Thrilling propaganda and intertwining love stories

 O.S.S. (1946)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"O.S.S." is the first official film made about the Office of Strategic Services, a department bent on patriotic loyalty and luring spies into Nazi-occupied territory (its formation eventually led to the creation of the CIA). You know it is official because right at the start of the film, title cards indicate this department's declaration to the making of this film and its accuracy. Despite its sealed stamped approval and how it was rushed into theaters, "O.S.S." could be see as another run-of-the-mill WWII action film but it has some decent performances and some remarkable tension sprinkled throughout. 

We are introduced to Alan Ladd as John Martin, who has a dry practice run of pretending to be a Baltimore electronics official who steals some plans - the ruse doesn't pan out but it shows John has some capability as an agent. A team is arranged by Naval Commander Brady (Patric Knowles) and they are commissioned to run the "Operation Applejack" mission to Nazi-Occupied France. John has reservations about a woman spy, Ellen aka Elaine Dupree (Geraldine Fitzgerald), because she is, pardon the expression, a woman. It turns out that she is more than capable herself, more so than the leader, Gates (Don Beddoe) who is killed by the Gestapo for the subtle mistake of using a fork on his right hand rather than the left!  

"O.S.S." has a truly charming and evil Nazi Colonel (John Hoyt in his debut performance), Nazis who cooperate with the American spies, typical flying missions where soldiers parachute onto hostile territory, igniting bombs inside of sculptures and a radio operator, Bernay (Richard Benedict), who falls for the female military radio contact he send messages to! (This burgeoning love is between two people who have never met). The Bernay section is quite stirring particularly in scenes where he is transmitting codes that make the lamplight and apartment hallway lights flicker. Not every American agent makes it out alive and some are assumed to be meeting their maker. "O.S.S." is sheer propaganda yet it is fast-paced and often intense enough in its endless confrontations with Nazis. Scenes with Hoyt's Nazi who falls for Fitzgerald's Elaine are crackling, enthralling moments because we never know if he is onto her or not. Ladd shows strength and subdued romantic feelings for Elaine without ever showing his emotions. It is that kind of war picture.

Clickety-clickety-click

 THE DESPERATE HOURS (1955)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Bogart was always more intrinsically watchable as a non-hero, non-chivalrous, scheming and distrustful man. Look no further than "In a Lonely Place" or "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" for such darker characters, though one should not dismiss his more heroic pictures either. Either way, Bogart steals the show in William Wyler's "The Desperate Hours."

The plot is simple enough. A random family home is invaded by three escaped prisoners from an Indiana prison. The prisoners need to stay out of sight and they need cold hard cash, and the leader of this trio is the tough, often brutal Griffin (Humphrey Bogart). A package of money is supposed to be delivered to this home address by Griffin's Ohio-based girlfriend. Of course, nothing goes as planned. Griffin's girlfriend is stopped for a traffic violation and so now, she will have to mail the money. Griffin goes head-to-head with the patriarch of this household, Mr. Dan Hilliard (Fredric March), who will not so easily bow down to Griffin's every request. The other family members in this hostage situation are Dan's wife, Eleanor (Martha Scott), who is close to getting a nervous breakdown though she's ever the dutiful wife; teenage Cindy (Mary Murphy) who is considering getting married, and the little brother, Ralphie (Richard Eyer), who insists on being called Ralph and will not kiss his father before going off to school - a simple firm handshake will do.     

As a home invasion thriller, Wyler's direction allows for much introspection of the characters and their motives, some which surprise us. One rudimentary brute is more cold-blooded than the rest (watch out for the scene with the garbage pickup man). Bogart allows a little touch of humanity when his younger brother, Hal (Dewey Martin), decides he wants to cut loose, afraid he will be jailed again. Griffin will not stop from killing but only as a last resort and Dan especially comes close to upsetting the whole situation. The tension builds and the danger of getting killed slowly becomes a realization. We side with the good-natured family of course but they are not hapless victims, and that is the strength of Joseph Hayes' script. Hilliard will vainly protect his family and switches from vulnerable to a man of potential violence when holding a gun. Cindy is no vulnerable teenager, faking an illness by collapsing on the floor with a brave attempt to take one of their guns. Ralph himself doesn't like any of the thugs and lets them know it, also bravely trying to escape through his bedroom window at one point. The wife shows courage as well when she smacks Griffin in the face. 

Bogart and March really bring the audience to their knees with their endless confrontations and verbal attacks. We also get Ray Collins appear as a Sheriff, if only for a few minutes, and there is Deputy Sheriff Jesse Bard (Arthur Kennedy) who has dealt with Griffin in the past. This deftly handled noir thriller shows that Wyler knew had to engage us with an unbearable suspense yarn in the ways Hitchcock did. It truly packs a wallop.

The children of today, that they may be better citizens of tomorrow

DEAD END (1937)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There is a stunning opening shot in William Wyler's "Dead End" where we see the poor tenements below the skyline of massive buildings in the background and, as the camera pans to ground level, there is a street filled with garbage and local folks trying to make a living (a milkman is spotted) living in crowded quarters. The camera then tracks to the left to see part of the East River and an opulent looking building where the wealthy live. That dividing line is crucial to understanding William Wyler's film, part melodrama, part reality and part mob movie. 

There is a group of kids called the Dead End Kids who do nothing but stir trouble (they roast potatoes over a drum fire). They harass the wealthy people in that tall ornate building left and right, in the most harmless ways imaginable (and with the deepest New York accents you can imagine). One incident unfortunately involves the stabbing of a judge's brother, right in the man's hand. Then there is that rich kid who gets robbed by the hooligans of his watch and clothes.The Dead End Kid involved in the stabbing, Tommy (Billy Halop), lives with his big sister, Drina (Sylvia Sidney), who wants to move out to a better neighborhood. She has her eye on her childhood friend, a struggling architect, Dave (Joel McCrea), who has his eye on a glamorous looking blonde, Kay (Wendy Barrie). She lives in the expensive high-rise and when she comes to visit Dave at his apartment, she sees cockroach-infested garbage cans. Yuck!  

