Wandering amnesiac in New York

MISTER BUDDWING (1966)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If there is one kind of story I love, it is the tale of the wandering amnesiac. Though hardly the best example of it, "Mister Buddwing" is a solid tale of anxiety and helplessness, at least for 3/4 of the way through.

James Garner, in a rare and dramatic performance, is walking around Central Park in New York, unaware of who he is or where he comes from. The first shot of the film shows his point of view, which is deliberate skewed as he tries to focus on the New York City skyline and eventually looks at his hands. He carries a ring with an inscription that reads "From GV." He also has a phone number and calls it, not knowing who will answer. Someone named Gloria (Angela Lansbury) has the number, and Mr. Anonymous arrives at her residence. She doesn't know him and he certainly doesn't recognize her, so you could say the plot thickens. He gives himself the name Sam Buddwing, due to a Budweiser truck and an airplane he spots. Nothing of his past or any memories are triggered until he sees a woman (Katharine Ross) sitting on a bench. Could she be the elusive Grace, his wife?

"Mister Buddwing" develops efficiently with an effortless, driving rhythm - you want to see where Mister Buddwing is going and where he will end up. The city of New York has been used in many films but, here, it has the nightmarish, black-and-white power of noir pictures like "The Naked City" or even one set in London, the fantastic "Night and the City." The city seems mysterious and in certain shots overlooking a bridge or on city streets, even desolate and frightening. Director Delbert Mann ("Marty") and cinematographer Ellsworth Fredericks really capture the intensity and emotional emptiness of a city that could care less if you are amnesiac. A handful of hand-held camera shots (a cliche in this day and age) and the documentary feel of city life, especially when Buddwing has a headache and seems to ready to fall on the pavement, are wonderfully captured. There are exquisitely handled scenes in cafes and hotels that are done with remarkable restraint, again imploring us to find out little clues about Buddwing.

Unfortunately, by the time we find out what is really going on with Buddwing and discover his true identity, we feel cheated. I wouldn't dream of giving it away but it is less than revealing and somehow negates the buildup that we have invested in for almost an hour and a half. It is not a bad finish, but it is an anticlimactic one.

As I have mentioned, "Mister Buddwing" belongs in the tradition of my favorite kind of stories - a man searching for his identity. What is great about such a story, especially one involving an amnesiac, is that the filmmakers can exploit this idea and pursue it in any manner they wish. We learn he may be a music composer and we do know his wife is named Grace, or do we. Those kind of unclear questions and search for identity could've gone in any direction, and by the time we get to a backroom alley of poker with Jean Simmons as a true floozie, we begin to wonder what strange, hypnotic walk we are gazing upon. The movie is terrific and Garner is in fine form, as is Katharine Ross, Suzanne Pleshette and Jean Simmons. But such a strange, fun ride to the dark side could've benefitted from a truly climactic finish instead of the one we are saddled with. See it, but try to forget the ending.

Watch the Skies for the Iceman Cometh

THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD (1951)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

During the 1970's through the 80['s, I grew up watching 1950's atomic monster and various otherworldly alien pictures. Who can forget "Them!" or "The Day The Earth Stood Still" or "The War of the Worlds"? "1951's "The Thing From Another World" is not really an atomic monster picture but it is a spellbinding treat of an alien picture. Not a great movie but a highly satisfactory one. 

A group of U.S. Air Force crew members are sitting at an Alaskan bar playing cards. A press reporter intrudes, looking for any story to print about the government. Before you can say the Iceman Cometh, the crew is requested at a North Pole outpost where a mysterious flying craft has crashed. Kenneth Tobey is Captain Hendry, who leads his crew and the reporter to the site. It turns out the aircraft is a flying saucer, a giant one at that. Thermite bombs are used to thaw out the ship but the crew accidentally destroy it instead. A large block of ice holds some man in it, or is it an alien? Dr. Carrington (Robert Cornthwaite) has his team of doctors decipher from samples that this "thing" is some sort of vegetable monster. Oh, thank God, I guess it won't eat or attack humans, will it?

