Foster on Film – Page 103 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

The Naked Truth (1957)

Oct 021957

Nigel Dennis (Dennis Price) blackmails the high and mighty: £10,000 or their stories will appear in his scandal sheet. Four victims, insurance salesman Lord Mayley (Terry-Thomas), TV personality Wee Sonny MacGregor (Peter Sellers), author Flora Ransom (Peggy Mount), and model Melissa Right (Shirley Eaton), decide to fight back, and plan to eliminate Dennis with what can only be described as their meager criminal skills.

An ensemble piece in the fading days of Post-War British Comedies, The Naked Truth has its satiric moments (politicians and TV stars taking advantage of their status to cheat the people; attempts to buy a bomb from the IRA), but this is mainly a comedy of errors. Our hapless heroes fall into the river, have furniture dropped on their toes, are accidentally drugged, and are arrested, and always because of making silly choices. It is all amusing but never laugh-out-loud funny.

The cast is the film’s main strength. Dennis Price (Kind Hearts and Coronets) could do smarmy in his sleep, just as Terry-Thomas (Carlton-Browne of the F.O., Blue Murder at St. Trinian’s, The Green Man, Make Mine Mink) could become a likeable upper-class-twit. They are both in fine form. Price is underused, as was generally the case in a career that never went as far as his talent dictated, but Thomas has plenty of opportunity to act the fool. With abundant double-takes and blustering, he couldn’t have been better. The beautiful Shirley Eaton (Carry On Sergeant, Gold Finger) is so adorable it’s hard not to reach out and squeeze her—which is a way of getting strange looks at a theater. Joan Sims, who is best known for her parts in twenty-four of the Carry On films, plays Flora Ransom’s daughter as a walking, twitching, comedy of hysteria. They are supported by the mainstay of British comedy, Miles Malleson (Kind Hearts and Coronets, Scrooge, The Importance of Being Earnest, Barnacle Bill, Horror of Dracula) in one of his many small roles, this time as the muddled fiancé of Flora. And in such fine company, it is the formidable Peggy Mount who steals the show. She is a force of nature. In one of the film’s best gags, Mount’s Flora runs about town asking druggists, supposed criminals, and even the police for a “Mickey Finn.”

While I’ve mentioned the superb work of just about everyone in the film, I haven’t yet mentioned its most famous participant, Peter Sellers (Carlton-Browne of the F.O., Heavens Above!, The Smallest Show on Earth). That’s because he isn’t very good. Oh, he’s not bad, but he is working purely as a slapstick comedian. He makes lots of funny faces and does strange walks, plays with accents and wears disguises, none of which is funny on its own. It helps that his servant mentions that Wee Sonny MacGregor is not a very good actor and always over plays. Interesting that this condemnation is given to Sellers’ usual bits that he uses again and again in later films.

The Naked Truth is no classic of the British comedy moment, but it is fun. It will also leave you repeating “You mean to say I get all that with such a small premium?”
As the title was too salacious for the conservative U.S., it was renamed Your Past is Showing on this side of the Atlantic. The DVD release is advertised under its British name, however, the title card still bears the American title.

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Barnacle Bill (1957)

Sep 291957

William Horatio Ambrose, a seasick sea captain (Alec Guinness) from a long line of sea captains, purchases a ramshackle “resort pier” where he holds dances. When the greedy town council attempts to take the dock, Ambrose registers the stationary structure as a ship, which puts it beyond the control of locals, and sells “cruises” to seasick patrons who want the fun of a voyage without actually going to sea.

By the time Barnacle Bill was released, Ealing Studios had already sold off its physical studio and was about to shut down altogether. After so many great films in the late ’40s and early ’50s, Ealing couldn’t adapt to changing times. But it went out doing what it did best. Barnacle Bill is a typical Ealing film. There’s a group of very British, eccentric characters in an outlandish situation and they take it all with superhuman control. Mainstay Alec Guinness is the lead, as he’d been so many times before, and plays a variation on a character that is familiar to any fan of Post-War British Comedies.

