Author: Snugglecub

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Godfather – 1972

Everyone I have talked to about The Godfather has gone on and on, telling me how great the movie is.  So, going into it, my expectations were high.  Well, this time I was not disappointed.  It really was an awesome film!  Set from 1945 to 1955, this movie followed the lives of the fictional New York crime family, the Corleones.  Director Francis Ford Coppola spearheaded this epic drama that spawned that famous line “I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

And epic is the right word.  The plot was a big one on a grand scale.  The music was wonderful, which was actually a noticeable relief.  After some of the most recent movies like In the Heat of the Night, Midnight Cowboy, and The French Connection, which each had more pop or jazz scores, and Patton, which had an appropriate orchestral score, but was far too dispassionate and military for my tastes, The Godfather brings back a huge sweeping score, full of emotion, passion and individuality which I haven’t heard since Lawrence of Arabia in 1962.  The score was written by Nino Rota.  It sounded unmistakably Italian, reflecting the Italian roots of the Mafia family.

Every character was incredibly well written and believable.  The casting was perfect and the acting was excellent.  The sets and costumes were spot-on.  The excessive violence was appropriate for the plot and never seemed gratuitous.  The Godfather was almost a bit of a period piece, even for 1972, the setting being 27 years prior.  The costumes and sets looked to be perfectly authentic.  Even the cars had that circa 1945 look.  Coppola really hit a home run with this one.

The film starts out at a wedding, during which Don (which means Boss) Vito Corleone, played by Marlon Brando, is conducting business.  What this means is that people in his family or his community come to him to ask for favors that cannot be accomplished by any legal means.  He commands their respect and even their adoration, and if he agrees to help them, they are indebted to him.

One such transaction, help asked of him by his godson, Johnny Fontane, in order to get a part in a film that he is being refused, is granted.  Vito agrees to secure the part for him by putting pressure on the studio head Jack Woltz.  He sends his consigliere (family lawyer) Tom Hagen, wonderfully played by Robert Duvall, to Woltz’s home.   This is what leads to the famous horse head in the bed scene.  You see, Woltz refused to cast Johnny in his movie, even after being asked to do so by Vito’s representative.  After being refused, Hagen leaves politely.  The next morning, Woltz wakes up to find the head of his prize stallion in his bed.  OK, the severed horse head is scary enough, but to me, the most frightening part of the whole thing is that whoever decapitated the horse was able to get the head, which is no small item, into his bed WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING IN IT without waking him.  The assassins were that stealthy.  If they could do all that without even waking him, they could do anything they wanted to him, whenever they wanted to.  Now, that is creepy!

Interesting note:  Animal rights groups protested the use of a real horse head in the film.  Coppola had to assure them that the horse’s head was delivered to him from a dog food company.  No horses were harmed in the making of this film.

All that was to demonstrate how far Don Corleone was willing to go to accomplish his desires.  Brando won the Academy Award for Best Actor for the role, even though he was not the first, second, or third choice to play the part.  It is widely considered the best film role of his career.  Once again, as in On the Waterfront, I have to acknowledge Brando as a fantastic actor.  He truly did a great job.

Vito’s two sons were also great characters.  His eldest boy, Sonny, is played by James Caan and his youngest son, Michael, is played by Al Pacino.  They did a great job and were both, along with Robert Duvall (whose character was actually really cool) nominated for Best Supporting Actor for their respective roles.

Interesting note:  Al Pacino boycotted the Academy awards that year, complaining that he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor instead of Best Actor, since he actually had more screen time than Marlon Brando.  Brando actually refused his Oscar win and boycotted the ceremony in protest to the way American Indians were depicted in Hollywood and on television.  Instead, he sent a Native American Indian in full Indian costume to the Awards Ceremony to explain his reasons for doing so.

I must admit that I have never been a huge James Caan fan, but I must concede that he was perfect for the role of Sonny.  He was hot-headed and dangerous, and his death scene is pretty spectacular.  It was also unexpected.  I didn’t see it coming.  Caan was very believable and earned my respect for the part.

But for me, the real star of the movie was Pacino.  As Vito’s son, he is a part of the family and is aware of the criminal actions of his father.  Yet he tries to maintain a distance from that side of the business.  But after Vito survives an assassination attempt, Michael is beat by a corrupt police officer while protecting him from further harm.  His response is to publicly murder the assassin and the Police officer, after which he is forced to leave the country.  A large portion of the plot follows his transformation from the innocent young man to the dangerous head of the Italian Mafia, Don Corleone.

Pacino was also very young, and a fairly unknown actor at the time.  He only had two movies under his belt, and even though producers thought him too short for the part, Coppola threatened to quit if Pacino was not cast.  I thought he did a remarkable job.  Back then, he had an innocent and youthful look that I’m sure appealed to audiences.

The story is fast-paced and action-packed with an ending that was very cool.  I don’t want to give too much away, but after Vito’s death, Michael ends up taking over the family business, including the illegal parts.  He does so with style, with brains, and with supreme vengeance.  Even though he is a mafia boss, even though he lies to his wife Kay, played very well by Diane Keaton (who was so young I honestly didn’t even recognize her as the mature actress we all know today!), even though he orders a host of murders and is a dangerous criminal of the first degree, you end up rooting for him.  He is a true antihero.

There are two fairly minor parts that I want to mention for their good acting.  First was Richard S. Castellano, playing the part of Peter Clemenza, a hit-man for Don Corleone.  He was also perfectly cast and did a great job.  His level of devotion to Vito, and then to Michael was very well done.  It sometimes seemed close to groveling, yet never over-the-top.  Second was Simonetta Stefanelli, Michael’s first wife, Apollonia, whom he met while hiding out in Sicily. She was gorgeous and really looked her part.  Her screen-time was brief but memorable.

The movie was incredibly popular with audiences.  Its original budget was only 2 million, yet it made 81.5 million in its initial release, making it the highest grossing film of 1972.  This was one of the big Best Picture winners, on par with Lawrence of Arabia, Ben-Hur, and Gone with the wind.  It really deserved that coveted Best Picture Oscar!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The French Connection – 1971

Popeye Doyle does not know the meaning of the phrase “I will not kick your ass!”  Who knew that Gene Hackman could be so angry and violent?  OK, here we are in 1971 with The French Connection.  It starred, of course, Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider, and Fernando Rey.  This was, in some respects, a good movie.  In other respects, I found it somewhat lacking.  The film was based on the non-fictional book of the same name.

The film was nominated for eight Academy Awards and won five.  Aside from Best Picture, Gene Hackman took home an Oscar for Best Actor, as did William Friedkin for Best Director, Ernest Tidyman for Best Adapted Screenplay, and Gerald B. Greenburg for Best Editing.

For my tastes, there was a lot of fast paced action and some good acting.  The story was also good.  The film starts out in Marseilles, France and within the first few minutes, a man gets shot in the face and killed.  Who is he?  Why was he killed?  And what does this murder have to do with Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider?  As you can see, the movie immediately draws you in, making you want to see more.

Well, after this brief scene, we cut to New York and begin following “Popeye” Doyle (Hackman) and “Cloudy” Russo (Scheider).  They are detectives, who have been on a stakeout and are making a drug bust.  One of the suspects runs, and our first chase ensues.  After catching the man, they beat him severely before arresting him.  Then they go to a nightclub and see “Sal” Boca having drinks with known criminals.  They tail him back to his home where they pull an all-night stakeout to watch him.

