Foster on Film – Page 96 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

My Fair Lady (1964)

Aug 031964

Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), on a bet with Colonel Pickering (Wilfrid Hyde-White), takes in flower girl Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn) with the intention of teaching her proper English such that she could pass as a high class lady.

My Fair Lady is a nice film, a pleasant viewing experience. That sounds like I’m damning it with faint praise, which is the case only because it tends to be overrated. It’s well made, and beautifully filmed (if clearly set-bound). The songs are all wonderful. Hepburn is lovely, as she always is. Harrison is one of the better talk-singers and pulls off the role of Higgins admirably, even if he doesn’t equal Leslie Howard’s performance in the 1938 Pygmalion. It is one of the better Broadway musical to film adaptations.

It’s a good film, perhaps a very good film, but it isn’t a great one. Why not? The editing isn’t top rate, with some pacing problems, but that’s minor. Likewise some of the sets are less than they should be, but again, not a big deal. However, there are two items that matter, that keep it from being what it could have been. Firstly, it follows the stage musical, thus it has the same problem that it did: the ending. Pygmalion originally ended with Eliza leaving, with plans to marry Freddy. It’s the ending the entire play was moving toward. Shaw’s notes have Eliza and Freddy married, running a shop set up with money from Colonel Pickering. They all visit from time-to-time, though with some tenseness between Eliza and Higgans. But the theater wanted to make more money, and persuaded George Bernard Shaw to change the ending because it was assumed that people would buy more tickets if the two protagonists end up together, no matter that the entire play said they shouldn’t. So Shaw tacked on Eliza returning, changing nothing else, thus leaving it clear that she shouldn’t. The musical took the changed ending, as did the film. It’s stranger in the musical, since Freddy is given the one great romantic song, On the Street Where You Live, which is structurally odd since it leads to nothing.

The second issue is Hepburn. She is lovely, and always bewitching. I’ve no doubt she does a better job than almost any other actress could have, but then we’re looking at the difference between “very good” and “great” and in two ways, Hepburn is lacking. She is always elegant; either by talent or choice, she is incapable of being grungy. That elegance servers her when she’s supposed to be mistaken for royalty, but as a poor, dirty, guttersnipe, it doesn’t work. You always notice her, and she always seems like a princess.

Of course the biggest problem is that Hepburn doesn’t have a very good voice. She did an excellent rendition of Moon River in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but that’s because the song was specifically written for her limited vocal range. The songs of My Fair Lady were not. She tried, but she wasn’t good enough, so her songs were dubbed by Marni Nixon. And listening to the now released Hepburn versions, they were right to dub her. Nixon has a strong voice and could hit the notes Hepburn couldn’t, but she wasn’t the same caliber of actress, or maybe it was just the distancing nature of dubbing that leaves the songs lacking in emotion. They sound the way you’d expect to hear them in a musical review—A Night With Mani Nixon and the Songs of Lerner and Loewe—instead of with the weight they needed in a narrative musical.

And yes, this does lead to Julie Andrews. As is well known, Andrews played Eliza on Broadway, but was passed over in favor of Hepburn as Jack Warne didn’t consider Andrews a big enough draw. So she was hired by Disney for Mary Poppins, became a big draw, and rightfully won the Oscar. Clearly Andrews would have been the better choice, but it didn’t have to be her, just someone who was a high quality singer and actress (granted, no one else is coming to mind besides Andrews, but I’m sure there’s someone). It’s easiest to hear the problem with direct comparisons, and luckily YouTube allows for that.

The first is the Marni Nixon dub of Show Me as heard in the film—nice singing, but emotionally lacking. (Try from :18-:28 seconds)

This is the Hepburn’s attempt. The emotions are there, but the notes are painful to listen to. (:49-48 is the same section)

Finally, here’s a version of July Andrews singing the same song. Her voice is even better than Nixon’s, and she has emotion to spare, which brings life to the role. (:31 to :45 in this version)

So, Hepburn/Nixon were good. Even very good. But “very good” isn’t enough for greatness. Which is fine. A good film is a good film, and this is nice. It just isn’t a masterpiece, and shouldn’t be elevated beyond it’s range, as was done in 1964 when it won the Best Picture Oscar over Doctor Strangelove.

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

The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? (1964)

May 031964

After making fun of a fortuneteller, Jerry is hypnotized by her into carrying out a murder. She has poured acid on previously controlled subjects (and some not controlled) and keeps them in her closet, so Jerry is in much more trouble then he knows.