Meanwhile, a high-end mobster who had a little plastic surgery done, Hugh "Baby Face" Martin (Humphrey Bogart), has returned to the neighborhood with his partner Hunk and hopes to see the girl he almost married two decades earlier. Baby Face wears silk suits so he hardly has an issue with the wealthy moving in close to the picaresque East River. He also has no issue with the rowdy street urchins because he used to be one himself. 

"Dead End" is suffused with imagery of only one corner of that dead end street next to the East River (the origins of this screenplay are stagebound). Still, during the sequence of Kay going up the tenement stairs or a chase that involves relentless shootouts, we see dark, confined spaces such as fire escapes and rooftops that give this film a special noir look (this is where you can see cinematographer Greg Toland, pre-"Citizen Kane," really at work). Interestingly, there is no visual comparison with the marble-looking high rise apartments and we never see how swanky those accommodations are.

"Dead End" is well-crafted by director Wyler (along with Toland's help) and there are some strong, emotional moments that can pierce and cut through the facade of its singular location. Bogart's mobster has a scene with his mother whom he has not seen in years - her feelings of betrayal of having raised a murderer echo deeply and it hurts Baby Face to his core. I also love Drina's insistence to the police that her brother be released in her care, or how she pines for Dave and such moments feel honest and earned. "Dead End" evokes the world of the poor and the rich and how they will never coalesce. There will always be a dividing line.

If war comes, it's goodbye roses

 MRS. MINIVER (1942)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If you watch William Wyler's "Mrs. Miniver" in principally the first half hour, you might not see anything here other than a domestic drama where not much happens. Sure, you got Mrs. Miniver (Oscar winner Greer Garson), the matron of a British household with two kids and her architect husband (Walter Pidgeon). They are spendthrifts - she goes into town to buy fashionable hats and he is ready to buy a new car rather than fixing the tire of his old car. Their eldest son, Vin (Richard Ney), has just returned from studies at Oxford and pontificates about Britain becoming a feudal system. This is all very simply presented without much fuss or troubling issues. Oh, yes, and there is the girl (Oscar-winning performance by Teresa Wright) that Vin likes whom he dances with and proposes marriage. 

Before you know it, air raid sirens are heard and the fictional town of Belham is struck by bombs from war planes overhead. This is the time of World War II where Vin enlists in the Royal Air Force and Mrs. Miniver is less than pleased though she never voices her concerns other than to her husband (who in turn is part of a riverboat mission to Dunkirk). The rest of "Mrs. Miniver" functions as sentimental war melodrama yet it works - I never felt that the film was thick in sentimental inclinations. We expect certain cliches for this kind of picture yet Wyler instead relies on irony and some unexpected lives are taken during these endless bombing campaigns. One sequence stands out with Mrs. Miniver - a wounded German soldier infiltrates her home and demands milk and food. It is a titillating sequence because we are unsure of the outcome - will he kill her or will she be able to disarm him?

"Mrs. Miniver" is often a stirring drama of the people caught in the middle of a war who are not soldiers  - "it's the people's war." The movie has been pegged as propaganda by Wyler and even President Roosevelt who, at the time, declared the picture needed to be in theaters fast to rally the troops and provide morale. Regardless of how it was pegged and trotted about, "Mrs. Miniver" benefits from a most elegant performance by Greer Garson. She is the soul of the movie - the voice who does not speak about war yet her silence speaks volumes.

Bourgeois threatened by affair

 THE UNFAITHFUL WIFE (1969)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some of the critics at the time felt Hitchcockian tones present in Claude Chabrol's "The Unfaithful Wife" yet the writer-director denied such claims. He is right since his infidelity-in-a middle-class family picture is more about a slow progression of unrelenting tension felt in almost every frame without the benefits of heightened suspense by way of 120 volts of Bernard Herrmann's music. "The Unfaithful Wife" is leisurely-paced yet within its portrait of the artifice of a unified domestic family, something wicked this way will come.

Charles Desvallees (Michel Bouquet), working in the insurance business, is in a presumably happy marriage with an attractive wife, Hélène (Stéphane Audran). What's not to love; they have a son and live in a desolate French countryside manor so this all points to a beguiling bourgeois existence. From the start of the film, something is askew when Charles' mother visits, complaining to Hélène that he needs to lose weight. When we are introduced to Charles, he seems fit and jolly enough for a Frenchman who loves to drink and eat. When he is away from his heavy workload at the office, he realizes Helene needs to enjoy life a tad - sometimes they frequent a nightclub or have dinner at a fine elegant restaurant. Still, right from the start, I had the sneaky suspicion that Charles was well aware his wife was committing adultery. When she makes a phone call, we know she is calling her lover and Charles catches her without admission from either one - she claims it was a wrong number.

Charles eventually hires a private detective to check where Hélène goes when she frequents Paris. Eventually we get an address and the identity of the lover and it leads to a confrontation delivered with tension and suspense. The odd thing about Chabrol is that he refuses to indulge in heightening any moment - it is all deadpan delivery. Charles appears to be a bland individual and Helene shows a spark of sexiness that he may or may not find troubling - their bedroom scenes are nothing more than slight pecks. He knows she has desires but he has erred in thinking their domesticity is enough for their existence as a family (I suppose a sex life went out the window long before they had their son). She clearly needs passion yet the irony is that her lover (Maurice Ronet) is only a tad more animated than Charles. 

"The Unfaithful Wife" is not easy to digest or like, plainly due to the emotional disconnect to these self-absorbed characters. That is precisely the point, that a marriage has to entail something more grounded than just having a child and a pleasant home. For Charles, there is nothing else and that is his own tragedy - a man with no passion and no joy other than devotion and commitment to his family. No matter what.

Oceans of blood

 THRONE OF BLOOD (1957)

An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

"Throne of Blood" is pure nihilistic chaos. There is no morality, only the consummation of power by any means necessary. Violence is etched in every frame of this film, and it is also encouraged and understood as the only way. Ascension of power has no limits other than someone else vying for the same climb to the desired throne. 