They obtain permission to wire-tap Sal’s phone and apartment.  They have more stakeouts, do some more tailing and chasing.  Then they have another stakeout and a really fast car chase.  They have another long stakeout and tear apart a car.  Then…  You get the picture?  Of course, there is a lot more to it than that, but I felt that way too much time was spent with stakeouts, tailing, and chasing.

And then there was the music.  How can I describe it?  It literally sounded like a five piece chamber orchestra with a couple of saxophones making obnoxious sounds and a guy with a couple of bongos. The recording quality was, I’m sorry to say, terrible and gave the whole film a kind of cheap quality.  I felt like the score was actually distracting me from the movie – it was that bad in my ears.  Maybe the director and Don Ellis, the man who wrote the music, were going for a certain disjointed, raw effect, but to me it just translated as bad and poorly recorded.

Interesting note:  For me, the best music in the film was featured in the nightclub scene.  The performing artists were The Three Degrees, a vocal group made up of three women.  Their biggest hit was the 1974 single When Will I See You Again.

But if you can get past all that, I found plenty of things about the film that I really liked.  The action sequences, especially the fast car chase, were really exciting to watch.  The characters were cool and well-acted.  I thought Popeye Doyle was very cool with his trench coat and little hat.  He went around kicking butt and taking names.  He is ruled by his passions and goes with his guts.  True, this behavior sometimes got him in trouble with his chief, but he was generally good at his job.  That is… until the end.

Cloudy Russo was a good counterpoint to Popeye.  He was more calm, more cautious, more level-headed, and yet very trusting of his partner and his gut-feelings.  I have seen Roy Scheider in plenty of other films and he always has a kind of coolness about him.  His personality is soft around the edges.  It was a perfect trait for Cloudy Russo.

You see, Popeye’s main problem was that he often acted before thinking.  It was both his greatest strength and his greatest failing.  Nowhere is this more evident than the big car chase scene.  First, the criminal who had attempted to assassinate him, killing a mother pushing a stroller, then hijacks an elevated train as it speeds above the streets of New York.  Doyle, uses his police badge to hijack a civilian’s car and starts chasing the train.  He is driving on both sides of the street, causing and participating in car accidents all along the way.  He miraculously avoids killing anyone in his 90 mph pursuit and eventually catches his criminal.  Well… he shoots him in the back and kills him at any rate.

Interesting note:   Many of the police officers acting as advisers for the film objected to the scene on the grounds that shooting a suspect in the back was simply murder, not self-defense, but the director stood by it, saying that it was within character.

The end of the film was also not a typical end.  Not all the bad guys were caught, and Doyle screwed up in a horribly unbelievably fashion, murdering another police officer!  That’s OK for an ending, except for the fact that this movie is supposed to be based upon true events.  They even went so far as to give a few seconds of epilogue, telling the audience what happened to the surviving characters.

Apparently, the French drug trafficker, Alain Charnier (Fernando Rey), commonly referred to in the film as “Frog one” was never caught by American authorities.  He escaped back to France.  His real life counterpart was a man named Jean Jehan, who was eventually arrested in Paris on drug trafficking charges.  However, since France does not expedite its citizens, he never went to an American prison.

Popeye was actually a man named Eddie Egan.  His partner Cloudy was really Sonny Grosso.  The research I did didn’t say whether Egan actually shot and killed a fellow police officer, but the epilogue did state that he and his partner were transferred to different locations after the incident.

Interesting note:  The name Popeye was used because it was actually Eddie Egan’s nickname.  Both Egan and Grosso appeared in the movie in small roles.  Egan was Hackman’s supervisor, Simonson.  I remember that character looking good for the part, and his NY accent sounded unfeigned, but I thought he was hamming it up a bit much.  Now I know why: he was a professional Police Officer, not an actor.  Really, though, he did just fine.

While I can’t deny that I enjoyed the movie, there are definitely things that I thought could have been done better, like the music.  Best Picture winner…?  Sure, why not?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Patton – 1970

Patton was a difficult movie for me to watch for two reasons.  I can’t claim that it was a bad movie, by any means.  It was good.  It was well made and entertaining.  The acting was good.  George C. Scott and Karl Malden both did a superb job.  The production values were high, there was plenty of fast paced action, and a plot with substance.  But first and foremost, it was a war film about World War II, which is generally not my favorite kind of movie to watch.  Second, it was about a man who, right from the famous opening scene of Patton giving his “Pep-talk” in front of the giant American flag, was portrayed as a red-neck, over-the-top, ultra-military asshole – a character who I had a tough time liking.

But I think the movie actually did its job.  It never claimed that Patton, fantastically played by George C. Scott, was supposed to be a likeable character.  The really amazing thing about the film was that by the end I really understood what it was trying to say.  It can be summed up in one statement:  Many great military leaders like General George S. Patton ARE assholes that treat most people like the dirt on the bottoms of their shoes, but in times of war, they are exactly what are needed to keep our nation safe and give us victory over those who would destroy us.

You see, despite the fact that he was hard, inflexible, and often demanded the impossible from the soldiers under him, he was also a brilliant field commander.  To his credit, when he placed his men on the front lines of battle, when he forced them to march without food or rest in horrible conditions, he was usually right there with them, enduring everything right along with them.

Scott portrayed him as being as tough as nails, as tough as any of his soldiers.  This earned him the respect and unfailing loyalty of those who served under him, despite the fact that his tactics often got a lot of men killed, earning him the name of Blood & Guts Patton.  However, in then end the soldiers saw that he save more men than he sacrificed.  Add to that the fact that he continually gave them victory after victory, and it was easy to see why he was so incredibly popular with the troops.

The film also portrayed General Patton as a man who’s red-neck attitudes and big mouth often got him into trouble.  There was one scene in particular by which I was actually incensed.  In this scene, Patton is visiting a field hospital tent and praising the wounded and dying men for their courage and sacrifices.  But then he finds a soldier who has had a mental break-down and is simply too terrified to return to the battle.  Patton calls him a coward, among other things, loses control of himself, slaps the poor man, and shouts orders that the man be taken back to the front line immediately where he is sure to be killed.  Then he goes even further, screaming that there is no place for cowards in his army, reaching for his gun, and threatening to execute the man on the spot for his despicable behavior.

Needless to say, the incident gets him removed from his command.

Another layer to Patton’s character that the film spends considerable time acknowledging, is an interesting one.  He apparently believed very strongly in reincarnation.  He believed that he had also been a military leader in several past lives.  During conversations with others concerning historical wars, he would claim that he had actually been at those ancient battles.  Most people would laugh such boasting off as some kind of a joke, but he was portrayed as a firm believer in what he was saying.  A little time was also devoted to portraying him as a self-styled poet.

All this is very well and good.  But like any historical drama, I had to do a little research and find out how historically accurate was the character portrayed.  Did the scriptwriters, Francis Ford Coppola and Edmund H. North, get it right?  I think that if a film is about a historical event or figure, there is a certain amount of accountability as to accuracy.

Interesting note: George C. Scott certainly had the right look in the face.  He looked amazingly like the real Patton.  However, Scott’s low, gravelly voice was quite different than Patton’s voice, which was high-pitched and nasal.