From first frame to last, "The Thing From Another World" conveys major doses of tension and suspense. Thankfully the filmmakers, including director Christian Nyby and famed producer Howard Hawks (who allegedly, depending on who you ask, also had directorial control), opt not to show much of the monster. When the monster does appear, it is quick and abrupt enough to make an impression without dwelling on the creature's appearance (played by James Arness, who looks like a North Pole variation on Karloff's Frankenstein Monster). But "The Thing" also has a few other goodies in store. Kenneth Tobey is convincingly stoic and sly, especially when flirting with his girlfriend, Carrington's secretary (a nice touch of dignified humor and class by Margaret Sheridan). Their relationship provides a nice balance from the film's frequent outbursts of horror, sometimes induced by loud bangs or quiet beeps, not to mention doors slamming open from the cruel winter weather, the reveal of a dead sled dog found in a compartment, the beeping of a Geiger counter, or the famously jolting moment when Captain Hendry opens a door to find the alien waiting.

Also worth a mention is Robert Cornthwaite as Dr. Carrington, who has one of those quiet, soothing voices that makes you want to hear every word he says. For comic relief, there is Douglas Spencer as Ned Scott, a nerdy reporter who comes across more manly than the average nerd and gets to deliver the film's famous last line.

"The Thing From Another World" is a solidly absorbing, tightly coiled monster flick that bares little relation to its original literary source, "Who Goes There?" by John W. Campbell, Jr. It is a patriotic sci-fi horror picture, where the Americans can do no wrong in fighting the fight. That might seem like a dated notion but the patriotic slant does continue to operate in America today. Today's audiences would probably not give this film a second look. Oh, it is in black-and-white! Oh, it is from another century! Oh, the monster only appears for a total of three minutes. May the cinema gods have pity on all of you naysayers.

Welcome to your planet

PLANET OF THE APES (1968)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I might get burned for this but I consider "Planet of the Apes" one of the cheesiest sci-fi films ever made. Cheesy because the concept seems shallow, unrewarding and never takes itself too seriously. A planet full of apes who consider themselves superior to the human race is an idea worth exploring but it is not given the scope and intelligence it so richly deserves.

By now, the original "Planet of the Apes" has become a staple of American pop culture. The bare-chested Charlton Heston spouting such lines as "Get your paws off me, you dirty ape!" and yelling while being hosed down in his cell (Mr. NRA is also quite adept with a rifle) is the stuff of Americana at its hokiest. There is also the scantily-clad human female who mostly looks adoringly at Heston and smiles. The ape council played by distinguished actors such as James Whitmore and Maurice Evans (who plays Dr. Zaius). There is also the wonderful team of Roddy McDowall and Kim Hunter as the ape scientists who feel there is proof of a human existence long before the apes on their planet. And the final shocking image of the Statue of Liberty that remains the most memorable image in the sci-fi canon.

"Planet of the Apes" has a fascinating start as we see the astronauts, including Heston, land on the planet which is as dry and arid as any they had ever seen. Before long they discover humans are used as slaves by apes, thus realizing it is several hundred years into the future indeed. The apes also believe that humans are inferior because they can't talk yet Heston finally has the ability to speak after being tranquilized, uttering the famous line of dialogue. After that scene, things go downhill somewhat, alternating between unintentional humor and some rather sophomoric action scenes. None of it makes a whole lot of sense but there is an underlying social commentary taking place, mostly that the apes begin to see a human face in the humans they captured whom they consider ugly and bestial. It takes a while for them to recognize Heston is not like any other human. The racism angle, particularly for the time of the film's release, is clearly felt.

"Planet of the Apes" is puerile and cheesy but it is fun to watch. Heston overacts but is always a watchable presence. The apes are always credibly played by all the actors, and the late Roddy McDowall does come off best. But the concepts and ideas that were so fascinating to begin with are underdeveloped and unfinished. I still like some meat with my cheese.

Sinning in Suburbia, circa 1960

STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET (1960)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Kim Novak will always be Madeleine in Hitchcock's masterpiece "Vertigo." Although she is one of the loveliest presences of the last forty years, she has seldom been used well. Outside of Hitchcock, she gave a poor performance in "Picnic" where it was readily apparent that she was straining to fall in love with William Holden's character. Although that may have been the intention, Novak always seemed penurious. "Strangers When We Meet" was one of the few times where Novak's acting flowed from the character she played.