Set in 1400's feudal Japan, this is Akira Kurosawa's theatrical, Noh-style of Shakespeare's bloody "Macbeth" except that the dialogue from the Bard is nonexistent - only the feeling and tone are somewhat present. The sets of the Spider's Web Castle, the sole visible impenetrable fortress of note, are spare, formally empty spaces with some noticeable painted directional stripes on the walls. One other section has dried blood on the wall. Aside from the castle, the outside forest is constantly drenched from rainy weather where the spirits reside, foretelling of prophecies. There is a white witch in a hut spinning a wheel speaking in almost otherworldly tones and foretelling that samurai warrior Washizu (a terrifying Toshiro Mifune) will eventually become Lord of the Northern Garrison. Furthermore, Washizu's childhood friend, Miki (Minoru Chiaki), will lead as Commander. As the witch continues speaking of prophecies, Washizu learns he will be Lord of Spider's Web Castle and Miki's son, Yoshiteru (Akira Kubo), will also ascend to being a lordship. Is this ascension easily obtained? Perhaps, since the current Lord of Spider's Web Castle, Tsuzuki (Takamaru Sasaki), later informs the samurai warriors of their predestined positions. 

What is deeply chilling is watching Washizu's wife, Asaji in the Lady Macbeth role (truly scary performance by Isuzu Yamada), who seems to foretell her own prophecies - that is to say, she persuades with incalculable conviction that Washizu needs to kill the current lord and blame it on the guards. Asaji never makes much eye contact with her husband and when she does, she resembles the ghostly witch. Asaji is also pregnant yet there is a stillborn death, and she slowly goes insane (at one point, she washes her hands of blood stains except there is no blood or water). 

"Throne of Blood" is chock full of atmosphere and impending dread with vicious rainstorms and immense fog. Kurosawa has a crafted a story of an endless cycle of violence steeped in superstition and fulfilled prophecies. Mifune's last stand in an ocean of deadly arrows is still one of the most thrilling and intense action scenes ever recorded on film. A stone cold masterpiece.

Early Ozu comedy

WHAT DID THE LADY FORGET? (1937)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia 

I love films that exist as observational pieces on family dynamics. Yasujiro Ozu made this his own dynamic, exploring complicated relationships between families with sometimes devastating results. "What Did the Lady Forget?" is his second sound film and is more comical than his later works yet there are nuggets of truth buried in its observations.

A wealthy professor of medicine, Dr. Komiya (Tatsuo Saito), needs precious time away from his overbearing wife, Tokiko (Sumiko Kurishima). The old man is about to play golf and then decides not, opting to have a drink at a Ginza bar known as the Cervantes Bar! Since his progressive teenage niece from Osaka is in town, Setsuko (Michiko Kuwano), she follows him to the bar and drinks and smokes (oh, these rebellious teens!)  Setsujo stands up to Tokiko, refusing to cater to her demands of not drinking since Tokiko sees her as too young. The doctor is more amused than upset at his niece, and they frequent together at the bar. Of course, Dr. Komiya cannot admit to being at the bar since he's supposedly playing golf and it is raining! Komiya can't escape his wife finding about his lies and it leads to a moment of him slapping his wife in the face that almost stops everything cold. 

At 71 minutes, "What Did the Lady Forget?" explores these characters though not with quite enough depth - it is more of a treatment that could've been expanded to a longer running time (note the running time of Ozu's later efforts). I did find it to be exquisitely made and consistently absorbing in its depiction of the interior lives of this family - most of it feels like a stage play though it reads as much more cinematic. Most memorable characters are Saito's doctor, who rubs his head when he is happy, and Kuwano's luminous Setsuko. "What Did the Lady Forget?" is not a bad place to start if you have never seen an Ozu film.

When you wish to become a real boy

 PINOCCHIO (1940)
An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

Kind, older, warm-hearted Geppetto has creates toys out of wood. His shop is filled with happiness, warmth on every inch of his place, from cuckoos clocks to a black cat named Figaro and a female fish named Cleo. A sunnier disposition cannot be had in this place until he finishes creating Pinocchio, a wooden puppet in the form of a young boy. 

Darkness enters the picture after Pinocchio is brought to life by the Blue Fairy, who has performed this miracle because Geppetto is such a good man. Like any good wooden puppet, a conscience is needed and who better than Jiminy Cricket - he consistently breaks the fourth wall making noises and sound observations. But Jiminy can't perform too many miracles himself when Pinocchio is easily deceived by a devious fox ironically named Honest John and his relatively mute partner, Gideon the Cat. This leads Pinocchio to be used as some sort of freak show at a puppet theatre, sans strings, managed by the mean, ugly Stromboli. This delights the audience but eventually our innocuous puppet is kept locked in a birdcage, presumably held captive forever. The Blue Fairy appears wondering how Pinocchio got led astray so quickly. We get the most famous scene perhaps in all of Disney's movies where Pinocchio lies and his nose grows longer and longer until tree branches start forming (Jiminy tells him quietly, "Leave me out of this.") After Pinocchio and Jiminy escape Stromboli's carriage, Honest John finds him again and lures him to Pleasure Island where all the kids are transformed into donkeys! And then we get a huge frightening whale that can probably makes waves around Moby Dick! 

"Pinocchio" is a marvelous delight, completely memorable and tightly paced from start to finish. It also has a couple of memorable, catchy songs notably "When You Wish Upon a Star" (sung by Jiminy) and amazing three-dimensional colorful animation that is among Disney's greatest efforts ever (right up there with "Fantasia"). A movie to revisit again and again (I had the good fortune of seeing it in theaters back in its 1970 reissue) - a true national treasure and a fantastic fantasy where kids will be kids but they can learn to grow and learn from their mistakes. Only Disney could make such a message feel and look so beautiful. You just might excitingly jump up and down after seeing it.     

I know thee not, old man

 CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT (1965)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Orson Welles has said that the most important character in the literary land of Shakespeare was Falstaff, the colorful overweight, boozy knight and nobleman who was friends with Prince Hal, the Prince of Wales. Falstaff was the most popular in Shakespeare's plays but never at the center of attention, certainly not as depicted here. With Orson Welles playing Falstaff in his own "Chimes at Midnight," it is no surprise to see him as the primary focus. This is where it feels right, a comical character is expanded on a story that becomes a rather serious drama by the end, about the rise and fall of a friendship and paternal love that becomes a betrayal. Shakespeare purists in the past found fault with Welles soliciting and combining certain passages and dialogue from Shakespeare's own history plays such as "Henry IV Part 1 and 2" (and a non-history play, "The Merry Wives of Windsor") but it is exciting and sometimes buoyant to see a different point-of-view from a supporting character. This is also one of the more spirited films Welles had ever made.

