GulyJimson Reviews

Robin and Marian (1976)

Love's lost time

[10/10 · 30 December 2005]

It brought Audrey Hepburn back to the screen after an absence of eight years. It brought Sean Connery and Richard Harris back together again after their teaming in "The Molly Maguires" and it even brought back Connery and Robert Shaw fourteen years after they fought to the death in "From Russia With Love". Unfortunately at the time of its release it did not bring back audiences to the theaters. For a movie going public acclimatized to the likes of "Jaws" and "Rocky", a film concerned with aging and loss, corruption and mortality was not likely to find very wide acceptance. Today it is generally regarded as a classic and one of the best adult love stories ever filmed. What do heroes do when it's time to call it a day? This is the problem confronting Robin Hood, a legend in his own time, on his return to Sherwood Forest after twenty-five years of fighting in the Holy Land. Should he, as old soldiers are said to do, quietly fade away, or go out in a blaze of glory? Unfortunately Robin is, as his great adversary, The Sheriff of Nottingham wisely observes, "A little in love with death." So it is unlikely he will slowly fade away. And Death hangs over the film like an unseen presence. This central theme is given visual emphasis in one of the opening shots. We see three apples set in an open window. Perfect at first, then suddenly an abrupt jump cut showing them rot. This motif of aging and corruption is repeated for the closing of the film as well. We hear Will Scarlett sing about, "Following Jolly Robin to the grave." The mortally wounded Richard Lionheart confides to one of his lieutenants his dislike of the cold and dark; when Little John expresses his desire to go see his father again, he is ruefully informed by Friar Tuck that, "He died years ago, John..." The wistful reaction on Little John's face eloquently expresses regret too profound for words. Visually and verbally death is a constant presence. Indeed, the original script was titled, "The Death of Robin Hood." With a title like that it was not going to be a rehash of Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. And perhaps that also added to the films lackluster performance at the box-office. Audiences brought up on "The Adventures of Robin Hood" simply could not accept seeing these two beautiful star-crossed lovers ravaged by time, even if they were portrayed by the likes of Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn.

However like the Flynn film, "Robin and Marian" boasts a superb cast. Sean Connery gives one of his great performances. His Robin refuses to acknowledge the approaching infirmities of old age, and like a great ex-athlete attempts to make a comeback in a world that has long since left him behind. Nicol Williamson, woefully under-used in most films has one of his best roles as Little John, the terrible gentle giant who follows Robin with the unquestioning simplicity of a child. He and Connery have the essential chemistry necessary and make an incredibly good team. Robert Shaw brings intelligence, sensitivity and danger to the Sheriff of Nottingham, a man who will ultimately be undone because of those very virtues. Richard Harris does a magnificent turn as King Richard the Lion-hearted. Even though burnt out by years of chasing after glory, he still retains the after-glow of greatness. Ian Holm as his brother Prince John is a wonderful contrast, anxious and insecure, scheming and pleasure loving. His scene with the ambitious, equally scheming Sir Ranulf, the marvelously supercilious Kenneth Haigh, highlights another of the film's themes; the passing of the chivalric age. This is signaled by the death of King Richard, continues with the death of The Sheriff, and is completed by the deaths of Robin and Marian. Prince John and Sir Ranulf symbolize the ascendancy of the modern, hollow man, ambition without vision, loyal only to power and expediency. Prince John, is King as CEO interested only in profit, Sir Ranulf, like the armor he sports, a soulless, mechanical bird of prey. Denholm Elliot as Will Scarlett and Ronnie Barker as Friar Tuck complete Robin's band. Elliott was an actor who could express more with a simple look than most actors can with pages of dialog, and Barker has some nice ironic moments as the Friar. Finally "Robin and Marian" brought Audrey Hepburn back to the screen, as radiant and lovely as ever. Seeing her first in her nun's garb recalls her appearance in, "The Nun's Story" sixteen years earlier. Some people have an ageless beauty and Audrey Hepburn had that quality. She and Connery may be the best tragic lovers since Humphrey Bogart told Ingrid Bergman to get on that plane in "Casablanca". Their scenes together are magic. When Marian asks Robin why he followed Richard during all the years of terrible carnage, Connery sums up his life with a simplicity that is breathtaking; "He was my King..."

The film is wonderfully elegiac and the melancholic sense of time irretrievably lost is heartrending. James Goldman's screenplay is quite simply his best, surpassing his own adaptation of his play, "The Lion in Winter". Unlike that film Goldman refuses to indulge in pithy witticisms at the expense of period flavor. John Barry's bittersweet score and Richard Lester's austere direction never descend into sentimentality and underscore the tragedy of the two lovers reunited after spending half a lifetime apart. David Watkins's gritty cinematography beautifully captures the squalor of life in the medieval age. "Robin and Marian" is a bittersweet adult love story for discriminating viewers of all ages.

Black Friday (1940)

Starring that Master of Horror, Stanley Ridges! Oh, and Karloff and Lugosi are in it too.

[17 September 2005]

This is not a bad film; it's a serviceable "B" thriller. In fact it is very reminiscent of the fine Columbia Studios Boris Karloff mad doctor/gangster/horror films of the late Thirties and early Forties. Curt Siodmak collaborated with Eric Taylor on a script variation of his "Donavan's Brain" theme. It has the polished look of some of Universal Studio's best "B" movies. Arthur Lubin's direction is competent-he keeps it moving along-but lacks the zest he would bring to the 1943 remake of "The Phantom of The Opera" starring Claude Rains. It has a good supporting cast that includes the lovely Anne Nagel, Paul Fix, Stanley Ridges, and in a brief role as the reporter who is the recipient of Dr. Sovac's notes, James Craig. Most important of all, and this cannot be overstated, it stars Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, the greatest horror team the cinema has produced. At least that is what the credits would have us believe. And this is where the film unfortunately goes all wrong. Karloff and Lugosi were a team with a fine pedigree; "The Black Cat" (1934) "The Raven" (1935) "The Invisable Ray" (1936) and their greatest collaboration, "Son of Frankenstein" (1939). They even did bits together in two slight films, "The Gift of Gab" (1935) and "You'll Find Out" (1940) with Peter Lorre. The chemistry the two generated in their scenes together in their horror films was terrific. Lugosi with his daemonic will to power and Karloff with his unique ability to combine the sinister with the sympathetic have delighted audiences for over seventy years. So it is not unnatural that devotees of their films would approach "Black Friday" with extremely high expectations. And for those expecting another Karloff-Lugosi teaming the disappointment, the sense of being cheated, is enormous. "Black Friday" is not a Karloff-Lugosi film despite what the opening credits suggest. Not only do they not share any scenes together, but Bela is relegated to the perfunctory, unimportant role of Marnay with very little to do except to try to look and act like an American gangster, who coincidently just happens to sound like Count Dracula. So what happened?

It has long been rumored that Karloff was originally going to play the duel role of Prof. Kingsley/Red Cannon-the best part in the film-and Lugosi was to play Dr. Ernest Sovac-the part Karloff eventually took. This would make sense. Sovac has a Hungarian name, so Lugosi's accent would not have seemed out of place and also his daughter makes reference to his being in the process of gaining American citizenship while the Kingsley/Cannon part would have provided Karloff with a nice variation of the type of roles he had been playing at Columbia. Instead for reasons that remain a mystery, Karloff got bumped to the Sovac role-Hungarian name still intact, Lugosi got the thankless part of Marnay while Stanley Ridges, an actor no one wanted to see got the plum role of Kingsley/Cannon! Who was responsible for this ineptitude? Ridges was a good actor with a fine speaking voice, and he had a career in supporting roles, usually playing minor officials or bureaucrats but no one in their right mind would ever think about building a film around him, certainly not a horror film. Not from a box-office point of view. Not when you have the talents of BOTH Karloff and Lugosi on the payroll. Then to add insult to injury when the film didn't perform to expectations instead of blaming it's failure on the moronic casting-imagine MGM casting Marie Dressler to play Juliet and then wondering what went wrong-the studio heads chose instead to believe the Karloff-Lugosi team was no longer box-office. It was a sad end to a great horror collaboration, and the disappointment of Karloff and Lugosi fans is thoroughly understandable.

Unfortunately while the miscasting is the most grievous flaw, it is not the only one. There are other problems at work undermining the film. The most serious being it completely lacks any atmosphere of horror. Like many of Universal's Forties fare the film is slick and professional but utterly lacking in any style. This can be deadly in a horror film. As mentioned before the direction is serviceable while the score-always one of the strong points of the Universal horror films-is simply stock music and forgettable, except when it recycles some of Hans J. Salter's themes from earlier horror films. The same might be said of Elwood Bredell's cinematography-its serviceable but nothing more. And that pretty much sums up this last teaming of Karloff and Lugosi in a Universal horror film. Its serviceable and nothing more and thats sad because with a little more thought and care-and more intelligent casting-it could have been quite good. It is somewhat ironic that RKO Pictures, Universals great horror competitor of the Forties actually provided a more fitting coda for the Karloff-Lugosi team in the beautifully atmospheric 1945 Val Lewton production of "The Body Snatcher". They have only one real scene together but it showcases both stars. And it gives Lugosi, in ill health and drug-ridden as he was, one last chance to show the world he was a fine actor and not just a flamboyant personality.