Now that’s a name for a movie. It says, “this movie is weird,” and it’s right. Not much in The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? follows normal filmmaking traditions. Most films don’t stop the action to show a rather long, amateurish dance number, much less do it over and over. Most don’t have a guy in an obvious Halloween mask walking about.

As for the plot, well I usually try not to tell too much with my brief synopsizes, but for this movie, my two sentences amount to a majority of the film. Almost nothing happens (leaving more room for dance numbers). Director Ray Dennis Steckler plays Jerry under the name Cash Flagg. Now where did he get the idea that Cash Flagg was a reasonable name? Perhaps an incredibly strange name. Maybe a mixed-up name. Ah! It’s all becoming clear. The zombies in question are hypnotized, acid-burned guys who live in the closet. I don’t think Romero got his inspiration here.

For clarity: this is a poorly directed, horribly acted, pathetically plotted film with no frights and no action, but some dancing. As a film, I can’t recommend it to anyone. However, it is bad in a way that’s so odd that it is a kick to make fun of it. Toss it on when you have some friends over, drink a lot, point, and laugh.

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Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: One Reel

The Raven (1963)

Nov 011963

Erasmus Craven (Vincent Price) is visited by a raven at his window that turns out to be Adolphus Bedlo (Peter Lorre), a magician transformed in a failed duel with sorcerer Scarabus (Boris Karloff). Informed that his dead wife, Lenore (Hazel Court), has been seen in Scarabus’s castle, Craven, his daughter Estelle (Olive Sturgess), the now-human Bedlo, and his son Rexford (Jack Nicholson) set off to visit the imposing Scarabus.

The fifth Poe-based film directed by B-movie mogul Roger Corman for AIP, The Raven has even less connection to the macabre poet than the others. While House of Usher and Pit and the Pendulum were dark tales, The Raven is a spoof, with only a brief appearance by the bird and a partial quote of the poem to keep up the pretense. But Poe’s work has rarely made good cinematic material, so the deviation benefits the movie, which is one of Corman’s best.

The story is trivial, and the sets and special effects are barely functional, but the cast couldn’t be better. Price, Lorre, and Karloff were all masters of comedy, though seldom given a chance to display their prowess. Their timing is perfect. This is a chance to hear three of the great voices in cinematic history together, and it doesn’t disappoint. Price is so marvelously calm and polite throughout the picture. Lorre is in hysterical mode, while Karloff is Karloff. If you’ve heard him narrate The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, you know what you’ll hear. He speaks with menace, but always with a twinkle. Nicholson is overshadowed by the older masters, but it is nice to see him playing something different than the ravaging mad man he’s repeated in movie after movie for the last twenty-five years.

Boris Karloff was in ill health, and to make him more comfortable, he was often filmed sitting, which gives rise to one of the oddest magic duels you’re likely to see. It is reminiscent of Merlin facing off against Mim in The Sword in the Stone, except no one moves. It is silly, and goes on too long, but is a fitting climax to a fun little film.

Since Corman finished The Raven ahead of schedule, he quickly shot The Terror, with Karloff and Nickolson, in the few remaining days.

Other Foster on Film reviews of Vincent Price films: The Invisible Man Returns (1940), Laura (1944), The Fly (1958), Return of the Fly (1959), House On Haunted Hill (1958), The Terror (1963), Diary of a Madman (1967), The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971).

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Fantasy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

The Terror (1963)

Oct 111963

Napoleonic officer Andre Duvalier (Jack Nicholson), separated from his regiment, finds a beautiful young woman (Sandra Knight) who disappears into the sea. Searching for her, Andre visits the castle of Baron von Leppe (Boris Karloff), who explains that the woman is his wife, dead for twenty years.

Some films are made because there is an important message to impart. Some because a clever story cries out to be seen. And a very few because an actor is still under contract for four days and sets are still standing from a previous movie. Guess which is the case here.

Low budget filmmaker Roger Corman finished The Raven with four days still on Boris Karloff’s contract. So, using the same sets, he shot what he could in those days, enlisting Nicholson to be the young lead. Nicholson had also played a part in The Raven, although not a lead. Then he handed the project off to his underlings to finish over the next few months. Four other directors were involved, including Francis Ford Coppola and Nicholson. Considering how it was shot, The Terror has a remarkably consistent style. The acting is rough, with neither Karloff nor Nickolson looking as professional as they had in The Raven, but they can hardly be faulted for that. Karloff at least has a reasonable part to play. Nicholson is given an unpleasant hero we are somehow supposed to sympathize with, and who changes personality from scene to scene.