Sure, it’s all been done before, and done before by Ealing, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a lot of fun. Guinness puts in another top notch performance, with a bit more gusto than normal. There’s real joy to be seen as the captain wildly dances with the babes on his pier. The supporting cast is excellent (when has an Ealing film had a weak supporting cast?), the characters, particularly Ambrose, are engaging, and the story presents plenty of opportunity for witty banter and mild laughs. There’s no sour notes.

I’d have given Barnacle Bill a higher rating, but originality does count. If you aren’t familiar with Post War British Comedies, then this is a four star laugh riot. But for those of us who are, it is too predictable, and a touch too comfortable. There are no surprises, no shocks, and nothing to get you thinking. If you are in the mood to watch an Ealing comedy, this is an excellent alternative to re-watching one of the classics.

Released in the U.S. with the title All at Sea.

Guinness also appeared in the Post War British Comedies, Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), Last Holiday (1950), The Lavender Hill Mob (1951), The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Card (1952), The Captain’s Paradise (1953), The Ladykillers (1955), To Paris with Love (1955), The Horse’s Mouth (1958), Our Man in Havana (1959).

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

Sep 151957

Sleazy press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) survives by getting cruel, dictatorial J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster) to mention his clients in his column. Hunsecker makes and destroys lives and careers on a whim. Outside of his own power, the only thing Hunsecker cares about is his sister (Susan Harrison), and he wants to keep her to himself. She has fallen for musician Steve Dallas (Martin Milner) and he sets sycophantic Falco to break things up.

Poison has never been so well represented on screen. These are toxic people in a world of cancer and filth. It’s beautifully presented malignancy. Film Noir twists the world and shows the worst in people and society. Almost all Noirs involve thieves and killers. This Noir involves the press and politicians and entertainers and suddenly those thieves and killers look pure and wholesome. The normal Noir villains are after riches or revenge or they are just too stupid not to be brutal. But Falco and Hunsecker are poison by nature. They don’t do evil. They are evil. Falco lies more often than he tells the truth. He manipulates and blackmails. He stabs his uncle in the back and prostitutes his sometimes girlfriend, all the while fawning over Hunsecker who ridicules him. But then Hunsecker demeans everyone. He threatens as often as Falco lies, and always acting as a self-righteous paragon of virtue, wrapped in the flag.

And such Loathsome characters need top performances to be believed, and they got them, with career bests from Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster. It was a major shift for Curtis who had been known as a lightweight; he proved that he was a real actor. It was an upturn for Lancaster as well, who’d never had a roll even half as meaty. The rest of the cast are swamped in their wake. This is a two man film and they rule it.

But the key to the brilliance is not the actors, no matter how good they are. It is director Alexander Mackendrick. He’d been an Ealing Studio director, turning out some of the great comedies of the era: The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Ladykillers (1955). He’d learned through comedy the tricks to make a film move quickly and to make unbelievable dialog sound perfectly normal. With the help of cinematographer James Wong Howe, he turned up the contrast and twisted the cameras and edged a drama into Noir. When novelist and original screenwriter Ernest Lehman had to quit due to illness, Mackendrick brought in playwright Clifford Odets, and together they reworked every scene, creating memorable dialog that no human would say though you wish they would, but fit perfectly coming from Falco and Hunsecker:

“Match me, Sidney.”
“You’re dead, son. Get yourself buried. ”
“Harvey, I often wish I were deaf and wore a hearing aid. With a simple flick of a switch, I could shut out the greedy murmur of little men. ”
“I’d hate to take a bite outta you. You’re a cookie full of arsenic.”
“The cat’s in the bag and the bag’s in the river. ”
“Son, I don’t relish shooting a mosquito with an elephant gun, so why don’t you just shuffle along? ”
“I got nothing against women thinking with their hips. That’s their nature. ”