The actual movements of Patton, his military campaigns and such were all very accurate.  The personality was also pretty spot-on, except that he was actually tamed-down for the film.  He was known for his use of “foul language” when such language would be effective, though most of the curse words were removed for the movie.  The slapping incident was also notable because he actually slapped two different men on separate occasions.  His military brilliance was covered very well, and they certainly pulled no punches regarding the punishments he endured because of his big mouth.  My research also uncovered the truth regarding Patton’s strong belief in reincarnation.

As a matter of fact, Director Franklin J. Schaffner seemed to go out of his way to include as much historical detail as he could.  The over-sized markers on Pattons jeep, the correct medals worn in the opening sequence, the costumes, the ivory-handled gun he wore, the dates, the locations, the battles: it was all there, just like the history books say.  I must admit that the attention given to all these details was pretty impressive.

Another actor in the film that is worthy of note is Siegfried Rauch who played Captain Oskar Steiger of the Third Reich.  He is a member of the Nazi High Command who studies Patton, trying to anticipate him, and at the last, as the Germans are losing the war, he is seen burning all the Reich’s paperwork, including a photograph of the man who bested him, General George S. Patton.  I personally thought Rauch did a great job with his relatively small part.

And lest I forget, Karl Malden was also an integral part of the story.  He played General Omar Bradley.  At first he was Patton’s subordinate, but because of Patton’s disfavor with Eisenhower over the slapping incident, he advanced in rank and became Patton’s commanding officer.  He was also Patton’s friend and was able to manage the man more than most.  Malden did a very good job, tempering his frustration with Patton’s mouth with admiration for his obvious skills as a military leader and tactician.  One of Bradley’s best lines in the film was, “There’s one big difference between you and me, George.  I do this job because I’ve been trained to do it.  You do it because you LOVE it.”

And that leads me to one final part of Patton’s personality that this film got right: his ego.  At one point the character even admitted he was a prima-donna.  He loved the glory that came along with being victorious.  He had a habit of upsetting his superiors by going out of his way to be recognized for his military feats.  And I think that as much as he loved the world watching him in his spotlight, he loved seeing himself in that same spotlight.  He fervently believed that he was better than everyone else and that he truly deserved to be in command of other men.  Just one more thing that made him an unpleasant person, and yet exactly what the Army and, indeed, the nation, if not the world, needed at that time in history.  It is what made him a true American hero.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Midnight Cowboy – 1969

This was a strange movie.  Several people had told me how it was such a great and depressing movie, and it certainly had its depressing elements.  But I think that maybe I had so prepared myself to watch a super depressing film, that when the tragedy occurred, I just wasn’t as moved as I should have been.

It is interesting to note that this is the only X-rated movie to ever win Best Picture.  The rating was not due to the film’s sexual content (though there were plenty of bare breasts being shown during the intense sex scenes), but its homosexual content.   You see, the plot was about a young man from Texas who packs up and goes to New York to become a male prostitute.  John Voight plays Joe Buck, our handsome young hustler.  The problem, though, is that he isn’t too bright.  He quickly runs through all of his cash and becomes homeless.

Having come from Texas, Joe has a self-image that combines John Wayne and Gene Autry.  He always dressed in his costume, consisting of black cowboy boots, tight pants, flashy rodeo style shirts, a western jacket with lots of fringe, and a big Stetson cowboy hat.  He got a special kick out of looking at himself in the mirror.  But whenever anyone asked him if he was really a cowboy, he said, “Well, I’m not really a cowboy, but I’m one hell of a stud.”  At several points, to earn money he had to have sex with men.  Executives at United Artist consulted with a psychologist, and were told that the film’s homosexual content could have a possible influence upon youngsters.  Thus we have an X-rated movie.

A crippled con man and petty thief named Enrico “Ratzo” Rizzo, played by Dustin Hoffman, swindles Joe out of some money.  Then later on, in penance, he invites Joe to stay with him in a condemned building.  The two become “business partners” and then friends.  As winter arrives, Joe’s career as a prostitute finally starts to take off, while Ratzo’s health fails.

But there is a fairly extensive back story for Joe that is told in flashbacks.  Director John Schlesinger used a strange but effective way of showing those flashbacks.  A quick series of broken, random images are thrown up on to the screen.  Some of them are in focus while others are not.  Some of the images show bits of action and others show still shots.  Some were shown in black and white while others were in color.  Those barrages of stream-of-consciousness images were only shown when the character was reflecting, dreaming, day-dreaming, or high on hallucinogens.

However, these sequences were remarkably effective, showing how Joe and his girlfriend, Crazy Annie, were found having sex.  They were ostracized by the community, and later gang raped by a group of men.  Even Joe was sodomized by the culprits.  Afterword, Annie was sent to an asylum while Joe joined the Army.  We also learn more of Joe’s earlier childhood, how his mother abandoned him and his inattentive grandmother raised him.  Ratzo’s little bit of back story is told in simple exposition when he talks to Joe.

Both Hoffman and Voight did a good job in this film.  Though I have never been a big fan of either actor, I must admit that Voight pulled off pretty and stupid quite convincingly.  Hoffman did a good job as the con-man, however, I have seen the 1988 Best Picture winner, Rain Man, and at times, I felt like I was watching the same character; except for the little scene where that famous line from the film is spoken.  “I’m walkin’ here!  I’m walkin’ here!”

Interesting note: Most of the people to whom I have spoken about the movie, claim that the line was completely improvised and off-script.  However, producer Jerome Hellman claims that the cab driver was a paid actor and the line was, in fact, scripted.

Another interesting part of the film is the depiction of the Warhol-esque party to which Joe is invited.  The bright colors, the acid-trip music, and the strange people, all combine to make a very groovy sixties scene.  It very clearly places the movie in that era.  I would even go so far as to say that it is a veritable snapshot of that time in history.

The film had a very gritty and real feel to it.  I think it really captured the squalor of being homeless in New York in the winter.  The dirt and grime on the streets, the broken down and dilapidated condemned building in which the characters lived, the seedy under-belly of the counter-culture which they only touched the edge of, all came together to make a very realistic depiction.

And finally, one of the things that I really liked about the film was the ending.  I understand that the end of the movie is what causes everyone to say that it was a depressing movie.  But I felt that it was an appropriate ending for a number of reasons.

First, Ratzo’s death was inevitable.  They started showing that he was getting sick pretty early on in the film so it didn’t come as a surprise when it happened.  As a small time con man and petty thief, he would naturally have an aversion to going to the police or the hospital for any reason.  So, when Joe tells him that he is going to get a doctor, it was within his character to refuse.

Second, by the end of the story, Joe had finally started to grow up.  He had given up his dreams of being a street hustler.  But the real tragedy of the plot was that it was too little, too late.  You see, it is clear that the only reason the two friends stayed in New York as long as they did was so that Joe could continue hustling.  It wasn’t until it became evident that Ratzo was dying, that Joe realized that his friendship with him was more important than his questionable career, and they headed for Florida.  But by then it was too late.  If they had gone earlier, there may have been time for his health to improve.