Unfortunately, with nothing of interest in the characters, acting, or message (there isn’t one), it is up to the story to carry the film, and it should surprise no one that doesn’t happen. There is hardly a plot for most of the film, and in the end, Corman was forced to shoot an additional scene where the butler could explain what is going on. And what he says is laughable. The twist, which involves people being other than they have appeared to be, could only work in a Monty Python sketch. Let’s just say the ages of the characters don’t match up.

Since the scenes were filmed without a finished script, I can have some sympathy for the opening, where Karloff finds a skeleton in a closet. It is never mentioned again and is irrelevant, not to mention incongruous, to the rest of the story. However, not even the shooting schedule can explain why the girl-ghost pops up twice in attempts to lead a random soldier (Andre) to his death.

Perhaps Corman should have considered another comedy with his unrelated reels of film.Or better yet, remembered that all filmmaking starts with a script.

Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Children of the Damned (1963)

Oct 111963

IQ tests show six fatherless children, all the same age but of different races and countries, have intellects far greater than other humans. The interest of two scientists, a psychologist (Ian Hendry) and a geneticist (Alan Badel), makes the various governments aware of their super-children. Before each country can use its child to gain an advantage in world politics, the children use mind control powers to escape and fortify themselves in a church.

While billed as a sequel to Village of the Damned, Children of the Damned has no connection except that both have children who can control minds and were born without fathers. These new children lack the blonde hair, and bad hair style, famous from the first film. It’s even more questionable if this is an alien film at all (these children might be mutations, though like the first, nothing is explained about their origins). If you view this film as a separate entity, apart from Village, it’s not bad. However, it is very, very depressing.

Far from being damned, these multi-racial children are sympathetic. Yes, they kill, but only when forced to. They might be the saviors of humanity, or just a group that wants to be left alone, though no one will ever give them the chance to do either.

This is a semi-cold war parable. “Semi” because it doesn’t focus on the 1950s-1960s era problems of East vs. West. All countries are presented as fearful of every other country. Trusting no one, and not liking them either, each nation cares only to gain power, or make sure that no one else can. The thing that brings them together is the fear of a new power, the children. With this framework, the politics are as relevant now as they were forty years ago.

The question Children of the Damned asks is, can we rise above our distrust and hatred to make a unified and peaceful world? And it answers: No. We have set up our societies such that conflict is inevitable. Even if we decide we want an equitable peace, it is out of reach. The world is on a razor’s edge, and anything, even an accident, even a falling screwdriver, can destroy us. (That screwdriver line will make more sense once you’ve watched the film.) Well, maybe things have changed a little over the years. With a nuclear holocaust looking unlikely anytime soon, the metaphorical devastation in Children of the Damned would take a few extra mistakes and accidents: two or three falling screwdrivers. (Really, if you see the film, all those screwdriver statements will mean something.)

The film cares more about its metaphors than its characters. Everyone’s actions, child and adult, depend less on their personalities and more on the requirements of the plot. Why are all the super-children brought to London? Why is every country using the same IQ test and then giving the results to the English? Why do the children reveal themselves when taking the tests? Why do they move into an abandoned church and bring along the one cute girl in the film as their unneeded negotiator? Why does a government try a pathetic assassination plan (when it would be simple to come up with ten or twelve that would actually work)? In all cases, the answer is to move along the plot, which in turn makes a political statement.

The two scientists are almost a comedy team for the first half of the film, which brings some needed lightness to the story. After that, watching the film becomes frustrating as poor decisions are made and even the single person who is on the children’s side makes suggestions that could only lead to tragedy. I wanted the kids to kill some people and escape into the night, something they should have done at the halfway mark. But this is a film about man’s foolishness. There’s no escaping.

In the opening minutes, when it looks like this might be a horror film, we meet the mother of one of the boys, who is bitter, tortured, and a bit sleazy. Later we learn another mother has become an unstable streetwalker. A whole film could have been made from just those elements. Even though these children are good, they are still children. What would it be like caring for a massively intelligent toddler who can control your mind? One tantrum and mom is in deep trouble. It’s no wonder their minds are shattered. I’m not sure what the filmmakers were trying to say with regard to the mothers’ sexual appetites but I see a bit of Oedipus at work.