The Shooting Party (1984)

"God save the British Empire!"

[10/10 · 30 July 2005]

"The Shooting Party" (1985) opens and closes with procession carrying a litter across an open field and receding into the distance. It is late afternoon. The wistful score underlines the autumnal sense of melancholic desolation.. It is a marvelous establishing shot setting the tone of the film while serving as a metaphor for the passing of the British Empire. "The Shooting Party" beautiful re-creates the elegiac autumn of 1913; the last Britain enjoyed before the Great War wiped out a generation of English youth, and shattered forever the confident complacency of the Edwardian world. The fabric of this society is examined through the inter-related actions of a group of aristocrats invited to spend the weekend at the estate of Sir Randolph and Lady Nettleby, along with the various servants who attend them, as well as many of the locals who live on the estate. The weekend activities include riding, discussions on art and politics, masquerades, cards, walks and picnics as well as the sport of shooting game. Also to be enjoyed will be illicit trysts, acceptable only because they remain unspoken and discreet. Lady Aline Hartlip, (Cheryl Campbell) addicted to speculation/gambling has just such a dalliance with Sir Ruben Hergersheimer, (Aharon Ipale) "the Israelite" as he is called. He pays for her gambling debts in exchange for sexual favors. It is an arrangement she is only too happy to oblige, given her loveless marriage to Lord Gilbert. It is this obsession with maintaining appearances at all costs that is one of the main preoccupations of the privileged class.

While on the surface all seems well, there are tensions and stresses at work both at home and abroad threatening the stability of the established order. And they affect each of the classes. The aristocrats are determined to maintain the appearance of stability despite the looming threat of war and the fading of the old social order, while the serving class ape their masters with the hope of acquiring gentility. Lionel Stephens's manservant actually takes one of his master's discarded love letters from the waste basket in an attempt to use it's refined language to woo the maid he is in love with, while the locals hired to act as beaters for the shoot, grumble-quietly-about unfair conditions. All sense that change is coming, but still cling to the illusion that the Empire will endure, because however staid, restrictive and even provincial, it provides a sense of security and permanence. Because the aristocracy no longer fulfills its intended function as rulers, what else can it do except indulge its pleasures too seriously. This observes Sir Randolph, played by James Mason in a final film performance of immense wisdom and dignity, is a sure sign of a civilization in decline. This "playing the game" too seriously generates the unspoken rivalry between Lord Gilbert Hartlip, ( a wonderfully haughty Edward Fox) who feels his preeminence as the best shot in England being threatened by Lionel Stephens, a rising young barrister, sensitively played by Rupert Frazer. Stephens only takes up the challenge to impress his lady fair, Lady Olivia Lilburn, (Judi Bowker) with whom he is in love but who is married to his friend Lord Lilburn. Lilburn, (Robert Hardy) concerned with maintaining standards, deeply loves Olivia, but has no illusions about life being able to imitate art as his wife does. This contest of "knights" will ultimately have tragic consequences. And this is one of the points of the film; even the noblest ideals when divorced from reality must end in failure or worse, catastrophe. As the Great War proved with terrible finality the concept of "Nobless Oblige" in the modern age can be seen as not only foolish, but fatal. And yet paradoxically it is this very striving for the unattainable, the very real desire to make those ideals real, that ennobles the lives of both of the young would be lovers.

In war the innocent suffer the most. In a desperate attempt to add another shot to his belt, because it is clear he is losing the contest-his wife even suggests he should cheat-Lord Gilbert accidentally wounds one of the beaters, Tom Harker, played by the wonderful Gordon Jackson in one of his best film roles. Harker is an individualist. He is also a poacher, and a supporter of Lloyd George, and much liked by the Nettlebys-especially Sir Randolph, who sees in him the embodiment of the simple life-something for which he yearns. His loss is felt personally but it is also metaphorical because it is symbolic of the terrible losses Britain will sustain in the coming war. In fact, Harker's final words are, "God save the British Empire!" and the field they carry his body across recalls those fields in Flanders and Passchendaele in which many Englishmen will cross and never return, while the large scale slaughter of the fowl at the hands of the party armed with shotguns brings to mind the horrors of the Western Front in which tens of thousands of youths will be paraded in front of machine guns and artillery only to be mowed down like so much wheat. Outrage at the blood sport is expressed by animal rights activist and pamphleteer Cornelius Cardew played with delightful eccentricity by John Gielgud. His scene with Mason, whom he is brought before for his attempt to place himself between the hunters and the hunted, is the best scene in the film and certainly the most memorable. There is a genuine warmth between these two acting greats, performing together again for the first time since their collaboration in "Julius Ceasar" thirty-one years earlier. Actually, the entire cast should take a bow for it is an impressive ensemble work. "The Shooting Party" gives us a glimpse into the mindset of an era that has long since vanished and exists now only in the mind's eye.

Hitler: The Last Ten Days (1973)

Hitler: The greatest performing artist of the twentieth-century?

[10/10 · 7 January 2005]

How does one approach the towering figure of Adolf Hitler, a figure so out-sized in his cruelty, so colossal in his infamy, that it staggers the imagination to conceive that he actually lived and breathed? Yet he was as human as you and I and gifted with some of the virtues and most of the flaws that flesh is heir to. One could examine him from a historical, psychological, or sociological perspective. Taking a position on Hitler's moral character is not difficult; he was the embodiment of evil. But did he have greatness, as well? His nemesis, Winston Churchill offered this assessment, "If evil can be great, we cannot deny him greatness." He certainly had genius. Not as a painter as he probably wished. His genius lay elsewhere. He was probably the greatest actor of the twentieth-century who used first Germany and then the World as his stage, mesmerizing it with performances of such messianic passion that he transported his audiences away with him to some unattainable inner Valhalla of their own making. Watching one of his performances-I call his speeches performances-because it was not what he said, but how he said it that was extraordinary, one is immediately struck by how well thought out and structured they were, with every gesture and movement of the body orchestrated to give meaning to the the torrent of words pouring forth.

Hitler has been well served in cinema. As an enthusiastic cineaste and certifiable egomaniac, he probably would not have been pleased by the portrayals. He likely would have viewed himself as a tragic hero, or worse a misunderstood martyr. He would never have understood that his crimes were too heinous and numerous for cinema to depict him in that light. Some notable interpretations of Der Fuhrer have been, Charles Chaplin, "The Great Dictator" (1940) Ludwig Donath, "The Strange Death of Adolf Hitler" (1943) Luther Adler, "The Desert Fox" (1951) Albin Skoda, "The Last Ten Days" (1955) Richard Basehart, "Hitler" (1962) Billy Frick, "Is Paris Burning?" (1966) Frank Finlay, "The Death of Adolf Hitler" (1973) Alec Guinness, "Hitler: The Last Ten Days" (1973) Ian Bannen, "The Gathering Storm" (1974) Anthony Hopkins, "The Bunker" (1981) Derek Jacobi, "Inside The Third Reich" (1982) Norman Rodway, "The Empty Mirror" (1996) Noah Taylor as a young Hitler in "Max" (2002) Robert Carlyle, "Hitler: The Rise of Evil" (2003) Bruno Ganz, "Der Untergang" (2004). All of these actor have illuminated aspects of the man's complex personality, so in many ways the performer we "like best" as Hitler is the one who best captures those qualities we associate with the man. Alec Guinness best captured my view of Hitler as performing artist. The bunker was his stage and his entourage, his last captive audience for his final, most terrible performance, the initiator of Gotterdammerung. It is an impressive acting turn by Guinness because the script does not allow him to indulge in any great histrionic oration. Instead, he brings all the vanity and egocentricity of a frustrated actor desperately needing the approbation of his audience-however small. Whether launching into a monologue about the great old days of his rise to power, or haranguing his generals to "will" their way to victory, that need for approval, to be the center of attention is like a spoiled child who is never satisfied with the love and attention he receives, can never fill the gaping void that is the core of his existence.

Guinness, who made a career both on stage and film portraying "little men" illuminates beautifully the inner life of the man, capturing Hitler's pettiness of spirit, and essential provincialism. A wonderful example of this is the scene where Hitler having decided to kill himself and have his body burned, smugly tells Goebbels who has decided to do the same, that there may not be enough petrol because he is hoarding all of it for himself, all the while spreading gobs of cream on his chocolate cake like a little boy satisfying his sweet tooth. This is for the most part a quieter Hitler than previous shown, and with one notable exception, mercifully free from the usual hysterics and ravings that have long since become cliché. At the same time Guinness manages to capture the drug-ridden, bleary-eyed, broken, ex-dictator shuffling his way to the grave. One could almost feel pity for this creature, if only he himself were not so pitiless. Even at the end he is the eternal actor, never comfortable with being himself, always assuming a new role in order to define not only himself but his relationship to others. Whether playing the charismatic father figure to a still believing Captain Hoffman, (Simon Ward) the sly old matchmaker between General Von Greim, (Eric Porter) and Hanna Reitsch, (Diane Cilento) the betrayed friend and mentor when he hears of Himmler's attempts to negotiated a truce with the allies, or justifying his barbarity ("Nature is cruel, so I too must be cruel!") to his final, penultimate audience, Eva Baum just before they commit suicide, Guinness keeps this Hitler even with his monstrous ego, intensely and uncomfortably human. And with his uncanny chameleon like ability he easily incorporates the man's gestures and mannerisms without ever slipping into caricature. Guinnes always considered his portrayal of Hitler to be among his five greatest film performances and it wouldn't be until he played William Dorrit in "Little Dorrit" (1988) would he have another film role that would challenge his abilities as an actor.