Kirk Douglas plays Larry Coe, a Californian architect who feels like a sell-out for making the same designs for the same exact houses. He gets the golden opportunity to make a house with a bizarre design for a successful author (Ernie Kovacs), and does it so that he isn't as restricted in choosing unimaginative clients. Larry has the typical trappings of your average suburban family - a nice wife, a beautiful lawn, a child, etc. It is unclear if Larry is happy, especially since his wife is so deeply involved in his career choices (she obviously wants him to make money). A neighbor named Maggie (Kim Novak) opens his eyes to a potential affair. At first, she is disinterested in going for a simple ride with Larry to the designated hill where a new house will be built. Slowly, she grows to accept him and falls in love. In other words, it is a tale told so many times in the exact same setting - suburbia (these tales come tenfold on Lifetime television every week). What cues the interest is that the film was released in 1960, the beginning of a new era where 1950's attitudes and values still meant something, particularly taking care of a family, yet were about to be headed in a new direction with women's lib and so on. The last thing you would expect is for Maggie or Larry to leave their families to pursue their affair beyond their tidy existence of suburban heaven.

There is one scene that evokes an honest, almost frightening disturbance to the calm and idyllic nature of pleasantville. Walter Matthau plays Larry's best friend, Felix, who astutely reads body language and notices that Larry is having an affair with Maggie. Felix attempts to seduce Larry's wife in a sequence that is as scintillating and subversive as one can imagine - he taunts her with piercing words and one senses that she almost plays into his hands.

Beyond that, Kirk Douglas ably performs though he seems more willing to pick up a spear than make love to Kim Novak, especially in the passage where she admits to having a prior affair. Kim Novak really startles the eyes and the ears with her incandescent beauty and dreamy voice, possessing all the characteristics that made her a spectacular success in "Vertigo." She also displays her need for love, particularly to her husband in a scene that will make you squirm since the husband seems so repressed and loveless - how can anyone resist Kim Novak? Ernie Kovacs, who died shortly after making this film, provides ample comic relief as the friendly, sensitive ear to Larry. And Matthau is at his best, playing a nearly-villainous neighbor whose main weapon is seduction.

"Strangers When We Meet" is no classic and its melodramatic, syrupy, soap-opera theatrics with swooning, syrupy, sentimental music may cause many to tune out. But I admire the performances and the revelations about marriage and commitment in an era where such ideals were often met with more success than they are today. It wasn't all as squeaky-clean and repressed as we might have thought, and this film proves it.

Falconetti's saintly, wounded Joan

THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Amazingly, there have been a few remakes of Carl Theodor Dreyer's passionate, powerful film, "The Passion of Joan of Arc." I say amazingly because I am hard pressed to think anyone could make a superior film or come up with a better actress than Maria Renee Falconetti as the tortured, wounded, saintly Joan. Ingrid Bergman was not bad but let's face it: Falconetti is reason enough to believe that saints do exist.

Dreyer's film begins with the inquisition of Joan at her trial after being captured. Essentially, she is a farm girl who becomes a warrior. She is questioned in regards to her faith and where it stems from and if she feels God put her in her place to save France or if she is the Devil's handiwork. The inquisitors include mostly judges and orthodox theologians who watch every word and gesture Joan makes with relish. They try to provoke her, and they foolishly think that an illiterate nineteen year-old would have little faith or much understanding of her actions. They are surprised by her responses to say the least.

When Joan is asked who taught her the Lord's prayer, she sheds tears at the remembrance of her mother. When asked the most difficult question, if she is in a state of grace, she responds that she does not know if she is, but she hopes God will grant her grace and salvation. This is naturally considered blasphemy by the judges.