If you don’t mind your political messages poured on thick, Children of the Damned is an interesting experience. I like watching it, but not too often.

Aliens, Reviews

The Day Mars Invaded Earth (1963)

Oct 111963

After a Martian probe stops transmitting, lead scientist David Fielding (Kent Taylor) takes off a few days to try and save his crumbling marriage. Gathered in the small house on the grounds of a huge, abandoned estate, David, his wife Clair (Marie Windsor), and their two kids attempt to enjoy a belated Christmas and New Years, but they begin to see duplicates of themselves on the grounds.

Made when B-movie sci-fi was switching from alien invasions to atomic mutations, The Day Mars Invaded Earth is a low-budget body-replacement film. Following in the shadow of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (deep in its shadow), the characters are confronted with cold, hostile doppelgangers, but as the entire cast could fit in my kitchen, they aren’t confronted by many of them. This isn’t the people of Earth being replaced; it’s a few people in California.

If you are hoping for visible aliens, high tech gadgets, spaceships, or action, you’ll be disappointed. Primarily what you get are the four members of the scientist’s family walking around the estate, hearing noises, looking frightened, and occasionally seeing themselves or one of their loved-ones who shouldn’t be there. It builds a reasonable amount of tension in the middle, particularly when the wife goes alone to check the main house, and then is sure she’s being followed. It also has a far better finish than I had expected, which is the main reason I’m recommending it, at least if it comes on TV.

Even with its brief running time of seventy minutes, there isn’t enough story, and what plot exists isn’t forwarded by any events on the screen. No one works out what is going on, but just “feels” it. There are a lot of new and exciting senses given to David and his wife. She has the ability to sense when she’s being followed, but that’s pretty standard for the movies, particularly if you don’t have the budget to have something doing the following. But she also shares with her husband the ability to know conclusively if their son is lying. Now that’s got to be handy for parents. David can also “feel” that the ghostly duplicates must be connected to his work at NASA. I’m not sure what kind of feeling that might be, but its lucky that he can detect such things or the story would never progress.

The atmosphere relies on people wandering off on their own. It is a poor plot contrivance at the beginning, and ridiculous at the end, when everyone is convinced that they are being stalked and that there are doppelgangers. There’s no way to explain Dave sending a friend of the family, on his own, to break open the gate. Wouldn’t you all want to go together, and then drive through the gate as soon as it’s open? That way you both: 1- escape; 2-know your friend hasn’t been replaced.

With its small cast, few sets, scale-salary acting and workmanship directing, The Day Mars Invaded Earth seems less like a feature than an episode of The Outer Limits. Sure, I liked The Outer Limits, but I wouldn’t want to pay theater prices to see one show.

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

X (1963)

Oct 081963

Working under the watchful eye of Dr. Diane Fairfax (Diana Van der Vlis), Dr. James Xavier (Ray Milland) discovers a drug that allows him to see through objects. His ill-conceived self-experimentation results in a tragedy that causes Xavier to hide in a carnival, where he acts as a mentalist. While the continued use of the drug leaves Xavier unable to see the “normal” world around him, the carny barker (Don Rickles) attempts to make a profit from his talent.

There’s a good movie hiding here, but it’s not easy to find, certainly not by watching it. The low budget is far too visible. The x-ray vision effects are laughable (and headache-inducing), being little more than irritating color separations and blurs. The sets are small and insufficient, making a supposed Las Vegas casino appear to be a slightly dressed garage. But it is in the limited camera movement, simplistic shots, and repeated use of stock footage that the film’s financial woes are most conspicuous. Shot in just three weeks, another six wouldn’t have been enough.

However, a few weeks of rehearsal would have done wonders for the actors’ delivery, perhaps toning down the dialog to near conversational levels. Instead, every word is spoken as if it is the most important ever. If any of these people wanted to order take-out, it would be stated with the same breathy, over-enunciation and intensity as announcing the imminent explosion of a thousand nuclear warheads.

It is this emphasis that sinks the film. With the goofy effects, awkward lines, and such silly scenes as Xavier doing a poor rendition of the twist as he looks through other dancers’ clothing at a party (in an entirely G-rated way), X might have gotten by as cheap fun. But it takes itself so seriously. Even with the semi-clever idea of the protagonist ending up first in a sideshow, and then as a “healer,” this isn’t a deep film. When the ability to see through cards somehow gives Xavier repeated blackjacks, it becomes obvious that thinking during this picture will only cause problems.