Khartoum (1966)

Confrontation between Western Imperialism and Islamic fundamentalism more topical than ever.

[10/10 · 30 December 2004]

It has been argued that films dealing with historical subject matter always make for bad history. The pedants complain that the historical element has been simplified, or worse changed and therefore because it is bad history it is a bad film. But is it? By that standard Shakespeare's historical plays are bad plays. No one has ever argued that these kind of films can ever take the place of a well-researched book. That is not the point. Both mediums are subject to their form. Books can provide a wealth of information and detail that can and should demonstrate the complexity of history. Film on the other hand is essentially a visual medium, and subject to the demands of dramatic form and structure. The question should rather be, is it a good film even with the simplification of history? The Chorus from Shakespeare's "Henry V" actually provided the best justification for these historical epics; "Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France? Or may we cram into this wooden O the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt? O, pardon! Since a crooked figure may attest in little place a million; and let us ciphers to this great accompt, on your imaginary forces work, turning the accomplishment of many years into an hour glass..." The best historical films, of which "Khartoum" is one, do just that, they fire the imagination, however condensed and simplified the history, and hopefully inspire the viewer to delve deeper into the subject by purchasing a good book on the matter.

Robert Ardrey's screenplay is wonderfully literate and "Khartoum" is a pleasure to listen to as well as watch. The disaster that befell Col. William Hicks in 1884 and would set in motion the chain of events that would culminate in the confrontation between Mohammad Ahmed, called The Mahdi, (Laurence Olivier) and British General Charles George Gordon, called "Chinese Gordon", (Charlton Heston) are quickly detailed in a brief prologue featuring an uncredited voice-over by Leo Genn, and the first of several stunning battles staged by the great Yakima Canutt. Ardrey maintains the essential aura of mystery that surrounded these two fascinating enigmatic individuals. Gordon was nothing if not a very complex man. A solitary non-conformist who craved and despised public adulation, a devout Christian that never allied himself to any church, a reluctant empire builder more often sympathetic to those he had to oppose. Suggesting complexity of character, however was not one of Charlton Heston's strong points and he cannot begin to suggest Gordon's contradictory traits. He is too solid, too commanding, too physically heroic. But he does bring those qualities to the character, and he is an impressive physical presence, unlikely to get lost in the epic production of the film. One only needs to see Colin Ferrell flounder as Alexander the Great in Oliver Stone's "Alexander" to appreciate how important a charismatic presence in an epic film can be.

On the other hand, Laurence Olivier as The Mahdi is marvelously equipped as an actor to suggest the subtleties and nuance of his character. With far less screen time he makes every gesture, every vocal intonation, every flicker of the eye suggest layers of depth. He is holy man and realist, opportunist and idealist. His scenes with Heston are among the best in the film. Heston, a more natural film actor, wisely leaves the pyrotechnics to Olivier, and skillfully underplays, so when his big emotional moment finally arrives, it is all the more effective. The pedants will argue The Mahdi and Gordon never met face to face. That is true, but as one of Mohammad Ahmed's relatives told Producer Julian Baustein, "Ah, but they should have!" The two however did correspond at length. The same can be said of Heston's big scene with Ralph Richardson as Prime Minister William Gladstone, they never met face to face either. Both are examples of history being altered to suit the needs of drama and rightfully so for both provide for some high powered acting and make for a better film. Richardson brings to his part all the shrewd, ruthless, deviousness of a savvy political animal determined to survive. Richard Johnson as Col. J.D.H. Stewart, Gordon's reluctant adjutant and later admirer gives a stiff upper lip performance in the best tradition of John Mills, while Michael Hordern as Lord Granville, Nigel Green as General Wolseley and Alexander Knox as Sir Evelyn Baring all give very effective supporting performances.

Too often compared to its detriment with David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia" of a few years earlier, in much the same way "Barry Lyndon" was compared unfavorably with "Tom Jones", Director Basil Dearden, (The League of Gentlemen) wisely resists following Lean's lush romantic style and instead opts for a more subdued realistic approach, clean, simple and direct. This approach is reinforced by Frank Cordell's score which is very reminiscent of the music of Edward Elgar and appropriately so. In fact Elgar himself at one point planned to write a symphony on Gordon. In the light of recent world events, this classic confrontation between Western Imperialism and Eastern Islamic fundamentalism makes "Khartoum" more topical than ever.

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)

When viewing it we look at it as looking in a mirror.

[10/10 · 27 December 2004]

What can one say about this work of art that has not been said many times before by those far better qualified to explain both it's importance and place as cinema and art? I shall not comment on the greatness of the film's technical achievements; the stunning cinematography, the production design, the brilliance of the screenplay based on actual transcripts from the trial, or the perfection of Mr. Dreyer's direction. The performance of Falconetti as Jeanne d' Arc has a profundity and depth far beyond my ability to illuminate. I suppose the best I can hope to do is to share my feelings, however inadequately expressed, of the effect it had on me. To say that it may be the greatest film ever made is to sound both obvious and trite. That a work of such beauty and simplicity, made seventy-six years ago can still have the power to move audiences in an era of multi-million dollar, hi-tech, bombastic over-wrought cinematic drivel is in itself a testament to the vision and genius of Carl Theodor Dreyer, Maria Falconetti and their collaborators. It is nourishment for those that hunger for something more in cinema, a feast for the soul. It is a reminder that film can indeed be art, and this film like all great works of art, lifts and transports us from the routine of our work-a-day lives to enable us, if only for a moment to experience the sublime. When viewing it we look at it as looking in a mirror. That is to say we look into ourselves. We question ourselves as to our own beliefs, or the lack thereof and the strength of spirit that enables an individual to endure the unendurable. Viewing it is a profound experience the nature of which for myself is transcendent rather than religious, because I am not in the least a religious person. Transcendent because it evokes emotions and thoughts that I cannot wholly account for, or adequately explain.

"La Passion of Jeanne d'Arc" is stark, radiant, exalted, simple, (but never simplistic), and ultimately sublime. The rest is silence.

Zulu Dawn (1979)

More relevant now than ever.

[10/10 · 21 December 2004]

Released in a badly cut version in 1979 just before the resurgent interest in Burt Lancaster for his performance in "Atlantic City and Peter O'Toole for "Stunt Man", this fine historical epic died an ignominious death at the box office, on the second half of a double bill with the horror film "Silent Scream". It was originally planned by Cy Endfield as a companion film to his 1964 classic, "Zulu". That film opened with a voice over of Richard Burton speaking Lord Chelmsford's communication to Prime Minister Disraeli detailing the massacre that befell a British column of about 1,800 British Infantrymen and native contingents at the hands of Zulu warriors at Isandlwana on January 22, 1879. This disaster left the 155 men at the mission post at Rorke's Drift to fend for themselves against several thousand Zulu warriors headed their way. "Zulu Dawn" chronicles the chain of events that led up to the British debacle at Isandlwana, the worst defeat ever suffered by a professional army at the hands of native forces in history.

Director Douglas Hickox keeps the film moving along and the film is an excellent example of adapting historical events to the needs of cinematic form and drama. In a little less than two hours the causes for the war as well as the roots of the disaster are laid out in clear, if simplified terms. The arrogance of the British Empire as personified by Sir Henry Bartle Frere, (John Mills in another stiff upper lip performance) and his chief lieutenant, Frederick Theisger, Lord Chelmsford, (Peter O'Toole, nicely understated and subdued) are in the filmmaker's view clearly responsible for a war that need never have been fought at all. The film also makes clear that Sir Henry initiated the conflict without the knowledge let alone consent of the British Government. But the arrogance and sense of entitlement that blinds Sir Henry to dealing with the Zulu in a just and legal manner affects all the participants involved, from the highest government official to the lowest private. It is the mistaken belief that technology, (exemplified here by rockets, cannons and rifles) somehow gives nations the right to take by force whatever they want. Handing Chelmsford his orders, Sir Henry asks, "Does this cover, Frederick what we both know to be right?" "Most excellently, Sir Henry." He replies. It is as if they both need spoken confirmation that the crime they are about to commit is in fact justified.

This English disdain is not just reserved for the Zulu, but for fellow countrymen as well. After Col. Hamilton-Brown, robustly played by Nigel Davenport refuses his table in order to be with his men still on the march, Chelmsford contemptuously warns his aide-de-camp, Lt. Hartford, sensitively played by Ronald Pickup to, "Learn nothing from that Irishman, except how not to behave." But his real distaste is reserved for Col. Anthony Durnford, a rough-hewn Irishman who has a way with the native troops. With his understanding of the Zulu warrior and his knowledge of the topography, Durnford would obviously be of great use in the coming campaign, but almost immediately there is tension between the two men. And with Burt Lancaster as Durnford it is easy to see why Chelmsford might feel threatened. Even with the use of only one arm, he is a natural leader of men, intelligent and charismatic and unlike Chelmsford he respects the Zulu. It is one of Lancaster's sage portrayals and this time he sports an Irish accent. Dialects were never one of his strong points and this one doesn't completely convince, but it is consistent and it underscores Durnford's isolation among the English who make up most of Chelmsford's staff. More importantly, even at 65, Lancaster has a bravado and dash which makes it understandable how he might warm the heart of beautiful young woman. Fanny Colenso so loved the older Durnford that she went on a one woman crusade to clear his name when the official inquiry into the disaster attempted to shift the blame for it onto him.