Mackendrick put those words into the right mouths, and brought a contorted New York to life around them, and made something astounding. Not that it was enough to sell tickets in 1957. The movie was a bomb, but history has judged it differently and it is now considered one of the greats. Hunsecker was inspired by columnist Walter Winchell, which also doesn’t matter any more. The film matters. See it.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Five Reels

The Seventh Seal (1957)

Sep 131957

Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a disillusioned knight, and Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand ), his squire, return to Sweden from the crusades, to find a land of fear, ignorance, and fanatical religion, as the black death decimates the population. When Death (Bengt Ekerot) comes for the knight, he challenges the black robed figure to a game of chess, to delay the inevitable. During a break in the game, Block meets Jof (Nils Poppe) and Mia (Bibi Andersson), and offers to escort them to his castle. Their party grows to include a simple blacksmith (Åke Fridell), his runaway wife (Inga Gill), and a seemingly mute girl (Gunnel Lindblom), with Death always nearby.

Bergman’s masterpiece has withstood its key moments becoming cultural icons (read: clichés) as well as numerous parodies, remaining one of the most powerful works ever put on film. Thoughtful, engaging, and emotionally complex, this is what cinema is all about. An old fashioned allegory, without old fashioned ideas, The Seventh Seal asks: how do we live in a world devoid of God? And it answers: very well indeed, for a very few. For the rest, believers and skeptics alike, there is suffering.

After ten years of pointless warfare on behalf of The Church, Block has lost his faith, but not his need for it. The empty belief of the blind is no longer enough for him. He’s seen too much, and not enough of the supposed works of God: “Why must he always hide behind unseen miracles, vague promises, and hints about eternity?” He wants knowledge of God, but he’s been in enough churches, and gone to the Holy Land, and has no place left to look. He is now just a tired observer of life, anguishing over the idea that it may all be meaningless.

Jöns, on the other hand, revels in the meaninglessness. He is the intellectual voice of the film, the one who understands the universe. There is no afterlife, and there is no magical old man in the sky. There is life, and that should be enough for anyone. In the end, Block whines and pleads before Death, while Jöns stands boldly. He jokes and laughs and insults what he sees, but like his master, he’s tired, and seen too much suffering to be happy.

The people they meet tend to be either ignorant and vicious, or ignorant and thoughtless, which makes them act cruelly. The world of man is not a nice place. Raval, an ex-man of the cloth who persuaded Block to go on the Crusade, now robs the dead, is capable of murder, and abuses a man in an inn with fire and a knife. The crowd’s reaction is to laugh at the man’s pain.

The exception is Jof and Mia, traveling performers who believe in Heaven and Hell, but don’t put much thought into what it all means. Jof claims to have visions, though except for the figure of Death, they are likely to be nothing more than products of his imagination. Real or not, it doesn’t matter since they have no influence over the pair, but are just something else pretty to look at. Visions don’t supply meaning any more than the teachings of the church. The couple enjoy each other and their young son, and a warm spring day, and in that, Bergman says, is the answer to all life’s questions. It is no accident that they are named Jof and Mia (Joseph and Mary), but they are not images of Jesus’ parents. Just the opposite. They suggest a replacement for religion. The only peace Block can find is an hour sitting with them, eating wild strawberries and drinking fresh milk. But it isn’t a peace he can hold onto. He wants more then everything you could ask for, and of course, he doesn’t find it.

The Church is monumentally unhelpful to Block, as are the citizens dying or in fear of death. Flagellants scream and moan and wave their whips, but God doesn’t respond. Huge crosses with ghastly twisted Christs are carried through the muddy streets, and the plague continues. The priest yells that all will die, which is the closest thing to truth he ever says. Block ignores them and Jöns comments on how ridiculous it is for The Church to think that anyone would believe such rubbish in this modern day. Unfortunately, more believe than don’t. It should be no surprise to anyone familiar with religion that a poor deranged girl is blamed for bringing death down on the world, and she is tortured as a witch and taken to be burned. Block, hoping that there is some truth to it, asks the girl where the Devil is, because the Devil would know about God. Of course, she knows nothing. There is no God, and there is no Devil.