The undying power of "The Passion of Joan of Arc" is Carl Dreyer's attentive direction and superbly mobile camera, showing endless tracking shots and exquisite close-ups. There are lots of canted angles and little sense of space, mainly because it is constricted by the use of several close-ups. Most of these close-ups are of the judges, often showing them as monstrous and ugly when questioning or spitting at poor Joan. There are of course many extreme close-ups of Joan, sometimes allowing for lots of headroom to accentuate the high ceiling of the cathedrals. This kind of composition is rightfully disorienting, and it works in conveying Joan's own subjective disorientation. The visual language is incredible considering the film was made back in 1928, and it further establishes Dreyer as a principal artist of the silent film era and beyond with classic films like "Vampyr" and "Day of Wrath."

Of course, the majority of the film's success belongs to Maria Renee Falconetti as St. Joan, who never made another film since. She invigorates the sympathetic and pained soul of the martyred Joan as fully as anyone can imagine. Falconetti shows the enlightenment, the emotional wounds, the startled eyes as if hinting that she had seen God, the flowing tears, the sly smiles, and the gradual acceptance of her fate. This Joan suffers greatly as we see her faint while she stares at a wheel of spikes, and at another point, she is bled with a needle to cure a fever.

"Passion of Joan of Arc" is one of the greatest films ever made, as passionate and soulful a portrait of a scorned woman as you can imagine. Falconetti's performance is one of the most enlightening, on par with Gulietta Massina's work in "La Strada" - two of the foremost performances of the 20th century. Having seen the film three times, I confess that the restoration of this print, which includes illuminating music by Richard Einhorn titled "Voices of Light," adds enormously to the crescendo of the tragic finale that seals the fate of St. Joan. This is as vivid and human as films get.

Singing the praises and the pain of love

THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG aka LES PARAPLUIES DE CHERBOURG (1964)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 1996)

Catherine Deneuve is probably the most beautiful, attractive, mysterious blonde in cinema. In my opinion, her beauty is her magic and it draws enormous pathos and is unsurpassed in the history of film, even with the iconic, empathetic sexiness of Marilyn Monroe. I think part of her unmistakable beauty is her ability to play both weak and forlorn women in films such as "Repulsion" and "Belle De Jour," and strong, independent, callous women in films like "O Convento" and the lesbian vampire in "The Hunger." I have not seen all of Deneuve's films, but I doubt she's ever played such a vivacious, funny, charming woman who sings as she does in the seemingly riotous "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg."

In her film debut at the age of twenty, Deneuve plays the teenage Genevieve, a girl who works for her mother (Anne Vernon) at a small umbrella shop. Every day after work, Genevieve meets the local garage mechanic named Guy (Nino Castelnuovo) whom she is deeply in love with. Guy wants to marry her and whisk her away from her mother. There are complications, though. Her mother's shop is about to be closed down until a wealthy playboy, Roland Cassard (Marc Michel), offers to save it - of course, he is deeply smitten by Genevieve's beauty and falls in love with her. Her mother insists that she marry Cassard since Guy is out to be drafted to the army in Algeria for two years.

More complications ensue. Genevieve turns out to be pregnant. Since she only receives one letter from Guy, she accepts Cassard's marriage proposal, and his willingness to raise her child as their own. A few years later, Guy returns from the army only to discover that Genevieve has married, his mother is sickly, and her caretaker, Madeleine (Ellen Farmer), is in love with him.

Part of the charm of "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" is that director Jacques Demy has turned this highly romantic film into a musical in the strangest sense. Demy's screenplay is full of the usual romantic cliches and witticisms except they are not spoken by the actors, they are sung! The movie gets funnier and funnier as it proceeds with its noble, inventive idea - it is equally pleasurable to watch Deneuve singing her shouting matches with her mother. After a while, we forget the actors are singing as the film gets richer and more serious leading to an unexpectedly touching finale.

"The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" also has exquisitely designed cinematography where the interior walls, chairs, tables, staircases and lights consist of primarily bright colors such as pink, blue, green and red - this partly pays homage to Hollywood's musicals where bright colors seemed to seep in every frame, especially Vincent Minneli's musicals. This is also partly a device where we are aware that we're not seeing the real world, but a fictional and dreamlike one.