A great cast is well used in many telling vignettes. Denholm Elliot as the gentle Col. Pulliene has a moving death scene. Simon Ward as William Vereker represents what is best of the British aristocracy abroad and he quickly becomes disenchanted with the war, ("A very dirty business, indeed.") Michael Jayston as Col. Crealock, Chelmsford's secretary catches all the charm and tact needed for that difficult position. Freddie Jones and Anna Calder-Marshall as Bishop Colenso and his daughter Fanny, having lived among the Zulu are righteously indignant at the prospect of war. Ronald Lacey as Correspondent Norris Newman delights in skewering the official lies about the war. Peter Vaughn as Quartermaster Bloomfield, whose obsession in accounting for every cartridge and shell would have such horrific consequences is marvelous. Simon Sabela makes a very impressive King Cetshwayo in one of the opening sequences to the film and Bob Hoskins as tough Sergeant Major Williams is a lot of fun. With great battle scenes and a rousing score by Elmer Bernstein, "Zulu Dawn" is a worthy companion to "Zulu".

Young Winston (1972)

Rule Britannia!

[10/10 · 16 August 2004]

"Young Winston" released in 1972 was a no expense spared, beautifully mounted, all star, "thinking man's epic" recounting the childhood and early manhood of one of history's great statesmen, Winston Churchill. It was among the last in a long honorable line of historical epics whose golden era began with Robert Rossen's "Alexander the Great" (1956) followed by "A Night to Remember" (1958) and "Spartacus" (1960) and for many reached a zenith with David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia" (1962). The era continued with "The Longest Day" (1962) "Cleopatra" (1963) "Zulu" (1965) "Khartoum" (1966) "Is Paris Burning?" (1966) "Charge of the Light Brigade" (1968) "The Battle of Britain" (1969) "Cromwell" (1970) "Tora, Tora, Tora" (1970) "Patton" (1970) "Waterloo" (1970) "The Red Tent" (1971) and "Nicholas and Alexandra" (1971). It was Richard Attenborough's follow up to his spectacular film version of the stage hit, "Oh! What a Lovely War". He would follow up "Young Winston" with the equally spectacular "A Bridge Too Far" (1977). Attenborough was at home mixing the grand with the biographical, and in addition to "Young Winston" he made an epic film on "Gandhi", (1982) for which he won the Academy Award for Best Director, with the film winning for Best Picture and Ben Kingsley for Best Actor. This he followed with a somewhat less successful film, "Cry Freedom" (1987) notable mostly for Denzel Washington's charismatic portrayal of Steve Biko, and an even less successful film followed this on the life of "Chaplin" (1992) again, notable for the remarkable performance by Robert Downey Jr. in the lead. The following year Attenborough returned to form-sans epic aspirations-with another adaptation of a stage hit, "Shadowlands" with Anthony Hopkins wonderful as C.S. Lewis.

Among Attenborough's chief attributes is being especially good at getting great performances. This is not unusual since he is himself a marvelous actor and coming from a theatrical background he knows dramatic material when he sees it. He also has a fine eye for period detail. "Young Winston" excels in all these departments. Carl Forman's screenplay, adapted from Churchill's memoirs is a veritable Boy's Own Adventure yarn. Charmingly narrated by an unseen older Churchill, (an uncanny vocal performance by Simon Ward) recounting his early life, it moves sprightly along following the young Churchill from childhood to boarding school, his travails with his parents, to his escapades in the Sudan as soldier and the Boer War as war correspondent and climaxing with his winning his father's seat in Parliament. And it is Churchill's need to win his father's love and approval that thematically dominates the film. Lord Randolph Churchill was by all accounts an imposing figure and the part is well served by Robert Shaw in what is certainly one of his finest performances. The scene where Shaw, coping with the ravaging onset of syphilis, attempts to express his love for his son, is in the opinion of this commentator, the finest piece of acting he ever did. Shaw was never a vulnerable actor, and this is one of the very few times we glimpse a tender side to his personality. It is an extremely moving scene, beautifully played. Anne Bancroft as Jenny Churchill captures all the vivacious charm and steely fortitude as his mother, the other dominating influence in his early life.

Attenborough wisely choose to go with an unknown for the pivotal role of Churchill. It was a fortuitous decision that brought spectacular results. Simply said, Simon Ward is Churchill. Not only does he look like young Winston, he is by turns sensitive, haughty, dashing, and always winsome. His embodiment of Churchill's physical gestures and vocal intonation are truly amazing. In what seems to be traditional for the historical epic, the supporting cast is first rate. Along with Shaw and Bancroft, Jack Hawkins, John Mills, Pat Heywood, Ian Holm, Patrick Magee, Anthony Hopkins, Edward Woodward, Laurence Naismith, Robert Hardy, and Colin Blakely all have effective cameos. Hawkins is especially good as Mr. Welldon, Headmaster at Harrow. in a subtle comic turn and without saying a word Hawkins uses his very expressive face to register his total perplexity as to how to grade a blank piece of paper young Churchill has turned in. Equally good is John Mills. Mills made a cottage industry at playing stiff upper lip types, such as Scott of the Antarctic. As Lord Kitchener he is at his most stiff upper lipped. He is perfect as the Great Man with the steely blue eyes, (Kitchener's face was used for the British equivalent of the Uncle Sam, "I Want You!" recruiting poster in WWI) who personified the Victorian soldier hero. "Young Winston" is a grand, rousing historical epic beautifully capturing the pageantry of Britannia at the height of Empire while never losing sight of the young man who one day would become one of her greatest sons. Rule Britannia!

True Confessions (1981)

"For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his soul?"

[10/10 · 9 August 2004]

Ulu Grosbard's "True Confessions" scripted by John Gregory Dunne and Joan Dideon from his novel of the same name is a masterful film, one of the most under-rated movies of the nineteen-eighties. It's an exquisite character study, whose themes deal with corruption, the seduction of power, Catholic guilt, remorse and finally the need for absolution. Robert De Niro is Desmond Spellacy, an ambitious Monsignor of an Catholic Archdiocese in Los Angeles, and Robert Duvall is his brother Tom, a middle-aged hardboiled LAPD detective, investigating the brutal murder of a young would be actress. Both have a strongly developed sense of Catholic sin that binds them even when their contrasting personalities conflict. It is their scenes together, with all that desperately needs to be said and yet is not, despite the love they have for each other, that makes this one of the most brilliantly acted films of its time. While Los Angeles of 1947 is beautifully recreated, many critics misconstrued the film at the time of its release as being a latter day film noir murder mystery. It is not. The solving of the "Black Dahlia" style murder is only incidental to the plot. Central are the relationships between many of the characters and the victim, and how those relationships led to her death.

The film opens sixteen years after the murder in 1963. Duvall, retired from the force, visits his brother who was transfered to a threadbare parish in the desert years earlier because of the scandal. "I'm going to die, Tommy." Des tells him. "The arteries to the heart are shot." The scene then dissolves to 1947 to a magnificent cathedral with Des presiding over the wedding of Jack Amsterdam's daughter. Jack is a powerful construction contractor with a lifetime of misdeeds, now a pillar of the Catholic community and trying to buy his way into heaven by building Catholic schools. The dying Amsterdam (Charles Durning) taints all he comes in contact with, and personifies corruption, literally bringing it into the church, disrupting the ceremony with his incessant coughing while his daughter is already several months pregnant out of wedlock. The relationship between Amsterdam and Desmond will be a contentious point with the brothers. Unknown to Jack, years earlier Tom had acted as bag man for his payoffs to Vice and though busted for it was not indicted. His attempts to put Des straight about Jack are met with irritation and an unwillingness to hear the truth, because of his ambition to succeed the aging Cardinal, (Cyril Cusack) an appointment of which Jack has some say.

Jack's influence is felt even at LAPD. "Does he make you nervous, Frank?" Tom asks Frank Crotty (Kenneth Macmillan) after his slightly corrupt partner (he cheerfully accepts payoffs from local Chinese businessmen) insists that Amsterdam, despite, "Banging her", had nothing to do with the murder. Jack's hypocrisy, (he is made Catholic Layman of the year) and his disregard for the lives he destroys, (Brenda, one of his hookers (Rose Gregorio) commits suicide after Jack refuses to see her) will goat Tom to bring him in, having uncovered evidence it was Amsterdam who introduced the victim to the pornographer, who murdered her. Unfortunately Des also knew the victim, albeit only in passing. Jack's liaison with the church, Dan Campion, (Ed Flanders) is also facing ruin from the scandal that will ensue, (he was the first to have a sexual tryst with the victim) and tries to get Des to stop Tom's investigation, informing him that she was the hitchhiker they picked up on their way back from Santa Anita and if they go down Des will go with them. "You knew her too, Monsignor." "I knew her." Des replies. "You f**ked her."