However, there is Death. He’s not particularly frightening, nor is he kind. But then we’ve already seen the world isn’t kind, and disease certainly isn’t, so why should Death be pleasant? He is approachable, and willing to chat. He can’t be put off forever, nor can he be fooled (Block thinks he has done a good deed in letting a couple escape while Death was busy with the game, but they avoided death by simply staying out of a plague-filled castle). Death is the lone supernatural entity of the story. Block is sure that he must have secrets and know God, but Death makes it clear it’s not the case. Death has no reason, and no master. He simply is.

For insight into the working of modern religions, you need go no further than Jöns conversation with a church painter, who is creating images of death and pain at the request of the local priest:

Painter: Why should one always make people happy? It might be a good idea to scare them once in a while.
Jöns: Then they’ll close their eyes and refuse to look.
Painter: They’ll look. A skull is more interesting than a naked woman.
Jöns: If you do scare them…
Painter: Then they think.
Jöns: And then?
Painter: They’ll become more scared.
Jöns: And fall into the arms of the priest.

But a skull isn’t more interesting than a naked woman. And with that woman (or a naked man), and some strawberries, and green grass on a hillside, you can find something far better than any god. Bergman’s view on what gives life meaning may be anti-intellectual, but it’s hard to argue with.

Fantasy, Foreign Language, Reviews Tagged with: Five Reels

Pharaoh’s Curse (1957)

Sep 111957

In British-occupied Egypt, a band of archaeologists, lead by the loutish Quentin (George N. Neise), have gone on an expedition without permission. With rebellions rising up, the military sends Capt. Storm (Mark Dana), along with Syliva (Diana Brewster), the recently arrived lout’s wife, to find the team before the locals hear of it. On route, they meet a strange untiring woman, Simira (Ziva Rodann), who warns them that they must make it to the tomb before it is too late. By the time they arrive, Quentin has opened the sarcophagus, making it officially too late. Soon people and animals begin to die by having all their blood removed.

Pharaoh’s Curse is a low budget affair, but manages to avoid the cheapness that is the hallmark of 90% of mummy films. There are few sets, but they are properly dressed, and the exterior shots have a vast, desert-like feel. Better still, the make-up for the “mummy” is nicely done and more than the usual nominal bandages. For the opposite, see Hammer’s The Mummy’s Shroud.

Pharaoh’s Curse also rises ever-so-slightly above many of its competitors by doing something different. Not wildly different. But the same-old-same-old beginnings, with archaeologists ignoring a curse and breaking into a tomb, gives rise to a mummy who isn’t like every other one. OK, it isn’t astounding, but I am grading the imagination on display in mummy movies on a curve, so anything even slightly original is significant.

Storm is a bit too square-jawed to care about him, but Quentin being so loathsome does make Storm seem better. I did like Syliva as well as the party’s doctor, who keeps pointing out that desecrating tombs might not be a great plan. I was rather taken by Simira, but then the actress played a Batman TV show villain, so she was bound to be memorable. Best of all is the “mummy” and his surprisingly good creature design.

The story flows along pretty well until Storm makes the galling decision to allow the lout to continue his excavation in order to answer some “questions”: If you don’t believe in ancient magic, it is pointless; If you do, it is stupid.

Pharaoh’s Curse could have used more energy and a more exciting climax. It could be forgotten if it was a werewolf or vampire film, but passable mummy films are in short supply, so it necessary viewing for horror fans.