Buoyant would describe Welles' performance as Falstaff, a messy, jovial man who finds much merriment when he is with Prince Hal (Keith Baxter), and their gallivanting and humorous asides inside the Boar's Head Tavern can remind one of Robin Hood's own friendship with Little John. A tension is rising as Hal is admonished by his father, the austere King Henry IV (John Gielgud), for residing at that jolly tavern with its swarm of women and for hanging with Falstaff. Gielgud's reading of Shakespearean lines ("And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; For thou has lost thy princely privilege. With vile participation") is about "displacing air," a quote attributed to Welles' own documentary "Finding Othello," and it is almost musical rather than spoken - you can imagine that this amoral King can destroy with words, not actions. Hal is rash with his father yet something has affected the young prince. In many stirring and emotionally grounded scenes with Falstaff, Hal is slowly detaching himself from his friend, his second father as it were, and that words will in fact cause more damage than actions. How could they not in the land of Shakespeare?  

There are many astounding sequences particularly the Battle of Shrewsbury where we see soldiers falling on each other after being struck by arrows and swords in the thick of muddy grounds. Welles employs fast cutting and a sense of randomness in war - it feels bestial and inhuman. Falstaff stands on the sidelines, not directly involved in the battle and it is clear he is not physically able to fight this civil war. After Prince Hal (principally mentioned as Prince Henry in the history plays) kills Hotspur (Norman Rodway), a rambunctious military leader from Northumberland (both actors delivering lines of regret beautifully), Falstaff wants to take credit for the killing (more so in the play where he thrusts the sword into Hotspur's leg) with the intention of impressing a dubious King. Falstaff wants to feel a kinship with Hal even in battle (earlier it is in a planned robbery of pilgrims carrying royal money in the woods that also feels like something out of Robin Hood). 

"Chimes at Midnight" keeps you glued to the screen with Welles dominating with his immense presence, as if this part of England cannot rightfully exist without Falstaff. When we arrive at the final heartbreaking sequence of Prince Hal becoming Henry V, Falstaff is overjoyed at the news and springs forward at the coronation screaming "My king!" The king dismisses Falstaff, pretends not to know him, and has no disassociated himself from the tavern folk. The newly crowned Henry V may become as lonely and isolated as his own father. Falstaff's joy has turned to bitterness, something he may have foreseen because he felt he mattered to Hal. With Hal often walking away from Falstaff after the battle or leaving the tavern in earlier scenes, the heartbreak continues in moments that seemingly evoke Welles' own sadness and detachment from the Hollywood industry. All alone to weep for what might have been.

The Passing Barge of Romance

 L'ATALANTE (1934)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

French director Jean Vigo would surely have become one of France's greatest directors had his life not been cut short by tuberculosis. At the stunningly young age of 29, Vigo passed on and his last film, "L'Atalante," was compromised and trimmed without his approval by the studio. There had been six versions of the film since yet it wasn't until 2001 that we got a more fully-realized work that captured Vigo's swan song in all his splendor. 

"L'Atalante" is a French river barge commandeered by Captain Jean (Jean Daste) who has just married  a village girl named Juliette (German actress Dita Parlo). Their wedding procession leads them out of a village to the barge, presumably living with Jean in the barge as they travel around the world. The conditions inside the barge are not the best as evidenced by several different cats and kittens, all kept by a Pere Jules (Michel Simon), the old seaman who has collected all sorts of knick-knacks on his worldly journeys. His knick-knacks include a conductor puppet, a jar containing the severed hands of a mate who died long ago, and one too many fish nets, all inside a very cramped room.When the bored Juliette enters his room, it feels as if she is being greeted by an entire world that she had never seen. She is quite taken by Pere Jules and tries to be tender with him, though this does not lead to any intimacy beyond acknowledgement and potential friendship. In one shocking moment, Pere Jules shows her a knife he collected from his travels, cuts himself with it and she is shocked and sticks out her tongue for a second, as if she was about to lick his wound. You probably will not any moment in like that American pre-Code cinema.  

All this is interrupted by the madly jealous Jean who tears apart Jules' room. Jean yells mostly at Jules for having collected too much junk but he's mostly mad at Juliette. Promises of a night out in the town of Paris are cut short by Jules who takes off with his young cabin boy assistant to see a fortune teller, and steals a horn for his phonograph! Meanwhile, Juliette and Jean eventually visit a merry dance hall where they encounter a happy-go-lucky street peddler who flirts with Juliette and dances with her. Jean gets jealous again and they return to the barge. Eventually, Juliette sneaks out at night to Paris and Jean leaves abruptly on the ship, insulted and raving mad at her for leaving their bed. 

"L'Atalante" has a potentially flimsy story that is transformed by Jean Vigo's heart and attention to detail specifically the harsh conditions of the ship, and of Paris itself with its lack of jobs and crime in the streets, that makes it sing heartily. The movie is at times joyous and pulsates with the vibrancy of this couple's love - it gives you a lift to see the happiness in this couple and Juliette's genuine smile (I was quite moved when they sort of wrestle with each other on top of the barge). When their marriage goes sour, we feel for them and want them together - they are clearly naive and inexperienced in love. They need to mature and respect each other and know their love can overcome anything. Jean becomes a stoic man, unable to play checkers with Jules. We get parallel actions of them in bed, writhing with pleasure and wanting to be close. It is saddening for a second, then finally heartrending to see them reunite. There's a mere hesitation only because maybe neither one knows where they really stand. You embrace, you love, and now there's the rest of your life. It is a genuine romantic movie and, though it is not nearly at the level of 1927's "Sunrise," it will still give you goosebumps for days. 