In essence, don’t get thrown off by the X-rating.  This was definitely a drama.  In retrospect, I think it might even be categorized as a coming-of-age drama.  Joe grows from being a naïve boy from Texas with skewed dreams of self-gratification and success, to a man who has known friendship and loss.  It is very telling that as he finally makes this transition, he buys new clothes that are more befitting a man who is not trying to live out a fantasy, and throws away the cowboy costume, boots and all.

The movie only won three academy awards:  Best Picture, Best Director (Schlesinger), and Best Adapted Screenplay.  Both Hoffman and Voight were nominated for Best Actor, though neither of them took home the Oscar.

Interesting note:  Sylvia Miles played the role of Cass, a hooker that actually ends up taking money from Joe when he is trying to hustle her.  Though she only had about five minutes of screen time, she was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, one of the shortest performances ever to be nominated for the category.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oliver! – 1968

“Please, sir, I want some more.” That is the famous line from this Best Picture winner. Oliver! is the story of an orphan on the streets of London, based on the Charles Dickens novel Oliver Twist. It was nominated for eleven Awards and won six. Besides Best Picture, it took home Oscars for Best Director (Carol Reed), Best Adaptation Score, Best Art Direction, Best Sound, and a special Academy Award for Choreography.

I guess I have to make a big admission before I go any further. I have never been a fan of children singing. Unfortunately, seventy percent of this film is just that. I went into watching it with a closed mind. For some reason, I was determined not to like the movie. I sat down to watch it, telling myself that it would all be over in two hours.

But watch it I did. And you know, it wasn’t as bad as I had been expecting. I still don’t care for children singing or boy sopranos. But darn it if the songs weren’t so catchy that I found myself humming them for the next several days. Grudgingly, I had to admit that the musical had done its job, and done it well. Not only was the music good, but the choreography was especially well executed. The cast of extras included probably around seventy or eighty young children who’s precision in the complex dance moves was pretty impressive.

The title role of Oliver Twist was played by a ten year old boy named Mark Lester, who I have to admit, was a very attractive child. He had beautiful blond hair and an angelic face. He also had a thousand watt smile that must have dazzled the casting director. His acting was passable, though it is a rare thing to find a child actor who does not act like a child actor.

Interesting note: As perfect as he looked, apparently, he couldn’t sing to save his life. He was dubbed by Kathe Green, the daughter of Johnny Green, the musical director. The confusing thing, though, is the fact that this fact was not made public until 1988. However, I found it painfully obvious that he was dubbed even before confirming the fact in my research.

Another interesting note: Even though the role of Oliver Twist was the title role of the movie, Mark Lester was nominated for Best Supporting Actor, though he did not win.

Playing the fun role of the Artful Dodger, was a young man named Jack Wild. I was actually pretty impressed with his performance. Not only were his dance moves performed like a pro, he also did, in my opinion, a better job as a young actor than Mark Lester. He was jolly well cheeky, something that I usually find particularly annoying from child actors, but with him, and within the context of the plot, it was completely appropriate. He pulled it off well without making me want to roll my eyes.

Then, there were the adult actors. There were three that were really worth mentioning and one to whom I will give an honorable mention. The first of the three was Ron Moody as the slick and despicable criminal Fagin, who takes in young boys off the streets of London and teaches them to be a gang of pick-pockets. Moody was fun to watch, even though he was clearly an evil man, looking out for nobody but himself. His comical song, Reviewing the Situation, was really quite funny.

Playing opposite him as the dangerous and violent thief, Bill Sykes, was Oliver Reed. I thought I had only seen Oliver Reed in one other film role, and that was the sleazy step-father in The Who’s Tommy. He was sleazy then and he was sleazy in Oliver! But I found that he had a long list of films under his belt, not the least of which was the 2000 Best Picture winner, Gladiator. Judging by his performance in Tommy, I can only imagine that Reed is not the best singer. But instead of dubbing his voice in the songs, the decision was made to simply cut his two songs when adapting the stage show for the silver screen.

The third actor that caught my attention was Harry Secombe as Mr. Bumble, the man who runs the workhouse in which Oliver utters that famous line, “Please, sir, I want some more.” Apparently just asking the question is enough to get a boy kicked out of the workhouse and sold into virtual slavery to anyone willing to buy him. But as Mr. Bumble tries to sell the lad, he sings the song Boy For Sale. His clear tenor voice caught my attention, as did his somber visage as he led Oliver through the snowy streets.

The honorable mention I eluded to earlier is really the only prominent female member of the cast. Shani Wallis played the part of Nancy, Bill Sykes’ girlfriend. Her character was actually pretty pitiful, when examined with a cold eye. Her self-esteem and self-worth are so low that she literally convinces herself that she is happy with her life of poverty, being the girlfriend of a dangerous thief who treats her like garbage. That is, until act two, where she finally finds the courage to defy him in order to help Oliver. Unfortunately, this quickly gets her killed off. Sorry, Nancy.

When it really comes down to it, though, the biggest star of the film was the music. Lionel Bart wrote a score full of memorable songs that, despite having never seen the show, I somehow already knew and liked. Songs like Food, Glorious Food, Consider Yourself, Pick a Pocket or Two, It’s A Fine Life, I’d Do Anything, Who Will Buy, and Oom-Pah-Pah. Their melodies stick in the brain and linger there, playing their tune whether you know the words or not. And even the music I didn’t know was good music to listen to.

With one exception… There is one song in the show that I never liked. Not because it was badly written or even because it was sung by a boy soprano (Or in this case, a little girl.) The song Where is Love has always annoyed me because it is deliberately sappy and sickeningly sweet. For me, it was like overkill on the cute. The darling little ten-year-old orphan boy is singing a nobody-loves-me song as he is imprisoned in a dark and cold basement all alone. Boo-hoo!!! And who else is there to blame for this except Lionel Bart?

The sets and costumes were, both authentic and appropriately filthy dirty, displaying the squalor of the young orphan boys in the workhouse, and the street rats and pick-pockets of London. That being said, though, Hollywood dipped its pristine little finger into the pie and made everyone from the peasants to the gentry beautiful. Even the poor drunkards at the tavern where Nancy works are attractive under their dirt make-up. I may not have cared for the film Tom Jones, but at least they got that part right. Their poor and wretched peasants were not the prettiest lot.

As much as I wanted to find flaws with Oliver, I couldn’t find enough to call it a bad movie. Its good qualities were enough to overcome my pre-conceived notions about how sappy and horrible a show it would be. I guess you could say I liked it despite myself, and that’s saying a lot. It is like the little musical that could, and in the end it earned my respect. Well done, Oliver!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Heat of the Night – 1967

OK, it is time to come back down to reality.  Over the last decade, starting with West Side Story, pretty much every Best Picture winner has been a break away from modern reality.  What else did we have?  Lawrence of Arabia, Tom Jones, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, and A Man For All Seasons.  Period pieces and musicals.  But In the Heat of the Night was different.  This one took place in the 1960s, when the film was made and released.  It was gritty and real and down to earth.  It starred Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger, who you may remember did a fantastic job in a supporting role in On the Waterfront.

Poitier was the biggest African American movie star at the time, having been in other hits such as Blackboard Jungle, Porgy and Bess, A Raisin in the Sun, Lillies of the Field, A Patch of Blue, and To Sir, With Love.  This is significant because the Civil Rights movement was still in full swing.  Martin Luther King Jr. was still giving speeches and the attitudes of many of Americans were changing for the better.  And something very important happened in this film – something that was handled so appropriately that it had a major impact on the Civil Rights movement.  It has been called the “Slap Heard Round the World.”