"The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" is unlike any movie I have ever seen, and it is very similar to Woody Allen's recent "Everyone Says I Love You" where some of the characters sang at the most inappropriate moments, though they mostly sang famous songs of the 20's and 30's. In this case, the actors actually sing the dialogue. Jacques Demy's film has been recently restored because the original Eastman film stock was fading. The result is a film that's bright, vivid and frequently funny and hits all the right notes and some sad ones about how love does not conquer all. The film is a treasure to behold and an antidote to the sappy, robotic romantic comedies of the 90's. No treasure is greater though than the magical, youthful presence of Catherine Deneuve.

Kubrick went and did a funny thing

DR. STRANGELOVE: OR I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB (1964)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

As cynical satires go, there is nothing as audacious, thought-provoking and scary as "Dr. Strangelove," Stanley Kubrick's superb film on what if the United States and Russia were involved in an accidental nuclear attack, and what if it was the fault of the U.S.

The unstable, loony General Jack D. Ripper (played by the commanding, towering presence of Sterling Hayden) is the C.O. of the Burlepson Air Force Base who has access to the code that can send an SAC (Strategic Air Command) wing on its way to bomb Russia. The general initiates the order to bomb Russia, but the irony is that no immediate war is taking place and Russia has no intention of bombing the U.S., though they have every intention to counterattack with their prodigious Doomsday Machine. This is cause for concern at the Pentagon where the President of the U.S. (Peter Sellers) has a meeting in the War Room trying to pinpoint why this unplanned attack was initiated. The President is joined by an ex-Nazi strategic adviser, Dr. Strangelove (again played brilliantly by Peter Sellers), and the stubborn General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott), the head of the Joint Chief of Staff, among other officials. General Buck sees no harm in destroying the Commies and risking the lives of innocent people whereas Dr. St rangelove sees a future where mine shafts will have to be utilized to accomodate the population before being affected by radiation ("Ten women to every man.") In the meantime, the President calmly explains to the Soviet Premier that it all boils down to a crazy man who went and "did a funny thing."

"Dr. Strangelove" was released back in 1964 at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis when nuclear missiles were a worlwide threat - a "Fail-Safe" error could possibly happen and there is nothing in the film that exaggerates that possibility. That is why it was so controversial - the satire in it bit everyone loud and clear. In fact, outside of 1983's "Testament," "Dr. Strangelove" is one example of what can go wrong in a nuclear crisis and why all nuclear weapons should be disarmed. We may be at peace with Russia now but back then, the potential for such a disaster was a strong reality (in a sense, it could happen today since nuclear weapons still exist).

The suspense builds and becomes wire-tight in the hands of director Kubrick, who helmed the similarly chaotic, suspenseful "The Killing" - both films dependent on time as a factor in a crisis. Here, it becomes a chaos for the audience since the attack is inevitable unless the code is revealed to recall the several nuclear-armed planes. One of them is led by the B-52 pilot, Major "King" Kong (Slim Pickens), who reminds his crew that medals and promotions will be handed out when all is said and done. Naturally, Kong has his reservations about the deliberate attack, but his questioning it is reserved in favor of his patriotic duty, even if it means to literally ride on one of those bombs himself.

General Ripper, however, has no intention of revealing the code, especially to the British military attache (also played by Sellers), and they have a couple of humorous scenes together where Ripper explains that distilled water and preservation of bodily fluids is essential in the face of the Russians who want to control everything.

"Dr. Strangelove" is an anti-war, anti-nuclear weapons statement done with biting humor and bitter irony, but it is more effective than Sidney Lumet's serious "Fail-Safe" because it takes such a no-holds-barred approach with its satirical pull. As Kubrick said while writing the film with Terry Southern ("Candy"), "the things you laugh at most are really the heart of the paradoxical postures that make a nuclear war possible." From its phallic symbols of B-52 planes to the sexual connotations of Ripper's philosophies and General Buck's relationship with his secretary ("Of course, it is not just physical") to the hysteria and absurdity in the War Room (a memorable set piece), "Dr. Strangelove" pokes fun but remains scarily real - the threat and the inevitable doom of nuclear fallout is felt from first frame to last. Like Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange," you are left unsure whether to laugh or to take it seriously. But when you hear Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again," you can feel Kubrick's pathos of a world at war with itself.