BABY DOLL (1956)
I’ve probably written this before, but,
for me, one of the biggest differences between films of the 1950s, ‘60s and
‘70s and the past couple decades of often disappointing movies is the lack of
familiar faces, who were also pitch-perfect actors, in supporting roles. It
bears repeating following the death of one of the best character actors America
cinema has ever produced, Eli Wallach.
Starting in the 1950s and continuing, for
some, into the 1990s, movies regularly featured such indispensable performers
as Lee J. Cobb, Jack Warden, Martin Balsam, Thelma Ritter, Jason Robards, Julie
Harris, Arthur Hiller, Robert Webber, Richard Jordan, David Clennon, Charles
Durning, Rip Torn, M. Emmet Walsh, Denholm Elliott, Cloris Leachman, Wilford
Brimley and (I have to stop somewhere) William Devane (currently the president
on the TV show “24”). Though some of these actors were occasionally leads, they
spent most of their film and TV careers supporting the stars and made going to
the movies a more enjoyable experience; enlivening even mediocre films,
Wallach, who died last week at age 98—his
last film appearance was in 2010’s “Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps”—didn’t
work in as many top flight pictures as many of those mentioned above, favoring
instead TV and the stage. But more often than not he portrayed a
smarter-than-he looked but rough-around-the-edges antagonist who savored giving
the good guy a hard time.
I
was surprised when checking his filmography to see that he appeared in just two
films in the 1950s, “Baby Doll” and the little-seen crime picture “The Lineup.”
But he worked steadily in TV and then hit it big with his scenery-chewing
performance as the toothy bandit Calvera in “The Magnificent Seven” (1960).
Good roles followed in such films as “The Misfits,” “Lord Jim,” “How to Steal a
Million” and, his most famous, as Tuco in Sergio Leone’s comic Western “The
Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” But, to me, nothing he did on film ever surpassed
his impressive film debut, under director Elia Kazan (both veterans of the
Actor’s Studio) in the still outrageous “Baby Doll.”
Wallach’s Silva Vacarro (this
Brooklyn-born Polish Jew played a lot of Italians and Latinos for some reason)
is clearly the outsider, looking dashing in a suit and tie, when he first
appears in this Tennessee Williams story of white trash cotton farmers. Silva
is putting on the dog for the area farmers, most of whom he’s put out of work
with his giant cotton gin plant. Then the saddest example of humanity in this
Mississippi backwater town, Arthur (played by the magnificent Karl Malden—add
his name to the above list please) sets Vacarro’s cotton gin ablaze.
Vacarro knows who burned his plant and
sets upon his unusual revenge by bringing the fumbling Arthur his cotton to be
processed in his dilapidated gin mill. There he meets “Baby Doll” (blonde
sensation Carroll Baker), Arthur’s teen bride, who is one day away from her 20th
birthday and the agreed upon consummation of their two-year marriage.
The rest of the movie is Wallach’s, as he
brings out both the game-playing fun and devious plotter in this insidious
character, one of Williams’ most vivid. Wallach is a busy actor; his hands and
face are always in movement, but in delicate, precise mannerisms, a subtlety in
creating characters that ensured his longevity in the business.
This being the 1950s, instead of the pair
sleeping together, Vacarro falls asleep in Baby Doll’s crib, (the film is an
overdose of symbolism) but when Arthur returns, he, of course, assumes Vacarro
has had what he’s still waiting on. The true intent is made clear when Baby
Doll suddenly seems to be an adult, remarking, “I feel cool and rested for the
first time in my life.”
Earlier, Wallach delivers the key line in
Williams’ screenplay: “….people come into this world without instructions of
where to go, what to do, so they wander a little…then go away.” The final act
begins with this unlikely trio sitting down for dinner in a comical, but
equally harrowing, version of “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” which is followed
by gunfire.
Fifty years later (seriously), Wallach,
then 91, was still giving memorable performances, including a career-capping
turn as a veteran Hollywood screenwriter in the otherwise pedestrian “Holiday.”
He’s befriended by Kate Winslet’s Iris, a British writer, who is vacationing in
his neighbor’s house. Not only does Arthur Abbott regale her with wonderful anecdotes
from the Golden Era, but he offers Iris some needed life lessons. It’s the most
touching and believable relationship in this second-rate romcom.
But these great performances just touch
the surface of this Method actor’s career and what he, as one of the last of
his generation, brought to the movies.
JERSEY BOYS (2014)
I am second to none in my admiration of
Clint Eastwood, especially his work as a director in the past 10 years, but
this might not have been the right project for him. And I’m not talking about
the fact that this is a musical; few contemporary directors are more musical
attuned—his “Bird” is one of the best musical bios ever made.