Mummies, Reviews Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

Les Girls (1957)

Aug 241957

Years ago, Joy (Mitzi Gaynor), Sybil (Kay Kendall), and Angèle (Taina Elg) worked as dancers for Berry Nichols (Gene Kelly) in his show, Barry Nichols and Les Girls. Since then Sybil has married Sir Gerald Wren (Leslie Phillips) and written a gossipy book about their past, and Angèle, now married to the rich Pierre Ducros (Jacques Bergerac), sues for libel. In court, three different accounts of events are told, which cannot all be true, but do say a great deal about who these people are.

I saw Les Girls before I saw Rashomon, or even knew what it was. Rashomon has a remarkable legacy, and Les Girls, released seven years later, is where that starts. And here’s where I become a heretic; I think Les Girls does a better job with the Rashomon effect. Truth is subjective, and there is no way to determine reality as there is no single reality to determine. So yeah, this is a musical comedy that gets as deep as an artsy drama, with 50% less pretension.

It’s clear in Les Girls that each storyteller is purposefully leaving out elements, and also lying at times. But mostly each is recounting things as they perceived them. Was Sybil a drunkard? Was Joy sleeping around? Was Berry a hypocrite? Who had a relationship with whom, and is there an answer to any of those questions? Hint: there isn’t.

If that sounds overly serious, it isn’t. This isn’t a drama; it’s barely a musical with just six numbers in two hours, and only two of them are off of a stage. This is a comedy, and it’s funny, and surprisingly engaging. Kendall is normally singled out, and I don’t disagree as she’s a hoot, both with delivering hysterical lines and with physical comedy, but the rest of the cast uphold their ends.

The dances are strong as well—not surprising with Kelly involved. The Biker-parody ballet is pure Kelly at his best. Gaynor and Elg keep up with him, and Kendall does well enough for the part she plays. None of the routines break new ground, but they are excellent examples of their type.

What keeps Les Girls from being remembered as fondly as other Kelly vehicles is the lack of an unforgettable, hummable song. As a whole, the music, the last written by Cole Porter for the movies, is better than in Summer Stock or On the Town, but those had Get Happy and New York, New York. You tend to forget that On the Town doesn’t have anything else because you’re humming New York, New York when it’s done. Les Girls has You’re Just Too Too! And Ladies in Waiting, which are fine songs and work great in the film, but I don’t feel the need to pick up the soundtrack album to listen to them on their own.

Where it is remembered fondly, besides Kendall, is in its set design and costuming. It won the Oscar for best costumes, and rightly so. The Ladies In Waiting faux-nude backs must have instigated some interesting discussions by the censors. The entire film looks fabulous, but it’s hard to think of anything besides those lone ribbons the girls wear on their butts.

Les Girls is smart and fun, and never received the recognition it deserved.

My other reviews of Gene Kelly films: Cover Girl (1944), Anchors Aweigh (1945), Ziegfeld Follies (1946), The Pirate (1948), Words and Music (1948), On the Town (1949), Summer Stock (1950), An American in Paris (1951), Brigadoon (1954), It’s Always Fair Weather (1955), The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967).

Musicals, Reviews Tagged with: Three & 1/2 Reels

The Admirable Crichton (1957)

Jul 151957

Lord Loam (Cecil Parker) does his best to be progressive with regard to the equality of man, though his butler Crichton (Kenneth More) will have none of it. When the two of them, along with the lord’s three daughters, Mary, Catherine, and Agatha (Sally Ann Howes, Mercy Haystead, Miranda Connell), two of the girl’s suitors (Jack Watling, Gerald Harper), and a maid (Diane Cilento) are shipwrecked, they stick to social hierarchy, but now with Crichton on top as the governor.

An outlier of the Post-war British Comedy movement, The Admirable Crichton (released with the title Paradise Lagoon in the US) has the movement regulars Cecil Parker and Miles Malleson, involves quirky characters in an unusual situation, and takes shots at class distinctions. But it is also a period piece and lacks the “We can do it” ending that most of the Ealing movies had, instead going for bittersweet.