Here’s the set-up: Poitier plays Virgil Tibbs, an expert homicide detective from Philadelphia.  He is visiting his mother in Mississippi and must wait for a train in Sparta.  However, while he is waiting, a murder takes place in Sparta and he is arrested without even the benefit of being questioned.  So, right from the very beginning, I began to understand that while this film was a murder mystery, it was even more a film about extreme prejudice in the South.  Tibbs’ false arrest makes the attitudes of the southern police officers quite clear.  To them, the color of the man’s skin determined his guilt.  Fortunately, Police Chief Bill Gillespie has the brains to at least find out who he is before throwing him in a cell.

Upon learning that Tibbs is actually a very intelligent, well educated, and highly skilled homicide detective, he ends up recruiting him to help solve the murder.  Several suspects are brought in and several conclusions are drawn.  Gillespie and his men are ready to charge anyone who might even appear guilty and close the case.  Tibbs, though, is a professional and is able to disprove the false accusations.  Each time he does so, he puts on display the stupidity and prejudice of the white officers, proving that a black man can be smarter than they.  For this, Gillespie tries to take any and every opportunity to get Tibbs to leave town, only to turn around and make him stay when he realizes that he needs him to solve the crime.

At one point in the investigation Gillespie and Tibbs must go to no less than a cotton plantation owned by a white racist who might have a motive to commit the murder.  Here is where the audiences of 1967 must have gasped as their jaws dropped to the floor.  After learning that he is being questioned as a suspect in the murder case by a black investigator, the plantation owner, Eric Endicot, played by Larry Gates, treats Tibbs like he treats all his black plantation cotton pickers.  He slaps him across the face.  But Tibbs is not one of his glorified slaves.  Without hesitation, he slaps the white plantation owner back.

By today’s standards, this might not seem like a huge deal, but in 1967 it was pretty major.  To have a black man strike a white man in retaliation to blatant racism was not just one actor smacking another actor, even though the character had clearly been provoked.  It was a blow for any African American who was ever treated as less than any white man.  It was a victory that was the first of its kind and was very relevant to the social climate of the nation.

Endicot’s shocked and horrified reaction was also very telling of some social attitudes of the day.  He asked Gillespie if he saw what had happened, to which Gillespie replied that he had.  “So, what are you going to do about it?”  Steiger was perfect in his answer, saying, “I don’t know.”  Then Endicot said something about how it wasn’t too long ago when he could have had Tibbs shot for what he had just done.  Then after the two men left, Endicot nearly broke down in tears, not in shame for his behavior, but because he is seeing the end of his racist way of life.

Interesting note:  There is actually some small dispute over how the slap made its way into the film, as it was not in the original book on which the film is based.  Poitier says it was put into the film under his instance.  However, researcher Mark Harris says that the slap was actually already in Stirling Silliphant’s original screenplay.

I also found it very profound that, after Gillespie and Tibbs leave the plantation, Tibbs is so angry that he is almost ready to accuse Endicot of the murder and wants time to obtain the evidence needed to bring the fat cat down with a vengeance.  Again, Steiger’s portrayal of Gillespie’s reaction was priceless.  He said something like, “Well, it seems you are just like us,” making Tibbs realize that prejudice is not just a white man’s affliction.

It was all pretty powerful stuff, and the murder mystery was cool to follow as well.  Aside from the important social significance of the film, Steiger and Poitier turned in some great performances.  In fact, Steiger won an Academy Award for Best Actor, and I think he really deserved it.  His character believably transformed from an ignorant bigot to someone who at least respected a black man enough to consider him an equal, possibly even a friend.  And what made it all the more believable was the fact that in the end, he wasn’t a head over heels convert.  He was clearly still uncomfortable with his newly enlightened attitudes.  But he was able to at least stretch beyond his comfort zones, actually shake Tibbs’ hand, and wish him well.

Poitier also did a great job.  He seemed very at ease in front of the camera.  His lines were delivered with a wonderful confidence and gravity that did a great job of pulling the audience into the story, making you experience his troubles along with him.  I was offended for Tibbs by the blatant stupidity and phenomenal prejudice of Gillespie and his officers, which, I think, was the point.

Of course, as is usually the case, when a famous quote from a film is put into the context of the plot, it makes so much more of an impact.  The famous line, “They call me MISTER Tibbs!” is actually a pretty profound statement.  The white police Chief, Gillespie, is yelling at him, sarcastically saying, “What do they call you up there in Philadelphia, boy?”  His response really emphasizes the word MISTER.  In other words – I am your equal!

Interesting note:  During the filming, Poitier refused to do any filming south of the Mason-Dixon Line, out of fear for his physical safety.  Apparently, that’s how dangerous it was for African American’s in the South in the 60s.  So the film was shot in Sparta Illinois.  They only used the name of Sparta in the film because the name of the town appeared all over the filming locations.  However, I found it interesting that there actually is a town of Sparta in Mississippi.

And finally, I have to give two thumbs up to director Norman Jewison for having the courage to make a film with such an anti-racist message in a very volatile time in our nation’s history.  Well done, Norman!  His movie had a powerful message along with a positive agenda which came across loud and clear.  This was a very good movie, well deserving of the Best Picture Award.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Man For All Seasons – 1966

I liked this movie.  It was a period piece done right.  The plot is centered around Sir Thomas More and his opposition to King Henry VIII and his divorce from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon.  Paul Scofield played the lead role of Thomas More, though he had not been the first choice to do so.  The part had originally been offered to two other notable actors, Richard Burton and Lawrence Olivier.  However, since Scofield had done it on Broadway, director, Fred Zinnemann demanded that he also do the movie.  It was a good thing he got his way, as Scofield won the Academy Award for Best Actor.  And he truly did a fantastic job.

So, here is the brief history lesson, as told by the original play’s author, Robert Bolt, to set up the plot.  King Henry VIII needed a legitimate heir to the throne of England.  Unfortunately, his wife, Catherine of Aragon, was barren, and Henry’s attentions turned to one of her handmaids, Anne Boelyn.  In order to marry Anne, he needed a divorce from Catherine.  However, his divorce was not exactly legal.  He needed to Pope’s permission to have it done.  Sir Thomas More was, at the time, a member of the Privy Council, and the only member to oppose the divorce.  You see, More was a very religious man who was of the opinion that since God had joined them in marriage, it was not man’s place to pull them apart.  Marriage was forever, like it or not.

More was a man of unbreakable character and principles.  He remained true to the convictions of his heart, even unto the chopping block where he was beheaded.  He was able to go that distance because he believed with all his heart that he was right, and that God would judge the rightness of his actions in the end.  And when his opposition to the King got him in trouble, he believed that his silence on the subject would protect him.

So, he kept his silence though the whole world tried to persuade him to just conform, to go along with the King’s divorce, to betray his own principles just once.  But it was a door he refused to open.  He had the letter of the law on his side that said that the king could not legally harm him, physically, as long as he would say nothing against the divorce.  So he used his words cleverly, never once slipping, never incriminating himself, never giving the King and his lawyers the legal recourse to put him to death.  They put him in prison, deprived him of everything he had ever known or loved, including the comfort of his family.  That is, until they allowed him to see his wife, daughter, and son-in-law.  But even then, the brief visit was for the sole purpose of persuading him to give up his fight.