C for Cinematic, H for Hitchcock

 DIAL M FOR MURDER (1954)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is no accident that the perfect murder is near impossible in reality, not to mention in movies and mystery books, because there is always a slip up. Tony Wendice (Ray Milland), a former tennis pro, is cocksure that a planned murder by a former associate of his will be delivered without a hitch (no pun intended). Just when you think of every conceivable aspect of a planned murder, however, some small detail is always overlooked. When you watch "Dial M for Murder" unfold, you are thinking where the slip up could be. Considering Wendice doesn't commit the murder, he did not think about unplanned and unforeseeable actions that derail his plans. 

The opening introduction of Wendice with his soon-to-be accomplice, Charles Swann (Anthony Dawson), and the initial discussion of buying a car leads to Swann's criminal background and the perfect murder is truly riveting stuff and holds your attention. The whole scene takes place in a single room in an apartment and director Hitchcock cleverly stages the scene with various angles, including the customary low angles and high angles of his later work. No shot is repeated twice and by consistently switching it up with occasional pans across the living room to a desk with curtains in the background and selective master shots, it becomes a master class in how to make a room with two people talking crackle with excitement. That the actors involved are suave, sophisticated Ray Milland and inquisitive, dapper Anthony Dawson are sufficient yet we also get angelic-looking Grace Kelly as Wendice's not-so-angelic cheating wife and Robert Cummings as a mystery novelist who is in love with Kelly. Adding enormously to the proceedings is John Williams as the fastidious Scotland Yard detective. You never think for a moment you are watching a filmed stage play.

"Dial M for Murder" is not great Hitchcock but it is tight, formal storytelling where everything falls in place precisely. It's just the murder that doesn't. 

College widow and swordfish

 THE HORSE FEATHERS (1932)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Harpo Marx gets to impressively play the harp for an extended period of time and catch some dogs, maybe a policeman. Groucho Marx gets to uproariously sing "Whatever It Is, I'm Against It" as a professor in front of the faculty, and makes a mockery of everyone. Chico Marx is finicky about getting the right password for entry to a speakeasy, and argues until he accidentally gives it away ("Swordfish" of course). Zeppo Marx, the most normal of the Marx Brothers, is interested in the "college widow" (Thelma Todd). Meanwhile there is some business about kidnapping two college football players.

"The Horse Feathers" is pure tomfoolery fun, though not nearly as anarchic as "Monkey Business" or "Duck Soup" (the latter is tied with "A Night at the Opera" as their greatest comical work). There is so much to enjoy here from the double, sometimes triple takes delivered by Groucho as well as his various one-liners. I howled with laughter at many but especially at Groucho who believes that a "father further" is more appropriate than "Anything further father?" The constant interruption in the college girl's bedroom from Groucho coming and sitting on her lap while opening an umbrella, to Chico and Harpo both bringing in blocks of ice and throwing them out the window (Not sure what the heck that is all about). The football sequences are insanely funny, particularly the antics of the Marx Brothers playing cards and eating hot dogs or leading a chariot with horses tied to a garbage wagon in the middle of the field. 

For a 1932 flick pre-Code, most of "Horse Feathers" is gleefully inoffensive and never crude (though double entendres are plentiful). There's also the unusual sight for its time of Groucho breaking the fourth wall and telling the audience to head to the lobby while Chico sings and plays piano. You just gotta love the glorious antics of the Marx Brothers because anything goes. 

Note: The term "college widow" refers to a young woman who remains in a college year after year dating different male students. Nothing further father.   

High School as a big garbage can

 THE BLACKBOARD JUNGLE (1955)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I would argue that for potency alone, "The Blackboard Jungle" has not lost none of it nor is it dated. This 1950's school of juvenile delinquents may not have cell phones or computers or carry guns but their attitudes have not changed nor their propensity for violence (it has only gotten worse). In the 2020's, the grossly negligent attitudes of the 50's have now become practically nihilistic. This movie seems innocent by comparison but not completely alien by any standards.

Richard Dadier (Glenn Ford), a Navy veteran, is is seeking the most noble of jobs - a high-school teaching position in English at an inner-city school overrun with misfits and gang members. One of them, Artie West, the leader (Vic Morrow), taunts "Teach" relentlessly. First, Artie might listen to Mr. Dadier, then he ignores and scoffs at him. Eventually, there is a brutal assault on the streets of this rough neighborhood where Dadier is beaten up along with math teacher Josh Edwards (Richard Kiley). Police are called yet Dadier has no idea who beat him up or slashed his briefcase. Naturally, he suspects one of the students and it doesn't take long for him to find the culprit in Artie. Only the shenanigans go beyond the classroom when Artie starts sending letters to Dadier's wife with false adultery accusations. There are also false bigotry accusations within the classroom. A Navy man can only take so much before making a stand. Mr. Edwards quits after his jazz records are all destroyed by these students. Dadier's pregnant wife (Anne Francis) insists that her bruised husband quit and teach elsewhere. Nothing will make Dadier quit, however, not even hearing the heartless remarks by another teacher (Louis Calhern) who calls the school "a big garbage can."

"Blackboard Jungle" shows some students are willing to learn despite peer pressure from Artie and other loyal members. One of them is Miller (Sidney Poitier), who calls Dadier "chief," and he is the smart guy of the class whom others listen to. Miller also has interest in music and is preparing for a Christmas play at school. Dadier knows that with Miller's help, he might be able to reach his students. Dadier will not quit no matter how often he's pushed or threatened with switchblades. 

"The Blackboard Jungle" is a rough, tough picture for its time, showing how far juvenile delinquents have gone to defy the establishment. What may have irked some audiences back in 1955 wasn't so much the teens in the audience finding something that spoke to them but rather the cold reality of the school system. One teacher is either sexually assaulted or beaten or they have their property destroyed - no one is safe from the teens' wrath. Being destitute brings forth desperation and anger and the teens felt it and, I suspect, so did the teenage audience who danced in the aisles to the tune of Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" playing in the opening credits (later the song became synonymous with "Happy Days"). The movie is ostensibly a rock and roll-type picture with the vastly underrated Glenn Ford showing he is the perfect idealistic teacher - the one who is ready to fight for what he believes in. We have had cinematic teachers for many decades but Ford has that special gift and that is, beyond his tough exterior, he shows he cares. He genuinely cares. Not dated at all.