Where Eastwood seems a fish out of water
is recreating the Sinatra-loving, mob-protected second generation
Italian-American community that bred the Four Seasons, the subject of this
bittersweet rags-to-riches pop music tale. While he’s no doubt hampered by the
trappings of the highly successful stage musical, the dramatic scenes in the
film come off as Scorsese-lite, a very safe, clean-cut version of the streets
where doo-wop singing and breaking and entering were happening side by side.
The director isn’t helped by performances that rarely rise above caricature and
a script built on clichés.
For those of you who aren’t familiar
with the pop scene in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, the Four Seasons were one
of the most successful and important groups in that strange period between
Elvis and the Beatles. The incredibly high-pitched voice of Frances
Castelluccio (aka Frankie Valli), along with tough guy and group founder Tommy
DeVito, bassist Nick Massi and songwriter extraordinary Bob Gaudio, produced
hit after hit starting in 1962 with “Sherry.” Songs such as “Big Girls Don’t
Cry,” “Walk Like a Man” and later “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” are part of the
soundtrack of our lives for anyone over 50.
How they made it out of Newark makes for
a much more colorful story than the image they presented back in the day; four
clean cut Italian-American kids made good. John Lloyd Young (who played the
role on Broadway) portrays Frankie, a naïve, supremely talented vocalist who
never seems to be enjoying his success. At 39, Young looks way too old to play
the teenage Frankie and his voice, while seeming to hit the same notes as
Valli, has a grating tone that I had a hard time ignoring.
DeVito (Vincent Piazza) is the film’s most
interesting character, a flashy, amoral weasel always looking out for No. 1 who
threatens anyone who might disrupt his position as group leader. His character
and the groups’ “godfather,” played by Christopher Walken, show the continuing
influence that organized crime had in popular music well into the 1960s. The
funniest performance in the film is by Joseph Russo, playing Joe Pesci (yes,
that Joe Pesci), who, as part of the doo-wop scene in Jersey, plays a key role
in the formation of the Four Seasons.
I liked that Eastwood only uses music when
the group is performing, saving the film’s only classic-musical production
number for the final credits. But what I didn’t like was his clumsy use of
first-person narrative; letting each of the “Seasons” tell a bit of the story
from their point of view, speaking directing into the camera. Not only was it
diverting and abrupt, but it did little to illuminate the story. It takes an
exceptional actor, usually a comedian, who can talk to the camera and make it
work. (Coincidentally, one of the screenwriters is Marshall Brickman, who
co-wrote “Annie Hall,” a film that brilliantly utilizes direct to the audience
dialogue, as delivered by Woody Allen.)
Eastwood does his best work when the boys
are on stage, recreating the magic that this astonishing vocal quartet brought
to the music scene in their day. If only he could have extended the urgency of
those musical moments to the rest of the film.
EDGE OF TOMORROW (2014)
It seems like decades since Tom Cruise has
starred in a film that didn’t involve gunfire, which, for someone on the other
side of 50, makes one question his career choices. But, in this case, he’s
landed in a winner.
This near-future sci-fi movie, directed by
Doug Liman, who guided the first “Bourne” and “Fair Game,” might be the best of
its genre that I’ve seen since the 2009 reboot of “Star Trek.” The script,
written by Christopher McQuarrie (“The Usual Suspects”) along with Jez and
John-Henry Butterworth based on Hiroshi Sakurazaka’s novel, presents Cruise’s
character, Major William Cage, as a reluctant warrior/hero, a military desk
jockey suddenly tossed into battle. And not just any battle, but a D-Day-styled
assault on Europe to stop the whirling-dervish, octopus-like aliens called
Mimics.
Cage is killed within minutes of landing
on the beach, but in a “Groundhog’s Day” scenario, he immediately goes back 24
hours to relive it all over again. Not only does he improve his combat skills
(learning where each Mimic will attack him from) as he keeps repeating the
battle, but he get to know the war’s hero, Sgt. Rita Vrataski (a steely Emily
Blunt) when she realizes he could be the key to defeating the aliens.
Cruise delivers just the right amount of
arrogance and confusing as Cage slowly tries to understand his predicament. But
he’s a quick learner as he methodically advances, with Vrataski at his side,
closer to finding the source of the Mimics’ power. Liman shows just enough of
each scene to give us the sense of how Cage is progressing as he goes through
the day over and over again. Yet the director and his writers don’t spell
things out too clearly, forcing viewers to think it all through.
“Edge of Tomorrow” isn’t without its leaps of
reality (especially in the manner in which Cage and Vrataski survive incredible
mayhem), and snippets of predictable sarcastic humor that have become required
in this genre, but the picture also features two believable heroes and a plot
gimmick that works like a finely calibrated timepiece.
TWIXT
(2011)
I believe I recently griped about the high
profile projects Sofia Coppola continues to attract despite her poor track
record, while her legendary father struggles to get films made. Never mind.