But still, he refused.

Scofield really turned in a powerful performance.  The quiet despair and dignity with which he endured his personal tragedy, his march into martyrdom, was truly inspired.  The heart wrenching scene where his family is sent to him was particularly well done.  Scofield’s performance was honest and believable, demanding respect and attention from the audience.

And Scofiled was not the only outstanding member of the cast.  Wendy Hiller played More’s wife, Alice, who could see her husband’s descent to his doom, but who could do nothing to stop it.  And yet it was that very quality which led him to his death that made her love him all the more.  Susannah York, played his daughter Margaret.  You may remember her from her role in the campy farce Tom Jones, but here she really got to shine in a serious and powerful dramatic role.  She was gorgeous and her character really showed some emotional depth.

But of all the rest of the cast, the one who really caught my attention was Robert Shaw as King Henry VIII.  He was incredibly fascinating to watch, and though he did not win, he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor.  His portrayal of the spoiled and, yes, even childish monarch was captivating.  He seemed to draw my attention, making me focus on him.  He threw terrific and believable tantrums when he was angry or when he thought they would get him what he wanted, and was able to turn them off like a light for dramatic effect.

Another member of the cast who I have to mention was John Hurt.  He played the part of Richard Rich, and it was his first major role.  He did a great job, even though he played a despicable character.  He was the one who really betrayed More in the end.  Not knowing the story or the actual historical events, I didn’t see it coming.  I didn’t realize how low he would sink, though it was completely true to the character.

But it was Leo McKern, playing the part of Thomas Cromwell, a member of Henry’s court and More’s primary prosecutor that was really the bad guy.  From the very beginning he was made out to be ambitious and conniving.  He is clearly jealous of More’s friendship with the King, his popularity with the people, his status and position, and I think even his pious nature.  Since he clearly had none of these qualities, he went out of his way to destroy More.  McKern made it easy to despise the character.

Interesting note:  Speaking of cast members, Vanessa Redgrave was originally offered the role of Margaret, though she had to turn it down due to other commitments.  However, she did end up playing the cameo role of Anne Boelyn on the condition that she not be billed in the part nor mentioned in the previews.  She did this purely for the fun of it and refused to accept any money for her performance.

Aside from a few minor changes that one might expect from a play that is adapted into a film, the movie remained true to Robert Bolt’s original script.  One of the changes is in regards to the bits of information that were given about the surviving characters.  In the film, the following is revealed at the end, via a narrated voice-over:  “Thomas More’s head was stuck on Traitor’s Gate for a month.  Then his daughter, Margaret, removed it and kept it ‘til her death.  Cromwell was beheaded for high treason five years after More.  The Archbishop was burned at the stake.  The Duke of Norfolk should have been executed for high treason but the King died of syphilis the night before.  Richard Rich became Chancellor of England and died in his bed.”

All of which goes to show that the plot was, in this respect, very realistic.  Some people are punished for their crimes against their fellow men, while others are not.  The film was a wonderful depiction of this simplistic, yet unfortunate idiom.

Interesting note:  Bolt borrowed the title from Robert Whittington, a contemporary of More, who wrote in 1520, “More is a man of angel’s wit and singular learning.  I know not his fellow.  For where is the man of that gentleness lowliness and affability?  And, as time requireth, a man of marvelous mirth and pastimes, and sometimes of as sad gravity.  A man for all seasons.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sound of Music – 1965

As musicals go, this was a great one.  Anybody who likes the genre holds a special place for it in their heart.  Julie Andrews was fantastic as the leading heroine, Maria.  Christopher Plummer was wonderful as Captain von Trapp.  The seven interchangeable children were fun to watch with a special nod to Charmain Carr as Liesl.  Even Baroness von Schraeder turned in an especially good performance.  I also have to give two thumbs up to Peggy Wood as Mother Abbess and Daniel Truhitte as Rolfe.  All this is to say, right off the bat, that the movie was incredibly well cast.

And, of course, the musical score itself was a major component of the production.  I would venture to say that it is one of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most beloved musicals, and that is saying a lot.  It is a feel-good show.  The good guys win, the bad guys are thwarted, and love conquers all.  What’s not to love?

Most of the movie was filmed on location in Salzburg, giving the film a very authentic look and feel.  Right from the very beginning, as Maria is wandering in the hills that were apparently alive with sound of music, we see her has a young woman who is bubbling over with joy existing for its own sake.  She is youthful and beautiful, and she has a lust for life that unfortunately makes her a problem for the quiet and sedate abbey where she resides.  Her fellow nuns are forced to ask “How do you solve a problem like Maria?”

The answer?  Get her married off to a handsome Captain with seven kids.  Problem solved.

Fortunately, the kids display talents for singing, dancing, and puppetry that impress everyone.  But then those pesky Nazis show up and ruin the party.  In the end, the family must escape over the Alps on foot.  Simple plot, right?  But that is its beauty.  It is predictable, but not boring.  You still get worried for them when they are fleeing the Nazis, even though you know they will escape.  You are still creeped-out when the handsome young German courier shows himself to be a true member of the Third Reich by nearly murdering Captain von Trapp, even thou you know he won‘t.

When it comes down to it, it is just a fun show, because before the Nazis become the prominent plot element, we have some of the most fabulous and memorable Broadway show-tunes ever written, the biggest being Do-Re-Mi.  The song has a remarkably simple and repetitive melody.  In musical terms, it uses a device called melodic sequencing which is a single phrase, repeated in different keys.  It is what makes the song so easy to remember and pleasant to hear.  Other songs like My Favorite Things, Edelweiss, So Long, Farewell, Climb Every Mountain, and The Lonely Goatherd, are also wonderful and fun to sing along with.

Interesting note:  The Hollywood Bowl in Hollywood, California has had a sold out Sound of Music sing-along every year since 2005.  They show the movie with the song lyrics clearly displayed on the bottom of the screen so the audience can participate.  It has been called by some, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show on Prozac.”

The show was nominated for ten Academy Awards, winning five of them, one of which was a Best Director Oscar for Robert Weiss.  Julie Andrews and Peggy Wood were both nominated for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, respectively, though neither of them won.  However, not everybody loved the movie when it was first released.  One critic, Pauline Kael, was quoted, calling it, “the sugar-coated lie people seem to want to eat.”  Further more, she even went so far as to say, “We have been turned into emotional and aesthetic imbeciles when we hear ourselves humming the sickly goody-goody songs.”  But it seems to me that she missed the point.  The fact that we hear ourselves humming the tunes at all is a testament to the high quality of the music.  (Apparently these negative comments got Pauline Kael dismissed from her job at McCall’s magazine.)

But I have to admit, her comments were not completely without merit.  There were actually quite a few historical inaccuracies in the musical.  The stage show was based on the memoirs of Maria von Trapp, one of the children who‘s name was changed to Louisa in the film; however, the inaccuracies cannot be blamed on the von Trapps.  The family had given up the rights to their story to a German producer in the 1950s, who then sold them to American producers.  The von Trapps had little, if any, input into the subsequent musical and film.