Milland plays Xavier as a one-note cliché, making this a sad viewing experience. Here is the man who won the academy award for The Lost Weekend, and shined in Dial M for Murder, the noir classic The Big Clock, and the iconic ghostly masterpiece, The Uninvited, anemically trudging through this schlock. He deserved better.

X is generally sold under the title The Man with the X-Ray Eyes.

Back to Mad Scientists

Mad Scientists, Mad Scientists, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Diary of a Madman (1963)

Oct 051963

Simon Cordier (Vincent Price), a magistrate and amateur sculptor, is possessed by a demonic Horla. Thinking the voices may just be symptoms of mental illness, Simon reduces his workload and returns to sculpting as therapy. He meets the beautiful Odette (Nancy Kovack), who becomes his model. He believes she’s single and romantically interested in him, when actually she’s a gold-digger married to a naive painter. As far as Simon can see, all is going well, until the Horla makes itself known again, and forces him into evil acts.

Based on the Guy de Maupassant story, Le Horla, Diary of a Madman lacks the kick to be interesting and the scares to make it horror. In the 1880s, Le Horla may have been considered pretty frightening stuff, but times have changed. And even if they haven’t, it was a short story. Drug out to feature-length, anything that might have had a touch of tension has been diluted.

The big question the film presents is: does the Horla exist or has Simon gone insane? But the picture tips its hand early with external, and very primitive, special effects (the actors hold perfectly still while green light is shown on their eyes to indicate the presence of the Horla). Sure, it might still all be in his head, but that’s not the position of the filmmakers. Either way you take it, it doesn’t give you anything to think about, and it doesn’t change anything.

What the movie does have is Vincent Price. Price, with his easy, often jovial manner and mellifluous voice, always elevated the material he was given. In this case, he takes nothing and makes it worth sitting through. He is marvelous, dominating every scene he’s in, which is almost all of them. It could be retiled An Evening with Vincent Price—A Nearly One Man Show. The other actors supply reasonable support for their brief appearances onscreen. The best is Nancy Kovack who has an easy, G-rated kind of sex appeal. She has surprising chemistry with Price, and their long conversations are more enjoyable then they have any right to be.

Unfortunately, the Horla occasionally chimes in, sounding like a chatty, over-blown, reject from a dinner theater. He’s not an ominous monster, but an annoying one, and his dialog doesn’t help.

There are plenty of worse ’60s horror films, and many of those aren’t scary either. You’ll have to decide if that excuses those faults in Diary of a Madman. It doesn’t for me. Still, if you happen to stumble upon it, it wouldn’t hurt to check out Price’s craftsmanship.

Other Foster on Film reviews of Vincent Price films: The Invisible Man Returns (1940), Laura (1944), The Fly (1958), Return of the Fly (1959), House On Haunted Hill (1958), The Raven (1963), The Terror (1963), The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971).

Demons, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Wrong Arm of the Law (1963)

Oct 021963

The recently created criminal syndicate run by Pearly Gates (Peter Sellers) and Nervous O’Toole (Bernard Cribbins) is in jeopardy when a new Australian gang, that impersonates policemen, begins stealing the criminals’ hard won booty. As this is upsetting the “delicate balance” between cops and robbers, the syndicate decides to cooperate with Inspector “Nosey” Parker (Lionel Jeffries) and Scotland Yard till the “IPO” mob is caught.

A Sellers vehicle produced when the Post-War British Comedy movement was in its death throws, The Wrong Arm of the Law is funnier in concept than execution. Filled with British stalwarts and with Sellers putting in one of his better performances, it still comes off dry. The jokes are there, if you look closely, but in a relaxed way. This is a languid movie that suggests you get a beer and a magazine and watch between articles. Since my first viewing in the ’60s, I’ve always remembered this film affectionately, and that seems to be the best way to appreciate this work—as a memory.

The gags are ones you’ve seen before, but they are done well. Sellers switches between phony French and Cockney accents while Jeffries plays up the stereotypical English bobby (“‘Ello, ello, ello. What’s all this then?”). There’s plenty of silly crimes and good natured banter between the harmless and pleasant criminals and the broad and ineffective police.

Like 1959’s I’m All Right Jack, where Sellers played a crusty shop steward, there are some jabs at organized labor and unions, but unlike in the earlier film, they are good natured. The criminals spend less time actually stealing anything than in meetings, training sessions, and on their paid vacations, but the suggestion here is that society is running smoothly and everyone is happy (until outsiders rock the boat).