Watching Francis Coppola’s sad attempt to
piece together a supernatural mystery—a mixture of David Lynch and Guy Maddin
but not as interesting or other worldly as either of those directors’
works—made it clear why producers might be reluctant to put their money behind
the man who made the iconic “Godfather” films along with “The Conversation” and
“Apocalypse Now.”
Actually, “Twixt,” apparently referring to
being “betwixt” dreams and reality, starts off promising, with Tom Waits,
longtime Coppola favorite, narrating the background about the setting of the
story, Swann Valley. Waits offbeat, sarcastic tone promises something
interesting that never happens.
Val Kilmer plays third-rate writer Hall
Baltimore, whose series of witch books are losing their popularity, evidenced by
his arrival on a “book tour” in this tiny burg. He finds he’ll be autographing
books at the local hardware store, which features a small space for selling
books. No one knows him except the enthusiastic sheriff (Bruce Dern), who has a
great idea for a story that he hopes to collaborate on with Baltimore. Oh, and
by the way, there’s a teenage girl’s body impaled with a stake lying unclaimed
at the morgue.
Baltimore would rather get the hell out
of town, until he has a dream in which a ghostly figure (Elle Fanning) leads
him to a deserted hotel, where, decades ago, a father killed all his children
before they turned into vampires. Now this hack writer is interested. Later,
he’s guided through this dream world by none other than Edgar Allan Poe, who
once stayed in the hotel.
Coppola’s script—from an idea, he has
said, that came to him in a dream—is filled with slight, but amusing literary
references and even some inside Hollywood winks (Kilmer, drinking while attempt
to start the story of this town, does perfect, unexplained, imitations of
Marlon Brando and James Mason while his ex-wife Joanne Whalley plays his wife),
but they can’t make up for the dreary, repetitive story.
It’s not as if the filmmaker/winemaker
has been on the skids for years; his last two pictures, “Tetro” (2009) and
“Youth Without Youth” (2007), were superbly made and fascinating; “Tetro” made
my Top 10 for 2009. But it’s all about box-office and none of his last three
pictures have done much business. I just hope the 76-year-old gets a few more
chances: like few other filmmakers in my lifetime, any time he steps behind the
camera a masterpiece is possible.
THE RAILWAY MAN (2014)
For the most part, this low-keyed British
film is a very familiar examination of a solider dealing with wartime trauma
and the frustrations of those around him trying to help. What distinguishes
this entry in post-war life, especially through its first half, are the quiet,
perfectly measured performances of Colin Firth as Eric Lomax, the former World
War II POW; Nicole Kidman as Patti, the woman he meets years later and marries,
and Stellan Skarsgård as Eric’s wartime buddy Finley, who sees himself as his
brother’s keeper
Both Patti and Finley do their best to pull
Eric out of his funk, which isn’t clearly explained as far as how it has
impacted his life. Though we see he is already stuck in his memories as a
young, returning solider, the film never explains how he’s survived through the
years: did he hold down a job, ever have relationships, seeks out profession
help? When the film introduces him, he’s already in his forties and, most of
the time, just a bit quirky.
The movie, directed by independent
filmmaker Jonathan Teplitzky from a script based on a book by the real Lomax,
picks up steam when it flashes back to the war and a Japanese prisoner of war
camp in Burma where Eric endures torture.
As much I enjoyed the acting of the three
principals—it’s one of Oscar-winner Firth’s finest performances—I think I would
rather have seen a documentary on Eric Lomax and gotten a more fleshed-out
story of his fascinating life. “Railway Man” offers the highlights and feels
too much like a sketch when the story deserves a broader canvas.
FLASH GORDON (1980)
If you didn’t know any better, this sci-fi
adventure, with its guileless acting, cheesy primary-colored sets and
disjointed direction, could pass for a straight-to-video dud. Yet this
adaptation of Alex Raymond’s 1930s comic books—and the movie series that
followed—was a high-profile Dino De Laurentiis production, directed by highly
regarded British filmmaker Mike Hodges (“Get Carter,” “Pulp” and, more recently
“Croupier”) and written by one of the 1970s top screenwriters Lorenzo Semple
Jr., who worked on “Papillion,” “The Parallax View” and “Three Days of the
Condor.” And the supporting roles are filled by a roster of first-rate
international actors.
Despite its status as a cult favorite,
there’s really nothing very memorable about “Flash Gordon”—it’s not as amusing
as the clunky 50s sci-fi B-movies and looks as ancient as a horse and buggy
alongside of “The Empire Strikes Back,” released the same year.
Not sure what happened: certainly hiring
the inexperienced Sam J. Jones, who has worked steadily, if without
distinction, on television since this film, didn’t help. As Hodges later
explained, “Flash Gordon” was “the only improvised $27-million movie ever
made.” Badly improvised, I would add.