Note: Look for Paul Mazursky and a beaming Jamie Farr (listed in the credits as Jameel Farah) as students in Dadier's class.    

Spruce Goose as a flying ocean liner

 NON-STOP NEW YORK (1937)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Starting off as a noir piece about a mob killing amidst the Depression-era of New York, "Non-Stop New York" doesn't settle long enough for a thriller dynamic with a love story and some sociological tension. The movie is a non-stop roller coaster ride filled to the brim with wit, pungent casting and a futuristic-looking plane that seems to be years ahead of Howard Hughes' own Spruce Goose. Except of course that this Spruce Goose is seemingly a mini-ocean liner with propellers!

A zestful English actress, Jennie Carr (Anna Lee), is penniless and is eager for at least a cup of coffee. Thankfully she has enough change for a coffee, which she promptly drops on the floor when bumping into a guy named Billy (James Pirrie). Billy is a mob attorney and wants out of the business, only Jeannie doesn't know that. She is invited to Billy's apartment and then ejected when the mob boss Brant (Francis L. Sullivan) and some goons arrive and a shot rings out. Jennie had seen the men but not the murder, and there is a vagrant who witnessed it and is charged for a crime he didn't commit. You see, it looks as if the film is building to another noir until we enter Hitchcock terrain via a Trans-Atlantic flight from New York to London.

What is delightfully escapist fun about "Non-Stop New York" is the eclectic cast of characters including the aforementioned Anna Lee's Jennie Carr, who's a little on the naive side. John Loder is the disbelieving Scotland Yard inspector who takes an interminable amount of time to believe Anna's story (I would have trouble with her version of events too). There's also a bespectacled young musical prodigy (Desmond Tester) who annoys all passengers with his saxophone (which leads to a great joke about a parachute); Jerry Verno as a steward who has his share of double entendres, and the grand villainy of Francis L. Sullivan as Brant who pretends to be a Paraguayan general named Costello (isn't Costello normally an Irish or Italian surname?) 

"Non-Stop New York" has a wildly contrived plot (why all the shenanigans to put Jennie in jail briefly and then have Brant follow her back to New York?) Still, I did not mind and found the film fluffy yet never less than breezy fun. Wait till you get to the parachute joke!

One of the liveliest action-adventure chase films of all time

 THAT MAN FROM RIO (1964)
An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

The sheer joy from one exacting frame to the next, from one dazzling action-filled sequence to the next, is evident in Philippe de  Broca's "That Man From Rio." Context is needed here for a 1964 international production so think of it as the Charlie Chaplin movie that was never made - a high-spirited, frenetically paced action-adventure movie with a sly wink to the audience containing an unusual hero who flies, glides and runs across the screen much like Chaplin would've. Maybe even a dash of Fred Astaire is here as well.

Jean-Paul Belmondo is Adrien Dufourquet, a simple French Air Force pilot who loves his Agnes (the elegant and luminous Francoise Dorleac), his fiancée, and witnesses her being kidnapped and runs after her as he jumps through a window! He finds a motorcycle and chases her, finds her at Orly airport, has no ticket yet he finds entry with an old man in a wheelchair that had me rolling with laughter! This is just the beginning, and never mind that the movie opens with a museum robbery where an antique Brazilian statue is stolen. "That Man From Rio" never lets up, taking us from Paris to Rio de Janeiro to Brasilia and finally the deep corners of a jungle where three antique statues need to be placed in their proper places to allow the sunlight to reveal the location of priceless diamonds! (Yep, "Raiders of the Lost Ark" reference that also harks back to 1954's "The Secret of the Incas"). We also got a shoeshine boy named Sir Winston (Ubiracy De Oliveira, who has a contagious laugh) who figures in the action in the most unexpected and hilarious ways. We also have time for energetic Brazilian dancing and some bossa nova music, and a scene at some dive with a tremendous singer (Simone Renant) that evokes Old Hollywood that leads to a spectacular barroom brawl.  

It helps that Belmondo is a hell of a hopeless romantic hero who wants nothing more than to find and be with Agnes - he could care less about antique statues or villainous men dreaming of wealth beyond their dreams (Adolfo Celi as a rich industrialist and Jean Servais as a museum curator round out the incredible cast but I wont' say which one is the bad guy). Adrien will fly a plane uncontrollably and, thrillingly, upside down. Adrien will run across unique landscapes in Brasilia such as several seemingly empty Modernist buildings and towers and a construction site with scaffolds that results in one of the biggest laughs of the entire movie (I would not dream of giving it away). The daring escapades and car chases (including driving a pink car with green stars) are dizzying and breathless, all as well executed and perfectly timed as any "Mission: Impossible" flick. Belmondo's Adrien has a Harold Lloyd moment on a building facade that goes way beyond what Lloyd ever accomplished (and that's saying something). Belmondo and De Broca always try to one-up previous cinematic stunts and every shot seems to hold on long enough so that we see Belmondo accomplishing death-defying moments that will make you fear for his safety and wince. 

Witty, hysterically funny, sporadically spoofing James Bond, and showcasing Belmondo and Dorleac as true, genuine, charismatic movie stars who happened to be good actors as well, "That Man From Rio" is bound to entertain anyone who wants pure escapism and breathtaking vistas with a hero you can root for. Its popularity certainly paved the way for Indiana Jones and most other tongue-in-cheek action-adventure flicks. This film is also special to me because my father introduced me to it over 40 years ago, and I am eternally grateful. It is one of the stepping stones to my growing interest in international cinema. Bravo!  

Unreliable witnesses

 RASHOMON (1950)

An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

"Rashomon" is an institution, not just a unique film for its time. Its title is part of the lexicon, though I rarely hear it nowadays. I would call it one of Akira Kurosawa's greatest films as it stirs the soul and is remarkably provocative. It establishes a murder with motive but we are never sure how it really occurred. We hear eyewitness accounts and those who participated in the murder, yet can we trust the eyewitnesses or the participants? 