Finally the film returns to 1963. For years Tom has carried the guilt that he ruined his brother's life and he needs his forgiveness. "It must have been hard, Des. It's my fault...I'm sorry." "No, Tommy you were my salvation, actually. You made me remember things I had forgotten. I thought I was someone I wasn't." Des consoles Tom he is unafraid of dying, that, "My bags are packed." Then in what they both know will be the last time the two brothers again attempt to connect. Both good yet touched by the same corruption: the sin of pride for Tom, ambition for Des, and both needed forgiveness. Reaffirming the love between them despite all that has happened, Des leads Tom to the plot he has set aside for himself and he hopes one day for Tom where they both may rest safe from worldly temptations. It is one of the most moving moments in the film. Requiescat in pace.

Detour (2003 Video)

Fun gore fest with lots of beautiful women running around scantily clad.

[10/10 · 6 August 2004]

First of all let me state for the record that I participated in this film, albeit in a small way, so my comments may seem and probably are somewhat prejudiced. I like the film. It's a fun gore fest with lots of beautiful women running around scantily clad. Giddyap! Seven ravers have all been invited to Freak Central for dinner-not where they eat, but where they are eaten. Who gets out of the invite and who doesn't makes up the bulk of the film. Thats not to say it doesn't have flaws, it does. But many of these faults stem from the fact the film was made on a shoestring. And yes, in ways it is an unofficial remake of "The Hills Have Eyes" by way of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". What is impressive is how much actually works in the film. At 88 minutes it moves right along, has great cinematography and locations as well as a soundtrack that pulsates. It does a good job of creating atmosphere and building tension. And it's funny too. My favorite bit was the scene where King Freak (T.C. Davidson) is carrying Tara (Ashley Elizabeth) like a sack of potatoes away from the Freak residence seemingly intent on getting her alone and doing God only knows what to her, only to be interrupted when Queen Freak (Micky Levy) calls to him from the second floor window like a good little freak wife and happy homemaker to tell him dinner, (Jill Jacobs, held captive and chained upside down) is ready. I guess Tara is going to be dessert. Such a tasty little morsel too. Nice cheeks.

When Worlds Collide (1951)

A goofy, glorious science-fiction postcard from the early fifties

[22 June 2004]

"THERE ARE MORE STARS IN THE HEAVENS THAN PEOPLE ON EARTH!" a portentous voice-over intones amidst the background of a celestial choir. And with that very important fact established for those in the audience that might actually believe otherwise, we're off and running. Some movies are so loopy they're just plain fun to watch no matter how absurd they are. And with an opening like the one described you know this George Pal gem is going to be a hoot. "When Worlds Collide" was Pal's follow-up to his successful "Destination Moon" which along with "Rocketship-XM" launched the Golden Age of fifties sci-fi. It was a simpler time, an era in science-fiction films when all that was required for space travel was to "Strap yourselves in!" and "contract your muscles!" When astronauts wore leather flight jackets instead of space suits, and were always on the make for a beautiful pair of gams, (i.e. women) when all scientists smoked pipes and wore goatees, (that's how you knew they were intelligent) and were completely absorbed in their ivory tower research, oblivious to everything including at times the safety of the world. Worse whenever some dangerous creature was running amok their response to stopping it was invariably, "It shouldn't be destroyed, it should be studied!" or "It's so much wiser than us, we can learn so much!" It was an era when a woman wasn't considered complete without a man in her life, and even if she was a brilliant astrophysicist, all she really needed to know (as every man knew) was how to make a decent pot of coffee, when radiation was the answer to any problem, as in "Beast from 20,000 Fathoms" or was the reason for every problem like the giant ants in "Them!" Well, with the exception of extraterrestrials, radiation and giant insects, "When Worlds Collide" has all this and more!

This film is so ripe some enterprising filmmaker could do a parody of it, except it's hard to imagine how it could be done better. Eminent astronomer, Dr. Emery Bronson, (pipe smoking and goateed) has made a terrible discovery from his remote ivory tower observatory in South Africa. Two "heavenly bodies" are on a collision course with Earth. One, called Zyra will pass close enough to wreak havoc on land and sea, while the other, called Bellus will actually strike the planet and destroy it days later. "Money doesn't mean anything now. Time is all that matters!" So the pertinent, secret data must be taken at once to Professor Hendron in New York for corroboration on the Differential Analyzer, a fifties version of the computer. Enter Dave Randall, a leather flight jacket wearing pilot-soon-to-be-astronaut. Dave is always on the make for a beautiful pair of gams sort of guy, and blissfully unaware of the bad news he is carrying. At the airport Professor Hendron's daughter Joyce, played with wonderful vapidity by Barbara Rush awaits him. A newspaperman has offered Randall $5,000.00 for the secret of the little black box handcuffed to him. But Dave takes one look at Joyce and like a starving man eyeing a sirloin steak tells the reporter, "No thanks, I'm working on a better offer!" With the clock ticking on humanity they decide to take a taxi through the New York traffic to the breathlessly waiting professor. Along the way Randall manages to coax out of the trusting Joyce, who evidently never heard the expression, "loose lips sink ships" that the end of the world is upon them. Rush exclaims, "I'm frightened!" And then in one of the film's choice bits, slowly faces the camera and exclaims deadpan, "You see, I haven't the courage to face the end of the world!" The music swells, Randall squirms as if he just sat in something smelly left behind by a pet, slow fade out.

Most of the film deals with the construction of the rocket-ship, a latter day Noah's Ark, which will carry 44 individuals picked by lottery to make a new home on Zyra. It's their hope to build a bright shining new white world-literally for there is nary a single member of a minority group to be found among them. But money is needed for the project and since the Federal Government can't be bothered with saving humanity, wealthy industrialist Sidney Stanton, supplies that-provided he has a seat reserved aboard. "I think you're all crackpots!" he hisses. "Build it!" John Hoyt, deliciously nasty as the wheelchair bound Stanton steals the film. The cheesy but fun special effects kick into high gear with the approach of Zyra. Tidal waves strike New York, earthquakes rock the planet, and volcanoes erupt while the celestial choir swells yet again as a solemn voice-over intones, "Never has humanity felt so close to God!" Hendron reproaches Stanton with, "Not your sort of hypocritical prayer but the kind that come from deep inside a man!" after the latter has gunned down his wormy manservant Ferris who made the mistake of telling his employer he was an "Easy man to hate!" Things go from bad to worse when those who lost the lottery decide to riot. The good news is that Joyce realizes she loves Dave, and best of all he gets to go along and fly the craft to Zyra. Alone with Joyce days before take off and the end of the world, he remarks with all the gravity and emotion of a man suffering from acute gastric discomfort, "The last sunrise!" Joyce tries to get him to look on the bright side, "The same sun will rise again on the new world!" she says, not the least bit distressed that several billion people are about to have their lives snuffed out in a cataclysm of cosmic proportions. Oh well, guess she'll make a pot of coffee.

Everything turns out "alright" in the end-all things considered. Cue celestial choir, fade out. "When Worlds Collide" is a fun, goofy, glorious science-fiction postcard from the early fifties.

Son of Frankenstein (1939)

A necrophilic family reunion; "We're all dead here."

[10/10 · 14 June 2004]

With the runaway success of the re-issue on a double bill of both "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" in the late nineteen thirties, Universal Studios decided it was time to resurrect their most lucrative property, the Frankenstein Monster, if the studio was to have any chance of surviving the fiscal year. True to form they originally intended to produce nothing more than a quick cheapie to cash in on the public's renewed interest in horror films. Director Rowland V. Lee had other ideas. He envisioned the film as a modern fairy tale with Frankenstein's Monster as the traditional giant ogre stalking a primordial landscape, and to be sure it is in this film that he first enters the realm of myth. To help achieve this goal he set Jack Otterson to create the most expressionistic sets of any horror film since "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari". The universe of "Son" is a world of perpetual night and fog; rain swept castles and blasted heaths; terrifying flashes of lightening; shadowy corridors where giants lurk; hidden passage ways leading to underground crypts, where time, dust and the worm aren't the only things that move among the dead. "Son of Frankenstein" is the most visually impressive of all of Universal's horror films and George Robinson's gorgeous black and white cinematography captures every shadow, every out-sized distortion beautifully.

This would also be the last time a Frankenstein film would have a script worthy of the subject. Willis Cooper fashioned a contemporary Grimm's fairy tale in which the journey of the film's "outsiders", Wolf, Elsa, and Peter will become progressively more nightmarish the deeper they descend; where even breakfast in the morning will be overseen by a pair of monstrous gargoyles. They're journeying by train to inherit the Frankenstein estate, unknown to them a house literally at the edge of Hell, and these opening shots are the most "normal" in the entire film. They think of themselves as "explorers" and "exploring something so foreign we can't even imagine what its like." They speak of the castle being "haunted", while outside the window we see through the wind and the rain a gray expanse of desolation and dead trees. "What a strange country!" Elsa exclaims. Their passage into the subterranean netherworld of mad doctors, murderous hunchbacks and monsters has begun and will climax in a necrophilic family reunion, ("We're all dead here.") in the Frankenstein crypt, in which both grandfather and father are dead, but the step-brother, the monster and family black sheep is very much alive. "Do you mean to imply that is my brother?" Wolf asks. Igor, the true Frankenstein family retainer replies, "Only his mother was the lightening." And it is Wolf's voyage from arrogance and ignorance, ("Why should we fear anything!") to humility and wisdom, ("Never in my life have I known cold fear until that moment I felt his hand on my shoulder!") which is central to the film.