So, here is a little history lesson.  First of all, I must say that these few things I am mentioning were all found on Wikipedia, where I find most of my dirty little secrets and Interesting Notes.  Second, these are just the highlights of what my research uncovered.

Apparently, the real von Trapp family lived in a modest home, not the grand mansion portrayed in the film.  Georg von Trapp was actually a very poor man, having lost the fortune he inherited from his first wife in an unwise business decision.  When Maria married Georg, it was for simple practicality and convenience, not love.  He needed a mother for his children, and she needed the security of a husband and family.  Eventually, they grew to love each other.  They were married in 1927, over a decade before the Nazi Anschluss (the German occupation of Austria) even took place.  Georg was actually a doting and loving father, contrary to his character in the film.  It was the step-mother, Maria, who was moody and prone to outbursts of manic rage.  Georg was never in serious danger of arrested by the Nazis.

And finally, the family never escaped Austria by hiking over the Alps into Switzerland.  This would have been impossible since Salzburg is only a few kilometers away from the Austrian/German border and is much too far from the Swiss or Italian borders for the family to reach by walking.  In fact, a hike over the mountain from Salzburg would put them in the German town of Berchesgaden, and virtually within sight of Adolf Hitler’s vacation cottage at Oberssalzberg.  No, they walked to the train station and left Austria quite easily.

OK, that is enough for the history lesson.

The way I see it, it was still a great musical, and a wonderful movie.  I don’t need to know the real historical events to enjoy the “fictional” story presented by Rogers & Hammerstein.  They wrote a great score full of music that is fun to listen to and easy to remember.  Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer were a delight to see and hear.  The children were charming and the cinematography was beautiful.

Interesting note:  The opening sequence of Maria running through the hills with her arms spread wide was a difficult one to film.  The shot was done using a helicopter that flew over the mountains and zoomed in on Ms. Andrews.  Apparently, the violent winds created by the whirling blades of the helicopter kept knocking the actress down over and over again.

And lastly, I have to give a special mention to Eleanor Parker, who played Baroness Schraeder.  Two scenes in particular showed-off her skills as an actress.  The first is the scene in which she, in a very devious, and yet dignified way, convinces Maria to return to the abbey.  The second is the scene after Maria returns and she gracefully admits defeat, even going so far as to encourage Maria to go to Georg.  Well done, Eleanor!

So, I guess my best advice in regards to The Sound of Music is to take off your thinking-caps and just enjoy the show.  You’ll be glad you did!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Fair Lady – 1964

My Fair Lady succeeded where Gigi failed. I’m sorry to say it, but it was, in so many ways, a better film. The plot, the acting, the music, the choreography: all better. Here’s why.

First of all, let’s look at the plot. It is common knowledge among those who love musicals (like me) that My Fair Lady was based on a play called Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw, which in itself was based on an ancient Greek myth known by the same name. Pygmalion was a sculptor who fell in love with his sculpture. Shaw turned the myth into a play in which a phonetics professor named Henry Higgins transforms (or sculpts) a common flower girl named Eliza Doolittle into a lady who could pass herself off as a duchess by teaching her how to speak and behave in a more genteel manner. The story is quite different than its Greek origins, but one aspect remains true. Though the professor is supremely arrogant and misogynistic, and a confirmed old bachelor by choice, he ends up falling in love with Eliza, just as Pygmalion did with his sculpture.

That, of course is the short version. It is much more complex than that, which brings me to the acting. The acting was first-rate. Rex Harrison plays the part of Professor Henry Higgins. His character could so easily be very one-dimensional, but Harrison does a great job of bringing out a personality that goes beyond the jerk that so often mistreats the poor flower girl. True, he is that person, but on more than one occasion, he shows a softer side that makes him strangely endearing.

Audrey Hepburn is played Eliza Doolittle, and she was absolutely superb. She is beautiful, and wonderful to watch. She easily passed herself off as both the poor and uneducated flower girl, and the regal and self-assured lady of high society. She was neither a dancer, nor a singer (we’ll get to that in a minute…) but she was a fantastic actress, handling the comedy and the drama with equal skill. However, I was actually surprised to learn that she wasn’t even nominated for Best Actress.

Other notable members of the cast were Stanley Holloway as Eliza’s father, Alfred Doolittle, a common dustman, Gladys Cooper as Henry’s mother, Mrs. Higgins, Mona Washbourne as Mrs. Pierce, Higgin’s housekeeper, and in a fairly minor role, Theodore Bikel as Zoltan Karpathy, Higgins’ sleazy ex-student. Bikel didn’t have much screen time, but he was fun to watch. And lest I forget, Jeremy Brett as Freddy Eynsford-Hill, a young fop who falls hopelessly in love with Eliza.

That’s important because here’s the catch about the plot. There has been some controversy regarding the ending. In the film, Eliza finally finds her independence, realizes that Henry really does care for her, and returns to him. In Shaw’s play, she finds her independence, leaves Henry and marries Freddy. The analogy to the Greek myth is that the sculpture finally comes to life and is able to love Pygmalion or not as she chooses. Shaw insisted that she does not. Lerner and Lowe, who wrote the musical, gave it a more audience friendly ending.

That brings us to the music. Lerner and Lowe wrote a lot of great songs for the show, songs that have become standards of musical theatre repertoire. Wouldn’t It Be Loverly, With A Little Bit of Luck, I Could Have Danced All Night, Just You Wait, The Rain In Spain, On the Street Where You Live, Show Me, Get Me to the Church On Time, and Without You. These were all great songs. Unfortunately, Audrey Hepburn was not known for her singing. But once again, thank goodness for Marni Nixon, who, you may remember, dubbed much of the singing in West Side Story. She did the same for Hepburn and sounded fantastic.

Interesting note: Hepburn’s own voice was left in for most of the song Just You Wait, as the song was heavily character driven, though on the softer bridge of the song, Nixon once again took over.

The score is gorgeous and romantic. Add to this the incredibly beautiful costumes, for which Cecil Beaton won his own Oscar, and the lavish sets, and you have the makings of a very impressive production. Just the fashions they designed for Hepburn alone were absolutely lovely. Beaton must have had a field day during the Ascot Race sequence. The costumes were all just black and white, but they were each wonderfully unique and utterly fabulous.

Lastly there was the choreography. It all seemed natural. The movements of the actors all seemed organic, which is not easy to do when you are singing. Nothing was awkward or forced.

Being a fan of musicals, I have seen this film many times. There are several scenes which always stand out to me as either fun to watch or heart-wrenching. Sometimes both! For example, the scene in which Mrs. Pierce first takes Eliza to her room to give her a bath. Poor and ignorant Eliza, who has never had a bath in a proper tub, becomes horrified. She has gotten herself in a little over her head. Mrs. Pierce and her maids are made to forcibly remove Eliza’s clothes and have them burned. My heart weeps for Eliza in this scene. She is in a strange house, where strangers are trying to strip her naked, steal her clothing, and dunk her completely in water. She is absolutely frightened and panics. She begins screaming in bloody abject terror as the hot steam of the bath fills the room. For some reason, that scene always makes me feel for her.