The presumed first eyewitness is the sorrowful woodcutter. He walks through the woods with an axe and finds a dead body. The woodcutter (Takashi Shimura) runs away to find the police and gives his testimony to the court. There is a slight problem: his account of what occurred varies from what he tells the court versus his admission to a commoner. Was it a sword that was thrust into a samurai's chest or was it a dagger with the pearl inlay? The rough, tough, maniacal bandit Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune) claims to have killed the samurai, but did he? And what of the samurai's wife (Machiko Kyō)? Under a trance where her dead husband's spirit is summoned, the claim changes to suicide and the samurai used a priceless dagger to kill himself. The samurai, Kanazawa (Masayuki Mori), couldn't live with his wife's virtue taken by the bandit so he offed himself. Is this a reliable version of events? Is any version reliable in terms of how the rape and murder occurred? We know with certainty that the wife left the bandit and her husband, and we know the samurai is dead. 

Who is telling the truth of such a bizarre incident? I can't say which is the most truthful account yet one wonders why the woodcutter suddenly confesses to the monk and the commoner that he witnessed the actual murder! There's the issue of the missing dagger and writer-director Akira Kurosawa starts cleverly building the narrative to include multiple versions told from multiple people yet the incident never occurs the same way. It is a fascinating, complex structure that incorporates the time-honored literary tradition of flashbacks within flashbacks. We start piecing it together and realize that detailed truths are evasive - the murder is real but the telling is all fabrication and contradiction.  

"Rashomon" is based on a 1922 Japanese short story titled "In a Grove" by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa and it deals with similar themes but the most telling is unreliability. As it reaches a riveting conclusion involving the monk, the commoner and the woodcutter's raging discussions on truth and selfishness (they are in the present time structure discussing this most horrific crime), "Rashomon" touches us with hope that shoulders on its ambiguities. There are also shades of honesty, most tellingly Kanazawa's wife who says, "To have my shame known by two men is worse than dying." Not disclosing her shame and asking two men to fight to the death with the sole survivor remaining with her is indicative of her making sure the event unfolds her way. Exemplary vital cinema, and one of the few films that truly challenges the idea of truth.

No eternal damnation, just eternal love

 FAUST (1926)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

F.W. Murnau had done something unusual with his crossbreed of Marlowe's "Dr. Faustus" and Goethe's "Faust" versions and earlier literary texts - he has made it terrifying. The notion of selling your soul for all the riches in the world is not exactly what is explored in this "Faust" film. Sure, Faust, the lead protagonist (Gösta Ekman), does sign his name on a contract with Mephistopheles and sells his soul yet it is mostly for the people in town dying from the plague. When that doesn't seem like enough, Faust wishes to do away with his whiskers and old age and become young again. When that is accomplished, Faust falls in love with Gretchen, a virginal young girl who runs away from Faust. Naturally, Mephistopheles can help cure that romantic problem with a tasteful golden necklace.

1926's "Faust" is a mite closer to the original Goethe text (more so than later adaptations) and it has its own distinctive F.W. Murnau peculiarities. For one, the sight of an enormous Satan casting a shadow with his wings over a German town is a terrifying image. There's also the sly Mephistopheles (scene-stealing Emil Jannings in an atypical role) chasing after Gretchen's aunt, Martha (a colorful turn by Yvette Guilbert), that seems to belong to another movie (she also wears a bracelet given to her by the devil yet not much comes out of it). It is genuinely funny and tingles the spine at first, especially not knowing what this devil is really up to, but then it gets repetitious. Faust chasing after Gretchen also goes beyond the tolerable meter as they run circles around the town's children, and keep circling and circling. He clearly pines for her.   

Still, I have to give F.W. Murnau credit where it's due with the depiction of Gretchen's painful scenes (a nerve-wracking turn by Camilla Horn) where she solicits help from the townspeople who ignore her after being named a harlot by her own murdered brother (Mephisto does the deed). The truly tough scene of Gretchen walking in a blizzard and seeking shelter with her newborn is one that will stay with me forever (she conjures an image of a cradle and places the newborn in it, wherein the baby promptly dies). Also powerful are scenes of an older Faust, an alchemist, trying to burn books including the Bible. I was quite touched when Faust seizes upon Mephistopheles to help rescue Gretchen from being burned to the stake. Faust doesn't realize that Mephisto is a trickster and unreliable and, if memory serves, Faust has always been a pathetic literary figure whose temptations outdo his sensibilities. Our sympathy for him is stretched when, earlier in the story, he seduces the Duchess of Parma (Hannah Ralph) resulting in the devil killing the Duke in a duel - all this for eternal sex, I gather, though it is short-lived.

"Faust" is amazingly shot and directed, in particular the use of looming, stark shadows (a major staple of German Expressionism that was fluently used in Murnau's "Nosferatu"). I also love the distorted various rooftops that seem to collide in depth of field shots seen from an ascending road. Jannings is memorably evil with his raised eyebrows and black mane of hair that seems impossible to maintain (of course, he's a devil so he can). "Faust" stands as a sardonic, exemplary, often haunting meditation of Goethe and Marlowe's texts (though I do not see much of Marlowe's influence here). Somehow, in Murnau's and Faust's mind, love beats the demon.   

Wolf Man suffering from amnesia

 THE WEREWOLF (1956)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

What is seemingly another werewolf film trying to conjure memories of Lon Chaney, Jr. and the Universal Monster lot has some other tricks up its sleeve. "The Werewolf" also fulfills what Lon Chaney, Jr. did, build sympathy for a man who doesn't want to transform into that howling creature. The sympathy seems stronger yet less sad and unfortunate than with Chaney, but make no mistake - Steven Ritch as the amnesiac man who is frightened by the prospect of transformation does a helluva job of making us care about his plight.

Most of "The Werewolf" has Ritch running around the mountainside, trying to evade the police after he killed a bully outside a bar. This guy doesn't need moonlight to change - he can transform during the day (some day-for-night scenes get confusing with daylight scenes). It turns out this poor guy was in a car crash, rescued by a pair of doctors who had injected wolf serum into him to help deal with the fallout of some presumed nuclear holocaust. These doctor Moreau-types also have ideas of creating a super race of werewolves!