While the film is a follow up to "Bride of Frankenstein", it very much stands on its own. Gone are any references to the Bride and Dr, Praetorious, both presumably "blown to atoms" at the climax of that film. Also the monster doesn't speak. All traces of speech, at Karloff's insistence were eliminated. The portrait of Colin Clive as Henry Frankenstein dominates the castle's study, and recalls the earlier films. In the scenes on the train Wolf refers to the, "Blunder of a stupid assistant who gave his father's creation the brain of a killer instead of a normal one." This is of course, a direct reference to the first film. Karloff's return to his greatest role completes the linking of the three films. And consistent with the impressive visuals, the Monster is given his most striking look. Gone is the distinctly twentieth century black garb so beloved of the Universal Frankenstein films. Instead the Monster is clothed in a crude sheepskin jersey, with heavy shirt and trousers stitched together with strips of leather. Indeed, his whole appearance has become that of a giant, an ogre out of Grimm or Perrault. He even gets the traditional giant's club in the form of Krogh's wooden arm at the film's climax. As if to underscore this, Peter gives the Monster a present-a storybook of fairy tales!

The film may have the greatest horror film cast ever. There is Karloff dominating as the Monster. Given less screen time than in the previous film, his scenes are still among his most powerful. To cite just two examples, the scene where he rises like Lucifer out of the pit is like an image from Dante's Inferno while his primal howl of grief upon discovering the dead Igor is one of the Monster's greatest moments from any of the Frankenstein films. Bela Lugosi easily has his best role after Dracula as the broken neck, hunchback, Igor. Creepy, roguish, even pitiable, one is reminded of what a fine actor he could be with a role worthy of his talent. Lionel Atwill with his beautifully clipped vocal delivery and sardonic sense of humor has his definitive screen role as the one arm Inspector Krogh; he doesn't miss any opportunity for scene stealing bits of business with that wooden arm. And there is Basil Rathbone as Wolf. He doesn't have Karloff's make-up or Lugosi's broken neck or Atwill's wooden arm, but he gives a full-blooded commanding performance that refuses to get lost in this who's who of cinematic ghouls. William K. Everson once said that only a truly great actor can get away with a little deliberate ham now and then, and if Rathbone is a little over the top, it is ham well seasoned and served and adds enormously to the enjoyment of the film. Finally Frank Skinner's incredible film score would set the standard for Universal's horror films for the next decade.

The Charge of the Light Brigade (1968)

These three stooges thoroughly deserve the censure of history.

[10/10 · 30 March 2004]

First, it should be noted that Tony Richardson's "The Charge of the Light Brigade (1968) is not a remake of the Errol Flynn classic adventure film of 1936; rather it is based on the Cecil Woodham-Smith work of military history, "The Reason Why". Both book and film are a debunking of the Tennyson poem. And hard as it is to believe, Richardson's film actually tones down the absurdities of the three principle figures responsible for the debacle at Balaclava. And these three stooges thoroughly deserve the censure of history, for never were the lives of six hundred brave men thrown away more senselessly than with the charge of the Light Brigade.

Richardson depicts the insanity of the Crimean War and Victorian society's glorification of militarism with a death's head sense of humor which makes the horrors of the conflict all the more potent. And he is unsparing in his condemnation of the culture that could glorify so unmitigated a disaster as Balaclava. The film was made at the height of America's involvement in the Vietnam War and it is an implicit critique of that conflict and war in general in that all countries regardless of time and place indulge in the pastime of National Lying. The greater the calamity, the greater the need to lie or glorify, for always the dead must count for something. In that sense the film is universal as well as timeless.

Using animation in the style of the Victorian newspaper caricaturists, during the opening credits, the film quickly details the events that led up to the war. This is also one of the few films to hold the media, in this case the English newspapers of the time, accountable for their actions. Instead of calling for deliberations and a halt to the madness that must inevitably lead to war, the press is shown whipping the British nation into war frenzy. These animated sequences which appear throughout the film to forward the exposition are both wonderfully inventive and wickedly delicious.

Throughout the film which is satiric and misanthropic in tone, the lower classes are shown to be stupid, ugly, and easily led, while the upper classes are shown to be stupid, beautiful, and utterly incapable of leading. Indeed the only decent individuals portrayed are either destroyed or trampled under foot by events and/or the arrogant stupidity of their superiors. Yet Richardson is never judgmental; rather he takes a Kubrickian detached point of view, allowing the viewers to observe the era and its foibles/morals and judge for themselves. And England of the mid-nineteenth century is beautifully recreated here. Hairstyles and uniforms and sets are rendered in exquisite detail. It takes its rightful place along side "Barry Lyndon" and "The Duelists" as among the most successful period recreations.

The film also uses a lot of period colloquialisms such as, "My cherry-bums!" and "All this swish-n-tits has made me randified!" and "You tell that stew-stick of a brother-in-law, that Brudenell to fetch off!" Wonderful, though some first time viewers may have difficulty understanding exactly what has just been expressed. And what a cast! Trevor Howard, Harry Andrews and especially John Gielgud give career topping performances. Gielgud as Lord Raglan, the slightly befuddled commander-in-chief, steals every scene he is in. Aging, tired in mind and body, missing one arm, continuously mistaking the French, ("Our allies, My Lord...") for the enemy, never quite grasping the situation whether in his office or on the field of battle, ("England is pretty, babies are pretty, some table linen is very pretty!") Its a delightful comic turn. And who wouldn't feel sorry for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught between Trevor Howard as the choleric Lord Cardigan, ("The melancholy truth was that his golden head had nothing in it.") and Harry Andrews as the equally bilious Lord Lucan? From the moment we see his saturnine countenance striding up the marble steps of the War Office we know this is a humorless, flint-hearted martinet. Both Lords had a long running personal feud which they quickly placed on an official level as well with unfortunate consequences for the Light Brigade.

David Hemmings and Vanessa Redgrave are the young romantic leads. Hemmings is Captain Lewis Nolan, a forward thinking career officer with very definite ideas how war should be conducted. He has returned to England after service in India to join Cardigan's regiment, and quickly runs afoul of the Lord in the affair of the "Black Bottle". In reality it involved another officer, who Cardigan placed under arrest for serving porter, (it was actually Moselle) when he had given strict orders that only champagne be served at the mess. Nolan the professional is unstinting in his criticisms or the three amateur Lords conduct of the war, and yet he too will play an unwitting part in the final destruction of the Brigade. A man of honor, whose honor however does not prelude having an affair with his best friends wife. Redgrave as the wife is as always, luminescent. The supporting cast sparkles as well. Mark Dignam as General Airey, Raglan's Chief of Staff, ("Speak up Nolan, he's a bit hard of hearing, and that statue doesn't help!") Howard Marion-Crawford as Lt. General Sir George Brown, Peter Bowles as Captain Henry Duberly, Norman Rossington as Sergeant Major Corbett, ("Right foot, straw foot!") and especially Jill Bennett as a lascivious Fanny Duberly all are very effective. This was also one of the last appearances of the great English classical actor, Sir Donald Wolfit, who would die later that year.

Finally enough cannot be said of Charles Wood's wonderful screenplay. With its exquisite use of the period vernacular it does a superb job of combining characters while paring history down to the essential to reconstruct the chain of events that led up to the destruction of the Light Brigade.

Waterloo (I) (1970)

"Next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won..."

[10/10 · 15 March 2004]

Depicting history on film has never been easy. In all cases the history is simplified and events compressed, while historical personalities are often combined or eliminated entirely. This is perfectly understandable given the needs of cramming information into a two, perhaps three hour film, while maintaining some sort of dramatic continuity and structure. Generally speaking, while the political and social currents are painted in broad strokes, costume, make-up and especially art direction can vividly recreate in glorious detail an era, if only on a visual level. The attitudes and speech of the performers play an important part here as well for nothing will destroy the audience's willing suspension of belief in a period recreation faster than a performance or vocal intonation that seem anachronistic.

Do these films succeed as cinema? "JFK" and "Lawrence of Arabia" are both great films because they succeed as works of cinema first, however inaccurate or debatable the history they depict. History's depiction in cinema must take a back seat to film ascetics given the limitation of the medium in allowing for examination of an individual or event with anything approaching depth or scope. Sergei Bondarchuk's "Waterloo" (1970) was his follow-up to his previous, equally spectacular "War and Peace" (1968). Both films recreate the Napoleonic Age on a visual level to a degree of detail that has never been equaled. While the earlier film was based on the celebrated novel of Tolstoy, "Waterloo" concerns itself with the events leading up to the confrontation between Emperor Napoleon I and Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington. Any film dealing with the out-sized figure of Napoleon Bonaparte must confront the problem of a super abundance of source material, the adapting of which would be daunting to a modern mini-series, let alone a film running a little over two hours in length. Obviously simplification is a necessity. Indeed the film opens with a brief written prologue summing up the events of the past twenty years leading up to the battle. Yet "Waterloo" is unique in that virtually all the dialogue is taken from historical sources. Very little is made up, and Bondarchuk with co-scriptwriters H.A.L. Craig and Vittorio Bonicelli fashioned a story that is lucid and taut while remaining remarkably accurate to the actual event.