The humor comes almost exclusively from class conflict. More does a reasonable job, although he’s more at home in dramas such as Sink the Bismarck! The supporting cast, particularly Harper and Cilento revel in the comedy, and Parker steals every scene he’s in, which is almost always the case in any film he’s in. Around the halfway point, class ceases (for a time) to cause conflict, and the film turns into a frothy drama with romantic leanings. It’s still fun but has an insubstantial feel.

In the end, this is an enjoyable way to spend an hour and a half and little more, which is fine.

Cecil Parker’s other Post-war British Comedies include The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Ladykillers (1955), Happy Is the Bride (1958), The Pure Hell of St. Trinian’s (1960), and Heavens Above! (1963)

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

20 Million Miles to Earth (1957)

May 261957

A spaceship returning from Venus crashes into the sea off Italy. The gruff and square-jawed Colonel Bob Calder (William Hopper—from The Deadly Mantis) is rescued, but the rest of the crew is lost. A child, Pepe (Bart Bradley), finds a specimen of Venusian life, washed out of the rocket, and sells it to a wandering scholar (Frank Puglia). By coincidence, the professor’s daughter (Joan Taylor) is a medical student and is called in to treat Calder. In the strange atmosphere of Earth, the creature grows quickly to gigantic size.

There has never been anyone like Ray Harryhausen. In no other case does a special effects creator trump directors, producers, and actors, but he always does. 20 Million Miles to Earth is a Harryhausen film and if you are watching it, that’s the reason. It is also the best of his early career.

Produced in the thick of the ‘50s alien invasion cycle, 20 Million Miles to Earth has many of the weaknesses common to those films: the human characters aren’t interesting, the plotting is simplistic, people act stupidly, and the sets and cinematography are uninspiring. There’s also the issue of a Kenny. For those of you not seeped in Japanese monster movies, a “Kenny” is a precocious child that we are supposed to think is cute (but never is) that keeps showing up when he should have no part in the film. In Japanese movies, a Kenny is uniformed in overly short shorts (a cultural aspect we manage to escape). This is hardly the only American monster flick with a Kenny—the The Black Scorpion’s is even more obnoxious—but it does stand out in that Pepe is the cause of all the trouble. His obsession with American cowboy films and need for toys at any cost cause death and pain, yet he is never punished and learns nothing.

But those flaws aren’t as severe as in other films of the subgenre, and the problems are made up for by the Ymir. The reptilian beast has a great look and moves in ways that make us stop motion fans giddy. The critter (and the film) are also aided by avoiding the normal vicious monster cliché. The Ymir is not violent by nature and only harms things when he is mistreated (and mistreated, and mistreated again) giving it more in common with Frankenstein and King Kong than The Deadly Mantis. Every scene with the monster is a joy, and he invoked my sympathy.

The message is very light and is mainly noticeable by contradicting the pro-military stance of similar films; in this case, lots of guns are not a good thing and the outsider is not evil, but rather humans are foolish and cruel. It isn’t laid on very thick, but it is hard to miss that Pepe going nuts with his new play pistols is followed by the US military pulling out their toys. And it is pertinent that the farmer decides to stab the Ymir in the back.

20 Million Miles to Earth is a B-level monster movie, but it’s a good one and shows off Harryhausen’s talent.

Ray Harryhausen’s other features are The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), It Came From Beneath the Sea (1955), Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers (1956) The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), Mysterious Island (1961), Jason and the Argonauts (1963), The First Men in the Moon (1964), One Million Years B.C. (1966), The Valley of Gwangi (1969) ), The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973), Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), and Clash of the Titans (1981).

Giant Monsters, Horror, Reviews, Science Fiction Tagged with: Three Reels

The Deadly Mantis (1957)

Mar 301957

A series of mysterious disappearances in the arctic leads the military to call in paleontologist Ned Jackson (William Hopper). His keen use of a magnifying glass allows him to work out that the culprit is a giant praying mantis, recently released from the ice. Ned teams up with Colonel Joe Parkman (Craig Stevens) and hot magazine editor Marge Blaine (Alix Talton) to stop the giant creature.

