her too, and even takes credit for making ice cream with Mildred when it was Sonny who did all the hard work. Those were the days.

Sonny lives with his steadfast, feisty grandmother (Anna Stevenson), who devotes herself to making Sonny happy (and will chase away unwanted guests in her lawn with a broom!) Grandma gives Sonny a suit for a special occasion at Mildred's house, when it turns out the same suit is worn by the house servant! Then there are the mothballs that are confused with candy, the goose grease on Sonny's shoes that attracts the attention of several house cats, a Civil War flashback told as a tall tale with Lloyd as Sonny's grandfather that will leave you in stitches, and an extended fight scene inside a barn that is so expertly and flawlessly conceived, you wonder why today's action films can't contain as much zing in their own fight scenes.

"Grandma's Boy" was originally conceived as a drama with chuckles and sight gags interspersed throughout (reportedly after initially poor test screenings). It is Lloyd's first feature-length film and it is a sweet, delectable surprise -a film that benefits from developing its main character from a wimp with a childlike innocence to a man who can stand up for himself. Of course, this is nothing new in the annals of literature or cinema, but Lloyd and company succeed in making it seem all new again (especially when Sonny's grandmother is the one to witness Sonny's gradual transformation and triumphs, not Mildred. I am not giving anything anyway by saying that he still wins Mildred's heart). Aside from Chaplin, Lloyd may well be considered one of the great humanists of silent comedy for his unreserved compassion and commitment to playing lovable, klutzy "Glasses" nerds who were men as well. This film proves it.