Bondarchuk was an absolute master of logistics, perhaps the greatest. and "Waterloo" places on display his considerable talents. With an eye for detail he and his technicians reconstructed the entire battlefield, complete with chateaus and farmhouses. In addition they installed beneath the earth a watering system allowing them to soak the various fields of wheat and barley as needed. Given the use of a Russian army division of 20,000 men to represent the French, English and Prussian armies, he deployed them-in costume-complete with all the necessary Napoleonic ordinance to recreate the most famous battle in history. And all of this was achieved without the use of CGI and digital effects. It was all done live and the result is incredible; an actual Napoleonic battle recreated on a full scale. With columns of smoke and fire, charging horses, thousands of troops in brilliant uniforms marching in formation, the film as caught by cinematographer Armando Nannuzz has a horrific grandeur. The stirring score by Nino Rota uses music from the period as well as actual martial tunes played by Napoleon's Old Guard as they marched into battle. All the set pieces of the battle are lovingly recreated; the assault on the Hougoumount, the charge of the Scots Greys, the forming of the British army into squares, the final stand of the Old Guard.

Bondarchuk also wisely focuses on the personalities of the two protagonists. He is well served by both Rod Steiger as Napoleon and Christopher Plummer as Wellington. Steiger is earthy and passionate, a brilliant charismatic leader racing against the rapid decaying of his faculties. Plummer is arrogant, aloof, a disdainful English aristocrat, "Scum. Nothing but gutter trash and scum!" And he is referring to his own troops. They are surrounded by a great supporting cast. Happily the film is well served here as well. Dan O'Herlihy as Marshal Ney does a superb job of suggesting a man struggling desperately with some inner conflict. As his British counterpart, Jack Hawkins plays the hard-bitten General Sir Thomas Picton. He is an aristocrat more at home on the battlefield than on the ballroom dance floor. Orson Welles does an effective cameo as the fat, gouty, ineffectual Louis XVIII. Welles does a remarkable job in his few minutes of screen time by actually making the fleeing Bourbon King sympathetic rather than buffoonish. Virginia McKenna does a delicious turn as the worldly Duchess of Richmond in a stunning ballroom sequence that sets Byron's poem, "The Eve of Waterloo" to it cinematic equivalent.

The film was long rumored to run over four hours in the Russian version, and at times it does have the feel of a film that has been cut, but recently the film's Associate Producer and Editor Richard C. Meyer has confirmed that the longest known version ran 132 minutes and that the "four hour" version was merely a rough cut never meant for distribution. A quick look at the complete cast list, however suggests otherwise as many never made it to the released film.

Treasure Island (1990 TV Movie)

Shiver-me-timbers, this is the best version of the Stevenson classic!

[10/10 · 11 February 2004]

Shiver-me-timbers, this is the best version of the Robert Louis Stevenson classic! In fact it is a model of cinematic adaptation. Closely following the book, with whole scenes and dialogue taken straight from its pages, the film never bogs down into the kind of stuffy lifelessness that sometimes afflicts adaptations attempting to be faithful to their literary source. Indeed Frazier Heston's screenplay and direction capture the brisk, page turning pleasure of the book nicely. Add to his sure direction, wonderful locations, a picture-perfect cast and a rousing music score by the Chieftains and you have one of the best pirate movies ever made. And for once they really are pirates and not watered down, sentimentalized versions of them. They're cut-throats all, a scurvy lot of thieves, superstitious and dirty. You can just smell their stench under the hot tropic sun and lush vegetation of Skeleton Island.

Oliver Reed as Billy Bones gets the movie going smartly. We first see him with his granite visage at the head of the skiff, an old sea dog home from the sea. With his great hulk and whiskey whisper purr he exudes danger from every rum soaked pore of his being. Of course his old shipmates, the remnants of the crew of the now dead Captain Flint, are pursuing him. Christopher Lee, almost completely unrecognizable, is Blind Pew, a spectral, skeletal figure of death, whose fury, fueled by blindness is like some great ravaging bird of prey. He is wonderful and like Reed he creates a vivid, memorable characterization. A young Christian Bale is the definitive Jim Hawkins. He narrates the proceedings and is at turns appealing, capable and wily. He is a boy on the verge of young manhood who is about to have his mettle tested with the adventure of a lifetime. There is not a trace of the Jackie Cooper mawkishness about him. Richard Johnson as Squire Trelawney, Julian Glover as Dr. Livesey, and Clive Wood as Captain Smollet are all perfect in their roles. They beautifully capture the essence of quiet courage. Heroes without phony heroics, they are solid men of character sure of themselves and quite capable of dealing with Silver and his scurvy crew.

This brings us to Charlton Heston as Long John Silver. Ultimately for any version of this work to succeed it rests on the shoulder of the actor portraying the Sea Cook. Happy to say, Heston gives one of the best performances of his long career. Turning his stalwart, forthright screen persona on its head, he creates a monster that is complex, charismatic, and bloodthirsty. There is no Wallace Beery, Robert Newton sentimentality here. This is a natural leader of men who can dazzle with his bigger than life personality and tales of treasure, and the next moment plunge his cutlass into the bowels of his victim without even missing a beat. Never has he used his toothy smile to better effect. It is the smile of a vicious carnivore-a shark. On a lighter note Nicholas Amer brings the right balance of levity and pathos as Ben Gunn, the poor maroon. He is amusing without becoming a caricature, and his scene with Jim when describes his yearning for a piece of toasted cheese is wonderful. Both Pete Postlewaite as George Merry and Michael Halsey as Israel Hands are perfectly nasty.

Finally the music score by the Chieftains is superb. It captures by turns the lilting Celtic love of the sea, the grace and sweep of a great sailing ship setting out for adventure and the exotic dangers of buried treasure, pirates, flashing cutlasses, and midnight rendezvous on a far away island in the balmy tropics. Avast, me hearties, this is a film to treasure!

Peter Pan (2003)

A glorious retelling of the J.M. Barrie tale

[10/10 · 6 January 2004]

Tradition be damned! I HATED the Mary Martin, Sandy Duncan, Cathy Rigby productions of Peter Pan! There, I've said it. I realize I'm in the minority on this point, but I have NEVER been able to accept the idea of some actress dressing up in silly green tights, singing equally silly songs, while pretending to be a prepubescent boy pretending to fly on silly piano wires. I fully admit that it's a pet peeve of mine and not meant to denigrate those who have delighted in this tradition. As a long time lover of the J.M. Barrie stories and play, all I can say is that P.J. Hogan's "Peter Pan" is the Pan movie I have waited my entire life for. It is simply a glorious retelling of the J.M. Barrie tale. After Spielberg's dreadful 1991 abortion, "Hook" I was convinced that the story had been buried forever as far as big budget film-making was concerned. I thought all there would be was the 1953 Disney animated film, which unfortunately is more Disney than Barrie or worse, that I was condemned to a lifetime of endless reruns of Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard. Boy, was I wrong. Taking its visual cue from the wondrous illustrations of Maxfield Parrish, Edmund Dulac, N.C. Wyeth and Arthur Rackham, this new film recreates the storybook Never Land on a level that has never been achieved before, nor will ever be again.

But the film is not simply a special-effects fest a la "Star Wars". The effects, dazzling as they are, are just the icing on the cake. Hogan understands it is the characters, and our need to care for them, that must carry the film. And this film has a wonderful cast. Jeremy Sumpter is a great Peter Pan. Gifted with a luminous smile and physicality, he captures all the radiant cockiness, the self-delighted impishness of undefeated, indefatigable youth. One almost feels sorry for Hook for having such an adversary. Rachel Hurd-Wood in a very impressive film debut does a marvelous job as Wendy, the young daughter of the Darlings now at the beginning of young womanhood. Hurd-Wood is both child and woman, and she and Sumpter have very warm and charming screen chemistry in their scenes together, capturing the potentially dangerous under-current of adolescent sensuality without ever hitting you over the head with it, or becoming too cloy. Olivia Williams as Mrs. Darling isn't given much to do, beyond being the mother everyone wishes they had, but she does that very well, and she serves the story beautifully. And she is absolutely gorgeous. In the double role of Mr. Darling/Captain Hook, Jason Isaacs finally comes into his own as the cinema's most perfidious villain since Basil Rathbone crossed swords with Errol Flynn. Isaacs is simply magnificent in a role he was born to play. With a sneer and a swash of his buckle he obliterates forever the image of Hook as a buffoon, the mere butt of Peter's jokes. This is a dangerous, deadly Hook, a figure of Satanic dignity, who one can believe might actually best Peter some dark, unlucky night. Lynn Redgrave plays the role of Aunt Millicent, a character created for the film and not in any of the Peter Pan literature. While the new part doesn't really add anything to the story, it doesn't really take anything away either. And Redgrave is always a joy to watch. Finally the performance of the great Richard Briers should be noted. As Smee he steals every scene he is in. It is a delightful comic turn.

The one performance I questioned was Ludivine Sagnier as Tinker Bell. While I loved the concept of Tink as a bitch-sprite, capable of murderous intent, I felt at times her performance was a little broad. This may have been the outgrowth of having to play a purely physical role without the benefit of any spoken lines. On the other hand I thought she was vastly superior to Julia Roberts who played the same role in "Hook". Nor was she a Marilyn Monroe wannabe from Disney. Sagnier to her credit never plays the part for easy sentimentality.