Any fan of Sellers or Post-War British Comedy will be mildly happy with this feature, but it will have little to interest anyone else.

Film legend claims that Michael Caine has a small, non-speaking part, but I’ve never been able to find him, and I’ve only heard others speculating that “I think that’s him, in the back, maybe.”

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

The Girl Hunters (1963)

Sep 291963

Tough guy Mike Hammer (Mickey Spillane) is instantly cured of his alcoholism—because that happens—when he hears information that may lead to the killer of his ex-lover and secretary. Ex-friend, Captain Pat Chambers (Scott Peters) wants the info too, as does FBI agent Arthur Rickerby (Lloyd Nolan), but Hammer goes it alone. He knows the murder tied up with a commie plot, and a dirty red assassin called The Dragon. Yes, I said “commie plot” and “dirty red assassin.” Luckily, there’s only one suspect, the beautiful and always bikini-clad Laura Knapp (Shirley Eaton). Well, I suppose the entire secret commie underground, that’s all around us and ready to pounce, could count as a suspect too. Damn dirty commies!

When I need a plumber, I call an electrician or a baker. Hey, it’s all work, and they should be as familiar with work as a plumber. If I really want a good job, I hire a metallurgist, since he’d know about the material substance of a pipe. What more is needed?

I’m thrilled to see this same philosophy was at work in the casting of The Girl Hunters. Why hire an actor to act when you can hire a writer…to act? And not just any writer, a really bad writer. It gives the film the feel of authenticity; you know, like it isn’t a film at all, or even entertainment.

Yes, after several attempts to bring tough-guy Mike Hammer to the screen, novelist Mickey Spillane takes over the role of his hero, and demonstrates that understanding a character doesn’t help if you lack the skills to portray him. Spillane is a bad writer, but he is a writer. He is no kind of actor at all. Spillane mumbles the wrong words, pauses or rushes randomly, and never shows an emotion that matches what he’s saying. He fails in so many ways, but the funniest is with his sex appeal. Mike Hammer is a real lady’s man. Crude and rough, he has a primitive charisma that the girl’s love. That’s the idea anyway. But Spillane may be the least charismatic man to ever grace the silver screen. He seems to be slightly disfigured and suffering from some mild mental retardation. That Shirley Eaton could recite lines indicating her desire for Hammer without snickering should be enough to earn her an Oscar.

Eaton (best known as the painted girl in Gold Finger) is the only thing right about The Girl Hunters. She’s lovely, and it doesn’t hurt she spends most of the time in a swimsuit. She also turns in a credible performance. Alas, she’s alone in that. Scott Peters overacts, continually gritting his teeth and huffing as he speaks. Lloyd Nolan, the film’s biggest name, phones it in. I would be surprised if he was on set for more than a day and even more so if he read the script. I suspect he was fed his lines right before the camera rolled, and after his scenes he was off to cash his check. And in case it wasn’t clear that ability had nothing to do with casting, columnist and friend of Spillane’s, Hy Gardner, plays himself. I hope he’s a better columnist.

But it wasn’t just the acting that had me mesmerized, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide. No no. There’s more. So much more. There’s the story. Hammer is out to get some commies who have an evil plan to take over the world. You see, the reds are everywhere, and they’re a sneaky bunch. That’s fine, if they happen to belong to Spectre, but it’s a little hard to take seriously. Hammer never does any actual detecting. He just falls into one violent situation after another until his not-so-climactic fist fight with the assassin. (Spillane’s lack of acting ability extends to fights). As for the fate of Hammer’s secretary, we’re never told. Did they run out of film stock? She might be alive. She might be dead. I thought it was important to the story, since everything revolves around her. Guess I was wrong.

The directing is pedestrian and the music rarely fits the moment, but who cares? With its threadbare story, characterizations so false, and acting reaching new lows, The Girl Hunters is one of the worst films ever made. Any additional flaws can’t make it any worse.

Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with: Toxic

Heavens Above! (1963)

Sep 291963

Due to a clerical error, idealistic Reverend John Smallwood (Peter Sellers) is made the vicar of Orbiston Parva instead of the more conventional man that Archdeacon Aspinall (Cecil Parker) had intended. Smallwood immediately upsets the status quo by insulting the wealthy, making a black dustman (Brock Peters) his assistant, and taking in a vagrant family.