Once again, the film follows the ‘50s giant monster template. The secluded area where the monster first appears has moved north (or returned north as that’s where things start in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms). Our triad is a soldier, the girl he romances, and a scientist, with the change that our scientist is neither old nor short. Plot-wise, we’ve seen it all before.

Where The Deadly Mantis stands out is in how literal it makes its metaphor. This is a cold war film and the mantis is a stand in for the Russians. The film begins with an explanation of the US radar system—requested by the actual US government to be added to the picture to calm average citizens and assure them that we are always on the lookout for the commie attack. And it isn’t a brief comment. Buckle up for a full-on lecture with all the maps and stock footage you could ever desire. But don’t worry, there will be even more stock footage later.

The military is all over the film—with stock footage jet fighters taking off every five minutes—and is competent and caring (though individual soldiers are a bit girl-crazy). Civil defense is often mentioned and there’s very much a feeling of “we’re all in this together against those sneaky commie mantises.” The in-film government even requests the help of the civilian Ground Observer Corps, a real organization of normal folks who watched for enemy aircraft—it was shut down in 1959. Strangely, this never gets too heavy or feels like we’re joining Joseph McCarthy. Partly that’s due to the characters being likable and partly due to the focus being on everyone working together by choice rather than giving up rights for safety or questioning our neighbors.

The acting wasn’t going to win any awards, but is passable. The cinematography gets by with the help of some genuinely spooky fog-filled scenes. And, grading on a curve, the effects are good. The mantis is one of the best non-stop-motion creatures. The before-mentioned fog helps. We get to see plenty of the monster, but often in situations that hide the weakness of the model.

OK, so it doesn’t make sense or follow any kind of science. Bugs don’t work this way. Air force pilots don’t lead army soldiers in ground-based attacks. But then that kind of silliness is a given going in. While worse in almost every way than Tarantula, its pace and silliness makes it more fun.

Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Curse of the Aztec Mummy (1957)

Mar 101957

The Bat is back with a new plan to get that Aztec treasure so that he can continue his cruel animal experiments. Well, maybe it is the same old plan. He kidnaps Flor, and drugging her, uses hypnosis to learn the location of the breastplate and armband. Luckily our heroes have the aid of a mysterious lucha libre.

Why does The Bat have to hypnotize Flor? Everyone knows the room where the breastplate and armband were last seen within the temple. The Bat followed our “heroes” on their first excursion into the pyrimid. She can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. Well, it does give a chance for a recap of the beginning of the previous film, so that’s good I suppose.

If you’ve seen the first (and you really should before watching this), you know what you are in for. It’s a little less tense and a little sillier, but it is basically the same low budget strangeness. While the filmmakers had a juvenile audience in mind all along, that is clearer in The Curse of the Aztec Mummy, with the masked wrestler acting as a kind of superhero, and the “young brother” getting a bit more action. We even have a scene with the wrestler dangling over a snake pit.

Yes, it is a pretty stupid film, but it is easy to laugh at.

Foreign Language, Mad Scientists, Mummies, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

Blue Murder at St. Trinian’s (1957)

Feb 271957

With headmistress Fritton (Alastair Sim) in jail, the older girls of St. Trinian’s concern themselves with marrying a rich Prince. Since he wants to see the girls before choosing one, Flash Harry (George Cole) and the girls rig a contest to win a trip to Europe, and blackmail a jewel thief on the run (Lionel Jeffries) into dressing in drag and pretending to be their headmistress. Since no reputable company will drive the St. Trinian’s girls anywhere, down on his luck Captain Carlton-Ricketts (Terry-Thomas) is hired. Once again, intrepid police Sergeant Ruby Gates (Joyce Grenfell) has infiltrated the school to see what illegal activities the girls are up to.