Another scene is the hilarious scene at the Ascot Races in which Eliza’s carefully practiced mask of genteel civility slips in a most cataclysmic way. As the horses are running past, she screams at her horse “Com on Dover! Move yer bloomin’ Ass!!!” The lords and ladies are driven to fainting!

There is the magical scene at the Embassy Ball where Eliza has fully become the regal lady she has been training to be. She is so absolutely gorgeous in this scene that the Prince of Transylvania singles her out and asks her to dance. Hepburn is simply wonderful.

Lerner and Lowe’s stage show was a great one to begin with and director, George Cukor did a top-notch job bringing it to the silver screen. I found it interesting that the point of the movie, the moral center, if you will, came down to one statement in the end. Eliza is talking to Mrs. Higgins while Henry is sulking in the background. She profoundly says, “You see Mrs. Higgins, apart from the things one can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated.” Truer words were never spoken.

Interesting note: OK, after all my gushing about how wonderful this movie was, here, I think, is one minor little error. At the end of the film, Professor Higgins has arrived at home, and is ready to unlock his front door. He inserts his key, takes it out, and opens the door. I have to chuckle. He never turned the key to unlock the door. Oops!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tom Jones – 1963

Wow…  I…  I don’t know what to say about this one.  I am utterly confused as to why this one won Best Picture.  On the one hand, it had a few mildly redeeming qualities.  The story was cute and it had a couple of funny moments.  The costumes and sets were actually quite realistic and believable.  But the directing was horrible, the camera work was sadly lacking, the editing was laughable, and the acting was preposterous.  Goodness gracious!  Where do I begin with this wacky, zany, sex farce comedy?!?

Let’s start with the horrible directing.  The director, Tony Richardson, made several choices that made his film appear low-budget and cheesy.  For example, the extensive use of the hand-held camera was disorienting.  Cheese factor 1:  Imagine the scene:  A scandalous woman is leaning against a tree, her blouse barely clinging to her shoulders.  She is attempting to seduce Tom Jones.  The hand-held camera is behind Tom as he approaches the woman, as if we, the viewers, are peeping-toms, trying to get a look over his shoulder at the promiscuous lass.  Then it switches to Tom’s perspective, so in effect, the woman is now seducing the camera, or us, the viewers.  There was actually a lot of that first-person perspective in the film.  During a sword fight, the actor is fighting with the camera, as if he is dueling with the audience.

Cheese factor 2:  Another questionable directing choice was the breaking of the fourth wall.  The actors would sometimes remove themselves from the story and speak directly to the camera, or the viewers, spouting exposition.  I understand that this is done for comedic effect, and it certainly has its place in film-making… but it is a deliberately campy effect.  Best Picture winner?

Cheese factor 3:  The ridiculous Benny Hill sequence.  There was actually a scene in which the volume on the kooky music was turned up and the action on the screen started playing at 4x speed, like at the end of every episode of Benny Hill.  Again, this was done deliberately for comedic effect, but it was just so campy that I question how it was able to win the Best Picture award.

Cheese factor 4:  Snapshot comedy.  There were several scenes in which the varied reactions of characters were shown in snapshots.  The longest example is a scene in which two characters are trying to listen to a conversation through a closed door.  The director used 8 or 10 still snapshots of the two actors, each of which showed different funny reactions to what they were overhearing.  Once more, it was a deliberately campy technique used for comedic effect, and like all the previously mentioned cheese factors, it has its place.

But these things unfortunately have the side-effect of making the film appear to be extremely low-budget and shoddily made.  As I was watching the film I kept hearing the director in my head.  “Uh… what should this shot look like?  Maybe try putting the camera over there.  Yeah!  That looks pretty groovy!”  And one more thing:  From a technical standpoint, it looked like many of the outdoors scenes were filmed on an old home video camera.  The lighting seemed too dark, and actors were often back-lit, obscuring their features.

Another thing that bothered me was the fault of the editor.  Sometimes the dialogue did not seem to match up with the lip movements of the actors.  It was like a badly dubbed Kung-Fu flick.  Was this also a conscious choice?

Now, all that being said, I guess I cannot blame the actors.  They did their jobs and made the movie that the director wanted.  But again, the director did not make characters, so much as caricatures.  They were all over the top and very one-dimensional.  Aaaargh!  I have to keep going back to the fact that it was done on purpose, which was fine for a campy movie!  But then why did it win Best Picture?

I think that three things more need to be considered.  First was the fact that it was the 60’s.  Did audiences really love the idea of such a campy comedy?  Second, what were the other movies that were nominated for Best Picture?  Maybe the pickings were pretty slim.  And third, there were a few things about the movie that were actually very well done.

Alright, what was going on in the 1963?  The Vietnam War was in full swing.  Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary was closed.  Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech.  President Kennedy was assassinated and LBJ was sworn in as President.  So it was a pretty tumultuous year.  One might say that a campy comedy might have been a good way to ease social tensions.

What else was nominated?  America, America, Cleopatra, How the West Was Won, and Lilies of the Field.  Granted, I have not seen any of these films, though I hear that Lilies of the Field was a very good movie.  And you can rarely go wrong with Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra) or the star-studded cast of How the West Was Won.

So what about the good things in Tom Jones?  I have to admit that the costumes and filming locations were spot-on.  They were always very authentic and appropriate.  The wigs were perfect.  Also, the peasants were appropriately wretched.  I’ve seen movies in which the peasantry were all quite attractive under their dirt make-up.  In Tom Jones, they were quite realistic.  Also, the story itself was cute enough and fun to follow.

Tom, himself, played by Albert Finney, was appropriately cast.  The character was supposed to be so attractive that he was irresistible to women.  And I must admit, when he turned on his million-dollar smile, he was absolutely adorable.  Susannah York played Tom’s true love, Sophie Western.  Another few actors who stood out for me were George Devine as Squire Allworthy, (Tom’s adopted father), Joyce Redman as Mrs. Waters/Jenny Jones (Tom’s lover/alleged mother), Edith Evans as Miss Western (Sophie’s crotchety old aunt), Joan Greenwood (Tom’s wealthy lover), and George A. Cooper as Mr. Fitzpatrick (a jealous husband).

OK, one final thing:  The food scene.  There was a scene that was, I guess, supposed to be funny.  Tom and Mrs. Waters are getting ready to have sex.  They are sitting across from each other, eating a large meal consisting of bread, lobster, chicken, oysters, and pears.  As they eat, again, directly to the camera, using that forced first-person perspective, they are growing more and more aroused, as if the piggish chomping and greasy fingers is some kind of foreplay.  But it was actually more disgusting than anything else.  I think it was supposed to be funny, but it went on for far too long and my stomach was starting to turn by the end of it, especially when they got to the pears.  Mrs. Waters practically stuffed hers through her teeth!  Ugh!

I think that this movie’s real problem wasn’t so much that it was a campy comedy, but that it seemed so low budget.  In my opinion, it doesn’t in any way measure up to any of the other winners I’ve seen.  Even movies like Cimarron and The Greatest Show on Earth, which are widely considered the least deserving Best Picture winners, had production values that were far greater than Tom Jones.  Campy comedies are fun to watch, but they can be done better than this.  The movie and the techniques used make the movie and its comedy very dated.  You watch it, and instantly know it is from the 60’s.

I don’t know.  Maybe I just hold a Best Picture winner to a higher standard.