Hogan and company have brought the Barrie work to the screen and have rightly restored to it a child's sense of awe and wonder, of both beauty and terror co-existing side by side and for this reason alone it is the definitive film version of Peter Pan

Nicholas and Alexandra (1971)

Among the last of the "thinking man's epics" and one of the best.

[10/10 · 5 October 2002]

At the time of it's release in December of 1971, "Nicholas and Alexandra" must have seemed like an anachronistic piece of film-making, especially when compared with fellow Best Picture Nominees, "A Clockwork Orange", "The French Connection" and "The Last Picture Show". Based on a best-selling work of popular history, it was film making on a grand scale, boasting for it's cast a veritable who's who of the English speaking stage, a sweeping love story spanning many years, thrown over thousands of miles, using the conflict of World War I and the Russian Revolution as it's background. It must have seemed to many like the best film David Lean never made. And superficially it does resemble Lean's epic of a few years earlier, "Doctor Zhivago". Indeed three of Lean's close associates, Producer Sam Spiegel, Production Designer John Box, and Cinematographer, Freddie Young all shine in this production. Unfortunately having arrived late in the historical epic film cycle, it was largely dismissed at the time of it's release by critics, but time has revealed it's many virtues.

Produced with lavish care and attention to detail by Sam Spiegel for Horizon Pictures, "Nicholas and Alexandra" is among the last of the great "thinking man's epics" and one of the best. This is due in no small measure to the wonderful screenplay by James Goldman. Goldman, who also scripted "The Lion in Winter" and "Robin and Marian" had a fine ear for dialogue, and "Nicholas and Alexandra" is a pleasure to listen to as well as to behold. Like Robert Bolt's "Lawrence of Arabia", Charles Wood's "Charge of the Light Brigade" and Robert Ardrey's "Khartoum", all fine historical epics, Goldman's "Nicholas and Alexandra" is elevated by an intelligent script laced with fine dialogue. Transposing history onto the screen is never an easy task, but the story of the last years of the Romanov Dynasty is well served by Goldman. He skillfully telescopes events, while still remaining basically true to historic fact. One way or another, all films dealing with history compromise fact for drama. The best of them achieve a balance between the two. Those pedants who quibble over this fact of life, please refer to the historical plays of Shakespeare for it's validation.

Among the film's many pleasures is the high level of acting by an impressive cast. Michael Jayston and Janet Suzman are simply magnificent in the lead roles. It was an uncanny and bold choice using two unknowns to star in a film of this scope, and they have no problems carrying the three hour film. Both create complex, three-dimensional characters, deeply flawed, yet appealing, sympathetic and infuriating. it is the film's unwillingness to portray them as simply victims that gives it tragic grandeur. A special note must be made of Tom Baker's performance as Rasputin. Too often in previous movies film-makers have exploited the sensational events of the man's life and nothing more. This film actually had the courage to downplay those lurid elements, striving instead for complexity of character. Here we have a tortured individual, a charlatan and a monk, lascivious yet craving spiritual redemption. The Imperial Children are also sensitively depicted, with a standout performance by Roderic Noble as the hemophiliac only son, Alexis. The internal angst he brings to the part in his later scenes is impressive. Franklin J. Schaffner's able direction keeps the film moving along, and at no time is there any danger of the film losing focus on the two leads. This was no mean feat considering the powerhouse supporting cast that included, Laurence Olivier, Michael Redgrave, Harry Andrews, Irene Worth, Jack Hawkins, Ian Holm, Michael Bryant, Brian Cox, Eric Porter, Timothy West, Peter McEnery, Julian Glover, Roy Dotrice, Maurice Denham, Alan Webb, Guy Rolfe, Steven Berkof and John Wood, all of whom do memorable turns.

In the first half of the movie, the filmmakers vividly bring to life the isolated fairy-tale world the Imperial Family inhabited. The beautiful palaces, and villas provide a striking contrast to the shabby, squalid prison quarters of the film's second half, which deals largely with the Romanov's exile and imprisonment in Siberia. The murder of the Royal Family in the basement of the Ipatiev house, the so called "House of Special Purpose" is one of the most strikingly directed scenes in the film. The brutal suddenness with which it is depicted packs quite a wallop. Filmed in Panavision, the film is gorgeous to look at. John Box's recreation of Imperial Russia at the turn of the century truly deserved it's Academy Award for Best Production Design, as did Yvonne Blake for Best Costume Design. Freddie Young's stunning cinematography and Richard Rodney Bennett's haunting music score were also nominated, though they both lost to other films. Finally it is a beautifully edited film, a marvelous example of invisible editing used to create a subtle, but powerful sense of irony. A superb film that deals intelligently with the problems inherent in transposing history onto film.

The Red Tent (1969)

"Men are judged by their actions and their actions by their success."

[10/10 · 26 September 2002]

Asked to give his assessment of Umberto Nobile's leadership in the Italia airship disaster of 1927, his friend and colleague, Samoilovich, offers this sage advice, "Men are judged by their actions and their actions by their success". What exactly are the qualities needed for leadership? "The Red Tent" is a wonderful meditation on that question. At the time Nobile was disgraced, he was accused of abandoning his men, and made a scapegoat for the disaster by Benito Mussolini's Fascist government. Forty years after the event his rest is still disturbed by doubts he has about the leadership he exercised. Could the tragedy have been averted? Was it his vanity to be the first to cross the pole by air, that led to the calamity? These and other questions are tackled in this thoughtful film.

The entire film actually takes place in the General's mind. He calls back various participants to the event, to re-live what happened, and ultimately to pass judgment on him. It is this framing device that makes the film unique, for it examines Nobile's leadership from a divergent points of view, allowing the viewers to make their own judgment as well. It is a theatrical device to be sure, but it works in this film. In time we come to learn that truth often walks on two legs and has a left and right hand. "Yet we must have judgment", says one of the participants, and so they do. These scenes which all take place in Nobile's apartment in Rome with it's warmth and comfort, provide a wonderful contrast to the stark reality of the struggle for survival at the Arctic Pole.

The film is beautifully written and the acting is of a high level throughout. Sean Connery, ridding himself of his Bond image, plays Roald Amundsen, the great Arctic explorer at the end of his days. It is Amundsen who exemplifies the qualities a great leader should have. It is the first and in some ways still the best of Connery's wise old man performances. He is also the one participant Nobile has most conspicuously not brought back. After intruding on the proceedings like some force of nature, he describes how he had reached the wreak of the Italia, only to crash land and be stranded. With nothing to do but wait to freeze to death he finds solace in his final moments of life with a book he has found strewn among the wreckage. The cynical Lundborg scornfully rejects this "final touch" as "theatrical" "But who would I be acting for?" Amundsen asks. "Yourself" Lundborg replies. "But that isn't acting," Connery wisely replies, "That's necessary. The trick is to choose the right part." The film is filled with great lines like this. Claudia Cardinale, as Nurse Valaria, provides the emotional center of the film. She resents the good people of King's Bay capitalizing on the disaster, yet she has no misgivings whatever in playing on Amundsen's sense of guilt to get him to mount a rescue attempt. After all he had introduced her lover, the Meteorologist, Finn Malgrem to Arctic exploration. She is also willing to offer herself to Lundborg if he will risk his life to fly in unsafe weather conditions. It is her bitter confrontation with Nobile after he has been safely brought back to King's Bay while the others were left freezing on the ice, that is the beginning of his sleepless nights. His inability to stop Zampi, his ambitious second in command from leaving the red tent with Mariano and Malgrem in a vain attempt to reach help, would result in the Meteorologist being lost on the ice. "You cracked like the ice." she tells the General. "We shall never meet again I hope. And I hope you never forget." He doesn't.

Peter Finch as Nobile carries the film, and he is in every way up to the task. He manages to convey the intelligence, courage, vanity and despair of this self-doubting individual. He is a man who both admires Amundsen and resents always being compared with him. Hardy Kruger plays the dashing Aviator Lundborg with a nice blend of charm and hard edge cynicism. He is the first to reach the survivors. His motives for rescuing the Nobile over the General's objections that he take the other members of his expedition first, some of whom are badly injured, may have been less than admirable, but it is this act that will ultimately save the others. Lundborg finally persuades the General to go with a combination of threats,(he will leave him and the others behind), reassurance,(six quick trips and it will be over), and finally reason, (the General is badly needed at King's Bay to organize the rescue). The others also agree the General must go. It is only when he is safely back at King's Bay, that he realizes his actions have been badly misconstrued as an act of desertion. By that time weather conditions have changed again and it is impossible to go back and rescue the others by air. "What do they think I've done?" he asks Captain Romagna, the ineffectual rescue coordinator, after reading a cable from Rome placing him under arrest. "They think you have done what you have done, I suppose." Romagna lamely replies. While aboard ship, Nobile radios his friend Samoilovitch to use the icebreaker Krassin to rescue the others. This he does. "Men are judged by their actions and their actions by their success." The General's decision to leave his men led to his being able to radio the Krassin which in turn led to the rescue of his men. "His actions, therefor were correct."

Lastly, Ennio Morricone's lush score captures both the romance of a great endeavor being undertaken and the desolate, ethereal beauty of the Arctic. This film deserves to be seen and heard, and one can only hope that one day it will be restored.