I suppose I should be able to sit and watch Blue Murder at St. Trinian’s and simply enjoy it for what it is: a wild farce with clever lines, sexy girls, and some of the best character actors to hit the screen. It’s a laugh-out-loud picture, and I give it 3 s, meaning you’ll want to see it.

Yet, I find it a disquieting film to watch. It is a sequel, in all the bad senses of the word. There are plenty of retreads from the original (such as a very unfeminine man in drag). There is the loss of the star (Alastair Sim only pops in for a cameo) while characters that were meant to be sidekicks take over the leads. Pretty much all the flaws of a sequel are here, and as I watch, I keep thinking “that was funny, but it should have been funnier.” I don’t question that I’m being unfair. The Belles of St. Trinian’s was a perfectly formed film, and is on my list of the ten best screen comedies. Is it surprising that Blue Murder couldn’t live up to a film that got everything right? Both George Cole and Joyce Grenfell recreate their characters from Belles, and both are delightful, but not as good as they’d been the first time around. Terry-Thomas comes off best for me, as he wasn’t in the first; I can enjoy him for what he does without that nagging feeling that he should have been better.

Like the first, the plot really doesn’t matter. The fun comes from the offbeat personalities, and how they react to the destruction caused by the schoolgirls. The focus now is on the older girls, which means there are a lot less of the great scenes of little ten-year-olds torturing people. Instead, their greater age (the “lead” girl is played by a 24-year-old actress) allows for more gags involving sexy schoolgirl uniforms. Hmmm. Sexy school girl uniforms. Well, I guess there is something to be said for the switch.

Blue Murder at St. Trinian’s is better than most comedies you’ll find, is a successful film in the Post-War British Comedy movement, and is worth catching at a revival theater or owning if you can play region 2 DVDs. It only fails in comparison to The Belles of St. Trinian’s and what it might have been.

It was followed by The Pure Hell of St. Trinian’s (1960), The Great St. Trinian’s Train Robbery (1966), The Wildcats of St. Trinian’s (1980).

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

The Captain’s Paradise (1953)

Feb 101957

At sea, ferryboat captain Henry St. James (Alec Guinness) spends his time in deep conversation with men. In Gibraltar, he lives with his domestic wife Maud (Celia Johnson), enjoying a quiet home life. And in Spanish-Morocco he is married to the wild Nita (Yvonne De Carlo), and spends his nights drinking and dancing. His first officer (Charles Goldner) expounds on St. James’s perfect life, and he agrees. But women are not so simple, and refuse to stay in the boxes that St. James has defined.

Alec Guinness did all his best work before he was a big star, in a string of very British comedies. The Captain’s Paradise is not the best of those, but is a solid entry and a charming little film. De Carlo, best known as Lily Munster on the Musters TV show, is gorgeous and energetic and too few remember she had a more significant career in her early years. A talented dancer, she convinced Guinness (who was not skilled in that area), as well as the director, that Guinness should do the mambo with her, and spent a week training him. It resulted in one of the film’s best sequences. Cilia Johnson is equally good as the most English of wives.

This lightest of comedies was thought racy for its time. The U.S. version was even changed to make Nita the captain’s mistress to avoid him being a bigamist (though since he clearly lives with her, I’d have thought that would be worse). But it isn’t racy, nor does it have bite. And it won’t elicit peels of laughter. Instead it is a gentle, amiable film that’s easy to appreciate, if not love.

While not an Ealing Studios film (like other Guinness comedies of the ‘50s, The Man in the White Suit, The Lavender Hill Mob, The Ladykillers, and Barnacle Bill), it feels like it is. It deals with criminal behavior—but not too criminal—in a congenial way, and presents us with eccentric characters, just as those Ealing comedies did. And like those, it is worth your time.

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three & 1/2 Reels

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