"The Werewolf" has some decent black-and-white photography yet the werewolf transformations are not nearly as fun as Lon Chaney Jr.'s haunting changes in "The Wolf Man" (the werewolf looks a lot like that sad sack in "The Return of the Vampire," both by the same makeup artist Clay Campbell). Still, the film plays it straight and has subtle sci-fi overtones that lend it a little pizazz. I love the national forest look and the firm sheriff (Don Megowan) who has no time for love with a doctor's assistant - he'd rather hang with some of the residents holding torches. I also love seeing the poor man's family trying to convince the lycanthrope to remedy his sickness and come home. Weak ending is saved by some decent acting and a couple of imaginative werewolf attacks. 

Mild Lycanthropy shocks

 WEREWOLF OF LONDON (1935)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Of all the werewolf movies I've seen (with certain modern exceptions), Henry Hull's botanist character is one of the dullest. Hull has expressive eyes that can show fear and emit some level of pathos but the ill-written screenplay doesn't allow much for dynamism or soul. 

In the rather clunky opening sequence set in some backlot meant to represent Tibet, Hull's botanist, Dr. Wilfrid Gendon, is in search of an uncommon (and fictional) flower known as the Mariphasa lupina lumina. With his trusty binoculars, he locates the flower in record time. Dr. Gendon and his exhausted associate travel through the mountainous region and are almost stopped by an invisible force! They continue on until they find the flower and Wilfrid is attacked by a werewolf and bitten on the arm! Back in London, Wilfrid shows off his foreign plant collection, one of which includes a Venus flytrap and a plant that could easily be mistaken for something out of "Little Shop of Horrors." A certain Dr. Yogami (Warner Oland) is after the same flower that can heal or prevent transformation, likely due to the fact that he's also been afflicted with lycanthropy. 

The film has some mild atmospheric flavor for its customary Universal London fog and cobblestoned streets, though that does not set it apart from the norm of its time. A lot of the indoor scenes are visually cramped. As for the actors, Hull is inefficient as the insufferable doctor and it is hard to distinguish between the minimal werewolf makeup (the monster's widow's peak is its major distinction) and the doctor - they are practically the same except for the fangs. This werewolf has a predilection for attacking and killing women - our first misogynist werewolf? It also visits a zoo for some reason (housing a couple of wolves - nice touch) where the guard is having an illicit affair! Guess who gets killed? 

I loved seeing the delicate-as-a-flower Valerie Hobson (appearing the same year as Frankenstein's fiancee in "The Bride of Frankenstein") playing the doctor's wife who slowly loses any hope of romance with this introverted man. She seeks the companionship of her old friend and past lover, Paul (the delightful Lester Matthews). Why didn't someone just cast Matthews as the werewolf and give Hull a chance to be as charismatic as Paul? 

"Werewolf of London" is sort of entertaining and fascinating to see as the first official full-length werewolf movie before Lon Chaney, Jr. immortalized it. Change the casting of the lead protagonist and they might have made a more impactful horror flick.

War fought on the frontlines of alleged domestic bliss

THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)

An Appreciation by Jerry Saravia

When World War II ended, it signalled a victory for America after four arduous years of defeating the Japanese and the Nazis. The American war-time propaganda illustrated that soldiers came back from the war virile and ready to dive right back into society without a hitch. They were America's heroes yet the sad reality was that many young soldiers never came back and were killed in action. "The Best Years of Our Lives," a stupendously enlightening and divine motion picture, shines a light on three soldiers who survived and returned from the war. They reluctantly and awkwardly matriculate back into society with mixed results. Director William Wyler and the astute writers Robert E. Sherwood and MacKinlay Kantor have fashioned a relatable story of coming home to a different kind of war being fought - emotional struggles with family and marriages rather than the Germans' piercing bullets. War is hell and so is the homefront.

The three men returning from combat are Air Force Captain Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), a married soda jerk who had lived with his parents in an impoverished neighborhood and married a woman he hasn't heard from in years; Sergeant Al Stephenson (Fredric March), who worked in a bank and is married to the faithful Milly (Myrna Loy) and has two children who have matured; Navy sailor Homer Parrish (Harold Russell) who lost both of his hands and has hooks instead that can be tricky to use. The men have difficulty in acclimating to the environment they left behind for too long. Fred comes home to his apartment only to find his wife is not present and has never written to him. When he tries again, she's home and delighted yet she doesn't comprehend his mental issues, which include PTSD (shell-shock was the term at the time, though you never hear it mentioned here). Al Stephenson doesn't have to rebuild his relationship with his wife or his grown-up children yet he feels the need to imbibe alcohol - to cure his potentially ailing mind and revisit his favorite bar. Homer loves the girl-next-door but he imagines she will not want to spend her life with a wounded man - she may not realize his deeper wounds are in his heart than in his physical handicap. 

"The Best Years of Our Lives" doesn't sugarcoat Fred's trauma but you almost get the sneaky suspicion that he misses the war as far as his relationship with his brothers-in-arms. A scene where he visits an airport graveyard with inoperable war planes is powerful stuff. Fred is battling his vivacious wife (Virginia Mayo) who wants to go clubbing every night - Fred is more comfortable being home. Al Stephenson seems to fare better but that is because he has a family that supports him and a bank job that is seemingly secure, as long as he doesn't give away too many loans to GI's. It is Homer who should be the weakest link to the war, considering his wounds, yet he tries to move forward except he's not sure how. Will that girl-next-door be the ticket to domestic bliss? And what of Fred's obvious love for Al's daughter, Peggy (Teresa Wright)? Peggy reciprocates that love and is willing to break up his unhappy marriage. That is strong stuff for 1946. And let's not get started on that drugstore customer who has the audacity to tell Homer that the war was for suckers! I can imagine audiences getting a little irate over that statement so soon after the war ended.

"The Best Years of Our Lives" is thankfully fussy with character details and nuances over melodrama. This film could've been a high-pitched soap opera and could've featured footage of the war itself with the soldiers on the frontlines. Wyler opts for the war fought on the frontlines of alleged domestic bliss in suburbia and the cities. This is peak cinema of the 1940's.