Jones, plays Flash, the quarterback for
the New York Jets, who finds himself being hijacked to the planet Mongo along
with a TV actress (a pretty but dull Melody Anderson) and a misunderstood
scientist (Topol, looking very different than he did in “Fiddler on the Roof.”)
There they somehow manage (not very convincingly) to avoid the evil clutches of
Ming the Merciless (a slumming Max von Sydow), mostly because of the efforts of
his vixen daughter (Ornella Muti), who immediately has eyes for hunky Flash.
Eventually, Flash’s never-give-up spirit
convinces rival tribe leaders, played by British stage actors Timothy Dalton
and Brian Blessed to join him in the battle to overthrow Ming. Blessed gives
the film’s most entertaining performance as the constantly amused, Viking-like
Prince Vultan, who is always ready for a fight.
I was reminded of this plodding mess after
seeing “Ted” a few years ago. The characters John and Ted are obsessed with
“Flash Gordon” and Jones’ appearance at a party makes for one of the film’s
hilarious centerpieces. But the actual film is never as funny or clever as
anything in “Ted.”
THE IMMIGRANT (2014)
This story of the arrival of a Polish
woman and her sister at Ellis Island in the 1920s is as predictable as a bad
sitcom. Screenwriters, since before movies had sound, have been penning
heartbreaking stories of pretty immigrants putting their faith in seemingly
helpful men who eventually use them as income sources. “The Immigrant” doesn’t
do much to expand on the cliché.
Bruno (Joaquin Phoenix), who manages a
low-rent burlesque show, “rescues” Ewa (Marion Cotillard) from being deported
and thus separated from her ill sister, only to put her in his show and, while
falling for her, coerces her into working as a prostitute.
After writer-director James Gray’s first,
and most impressive film, “Little Odessa” (1994), about the Russian-Jewish
community of New York starring Tim Roth, he has hitched his wagon, for better
or worse, to Phoenix. The unpredictable actor, costarring with Mark Wahlberg,
in Gray’s “The Yards” (2000) and “We Own the Night” (2007), was miscast in
both, though “The Yards” was a good, if minor, picture. Gray returned to the
quiet intensity of his first film in the underrated “Two Lovers” (2008), with
Phoenix and Gwyneth Paltrow as mismatched neighbors.
While Gray brings an authentic look and
feel to this new film, as he has in all his movies, the story is just too
shopworn. If it wasn’t for yet another astonishingly intense, emotionally rich
performance by Cotillard there would be no reason to watch at all. This moving
performance follows her memorable work in “Inception” (2010), “Midnight in
Paris” (2011), “Contagion” (2011), “Rust and Bone” (2012) and her breakthrough,
Oscar-winning role as Edith Piaf in “La Vie en Rose” (2007).
Mid-film, Bruno’s magician cousin (Jeremy
Renner) shows up to create the film’s triangle (like magic?), but it never
feels genuine—just an overused screenwriting device, like too much of this
film.
NIGHT FLIGHT (1933)
One of the
many aviation films of the era, this story of cargo pilots in South America,
despite its all-star cast and dramatic subject, never manages to develop
the characters or the situation's urgency to make it very compelling.
Another story
of gutsy, wisecracking pilots was turned into one of the great adventure movies
by director Howard Hawks and screenwriter Jules Furthman six years later in
"Only Angels Have Wings." In this David O. Selznick production
starring John Barrymore, Clark Gable, Helen Hayes, Myrna Loy, Robert Montgomery
and Lionel Barrymore, polio serum for a dying child must be transported ASAP
from Chile to Rio de Janeiro and, of course, a wicked storm in sweeping
across the continent.
John
Barrymore, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs and stalking around his
office imperiously, plays Riviere, the manager of the transport company. He
spends most of the movie standing in front of a very impressive floor to
ceiling relief map of South America, tracking the progress of his pilots and
philosophizing on the importance of their mission.
Gable is the
fearless pilot battling the elements as his distraught wife (Hayes) prepares
for bad news. The one scene between Barrymore and Hayes (at the time, America’s
most acclaimed thespians) is a battle of overacting, but it’s the only time the
two legends appeared together on screen.
Coming off
best is Montgomery, playing a devil-may-care pilot who ignores orders to return
to the airport and instead finds company in a local brothel. (Such
nonsense would soon end when Hollywood started enforcing its Production
Code.)
Director Clarence
Brown, who went on to direct such classics as “Anna Karenina” (1935), “The
Yearling” (1944) and “Intruder in the Dust” (1949), keeps the action moving,
shifting the point of view from the pilots to Barrymore’s driven taskmaster to
the hand-wringing wives, yet few of the characters and little of the dialogue ever seem more than just make
believe.