By 1960, the Post-War British Comedy movement was fading fast. There was little to connect films to WWII or to the harsh realities of English life in its wake. However, many elements that defined the movement could be found in films for several more years. Heavens Above! still deals with class divisions, offers a mix of eccentric characters, and displays a few of the movements most familiar faces in Cecil Parker, Ian Carmichael, and Miles Malleson, as well as the man who arguably struck the final nail in the coffin, Peter Sellers. But it might better be referred to as a “regional comedy,” a phrase Sellers used with derision.

The writing and directing team of John and Roy Boulting were known for their satires, and Heavens Above! fits right in with Private’s Progress and I’m All Right Jack. Like the later, there is no hopeful message here. People are cruel, blind, traitorous, or greedy, and frequently a mixture of those. Government cares nothing for the people, business is happy to crush anyone to gain wealth, the poor are lazy and manipulative, and the good-natured only make things worse. For a comedy, it’s pretty dark.

But unlike I’m All Right Jack, it’s hard to sympathize with Reverend Smallwood as his single-minded pursuit of goodness destroys the town. He isn’t stupid, but unable to see what is going on around him.

Beautifully filmed and wonderfully acted, with many mildly humorous moments, Heavens Above! is unsatisfying. It isn’t a story, but a setting. Once I am shown the corruption and foolishness, I’d like to see something happen, but Smallwood just exists in it for a while, then goes on. No, that doesn’t mean I want a solution to civilization’s problems, but simply a plot. The Boultings are successful in painting a bleak world, but us cynics are hardly startled by the suggestion that people, and the society we’ve made, are fundamentally flawed. I’m left asking, “Yes, now what?” At just under two hours (it was cut down to 105 minutes for its original U.S. release), it is far too long for its message.

Since all things would point to a rather dreary ending, the Boultings tack on an improbable epilogue. It fails, replacing the dark, realistic satire with farce, but I can’t suggest anything better. With no one to care about and no story to follow, I’m as stuck as they must have been in searching for a comic finish.

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

The Servant (1963)

Sep 291963

Upper-class slacker Tony (James Fox) decides he needs a manservant, so hires the efficient Barret (Dirk Bogarde), who seems almost as anachronistic as Tony, but additionally there is something sinister about him. Tony’s sharp and disdainful fiancée Susan (Wendy Craig) is immediately antagonistic toward Barret, though to little effect. He brings his wanton sister Vera (Sarah Miles) into the household as a maid, who quickly seduces Tony. From there, things get strange.

There’s something wrong with everyone and everything in The Servant. I felt it first as a tic, then a hum, and then it burrowed into my bones. It’s a drama, about an upper-class toff and his valet, but it plays like a dark thriller, as if filled with child murders and the Illuminati. It shouldn’t be this tense, but it is. I can’t think of another film that is this disturbing without an eyeball being sliced open.

The novel, by Robin Maugham, took an old-school elitist view, with the rich being the ones holding society together. Playwright Harold Pinter wrote the screenplay, warping that story to his own designs, adding in the absurdity and guilt which were his trademarks, and tearing at the uselessness of the upper-class. Director Joseph Losey was the right man for Pinter’s sensibilities. An American expat, he’d escaped the communist witch hunts and was ready to do something different. Being an outsider seemed to have given him a better eye for the British class system, or maybe it just meant he lacked the social norms that kept so many Brit directors from calling out their own way of life.

Filled with angst, suppressed sexuality in multiple forms, power and powerlessness, The Servant shows a worthless and crumbling aristocracy and a hungry working class ready to eat them. It’s sometimes called a satire, and I suppose it is, and parts do seem funny, but only in the darkest way.

While Tony is the one having his life torn apart, he is never sympathetic. Nor is Susan, although she is perceptive enough to know something’s wrong. I’m not sure anyone is really sympathetic (which isn’t a shock coming from Pinter), but if anyone, it is Barret. He’s slimy and treacherous, but I was on his side, as much as I can side with anyone in this cold, emotionally distancing movie. I wanted him to win, though for most of the film I wasn’t sure what the goal was. The characters act as much for the metaphor as they do for their own motivations, which isn’t a criticism here. It’s a surreal, sideways kind of film.

Film historians claim it had a major role in changing British cinema, making it darker and more modern, and freeing up some of the sexuality that had been held at bay. I don’t know what it changed. I do know that The Servant was uncomfortable and captivating in 1963, and it is now.

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