Tag: film reviews

Film Review: School For Scoundrels

For me, the fact that this film stars Terry-Thomas makes it worth watching. Throw in the wonderful talents of Alistair Sim and Ian Carmichael and you have three of the biggest stars from Britain’s golden age of cinema. Terry-Thomas has always fascinated me, even when I was a child. Whether he was oozing villainous charm dressed and manicured as a perfect cad while fawning over some young lovely or blustering dastardliness as his suave persona fell apart when events turned against him he was and still is wonderfully entertaining. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the definition of the word “Dastardly” in any reputable dictionary said something about a Terry-Thomas character being up to his neck in some plan or other. In fact, the cartoon character Dick Dastardly from the Wacky Races kids TV show was essentially a caricature of Terry-Thomas.

The plot of the film is fairly simple. Ian Carmichael plays Henry Palfrey, a mild-mannered young man and ineffectual businessman who considers himself a failure. Everyone from his employees to his tennis club pals seem to take little notice of him and so he enrols in the “School of Lifemanship” run by Dr. Potter (Alistair Sim) who explains to his class of new students that “Lifemanship is the science of being one up on your opponents at all times. It is the art of making him feel that somewhere, somehow he has become less than you – less desirable, less worthy, less blessed.”

After the good doctor surmises that a woman must be involved when interviewing Palfrey, we see Palfrey recount in flashback how he came to meet the lovely April Smith (Janette Scott) by bumping into her getting off a bus and how his carefully planned dinner date was ruined by Raymond Delauney (Terry-Thomas). There’s a wonderful scene where Palfrey arrives with his charming date at the restaurant only to be refused entry by the maître d’ (a brilliantly snobbish turn by the marvellous John Le Mesurier) because of some mix up with the name of the booking. Unfortunately for Palfrey, before he acts on April’s advice that they go elsewhere to eat, Delauney saunters into the restaurant and, being a casual acquaintance of Palfrey through the tennis club, invites him and (more importantly) his date to join him at his table. Delauney then proceeds to spend the entire evening seducing April and in a perfect example of one-upmanship, reduces Palfrey’s fragile ego even further by getting him to foot the bill. Palfrey then makes several further puny attempts to impress his new girlfriend, including buying a car and trying to prove his tennis prowess against Delauney but fails on both accounts miserably.

Then the flashback ends and we concentrate on Palfrey’s time at the school and how quickly he picks up the art of gaining the upper hand in any given situation. The film then follows him using his newly-acquired skills as he gets his own back on pretty much everyone who had looked down on him earlier. Hilarity ensues as we see how easily he trumps Delauney’s caddish behaviour by becoming an even bigger and more skilful cad himself. However, it’s not all plain sailing for him and…at which point I’ll say no more.

School for Scoundrels is definitely worth checking out as it’s one of those charming black and white comedies that Britain made so well in the ’50s and ’60s. There’s also a wonderful sense of nostalgia to be enjoyed when seeing parts of London as they were half a century ago, when roads were clearer, trees were more abundant and social etiquette was still bordering on formal. That and three of the finest comic talents from the era. Absolutely one to be enjoyed. One final word of caution though: don’t suppose for a minute that the 2006 Hollywood remake starring Billy Bob Thornton will be in the same league.

 

Film Review: How Green Was My Valley

Not that it holds any significance but the first time I heard of this movie was during an episode of Frasier, that sitcom, which in this reviewer’s opinion, is quite possibly the cleverest and finest ever produced. Intrigued by Doctor Crane’s appraisal of the film, I sought out a copy to see why that pompous Seattle-based shrink regarded it so highly. And as the end credits rolled, I could do nothing more than concur with the good Doctor’s assessment. It truly is a masterpiece. It was nominated for ten Academy Awards and ended up winning five including Best Picture and Best Director – this in a year when such future classics as Sergeant York, Citizen Cane and The Maltese Falcon were also competing.

Set in a small coal-mining town in the South Wales Valleys at the end of the nineteenth century, the film follows the lives of the Morgan family, told in retrospect through occasional narrations by the youngest of the clan, Huw (a splendid performance by a twelve year old Roddy McDowell). It follows them through socio-economic upheaval, the passing of a way of life and the disintegration of their close-knit family unit. It is at once moving, tragic and uplifting.

Director John Ford (who, with a total of four, holds the record for most Best Director Oscars won) was always adept at giving us the idyllic family scenario and never more so than here. Living in a frugal household with five brothers – all coal-miners like their father – and a sister (the breathtakingly lovely Maureen O’Hara), Huw’s childhood seems perfect as the film begins. Love and respect abides in his home while the surrounding Welsh countryside (filming actually took place in the Santa Monica Mountains) is beautiful and not yet spoiled by the byproducts of mining. With moments of simple humour, Ford gives us a vision that is almost fairytale in its wholehearted goodness.

But then, trouble casts a shadow across this happy existence when the owner of the mine reduces the wages he pays. The miners strike in protest but not before Huw’s father Gwilym (Donald Crisp) fails to attempt a mediation and ends up estranged from the other miners as well as all his sons bar Huw.

Along with this economic turmoil that tears apart the very fabric of the townspeople’s existence, Ford interweaves a story of forbidden love between Huw’s sister Angharad (O’Hara) and the town’s new priest Mr Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon) who refuses to act on her declaration of love because he cannot expect a wife to share his life of spiritual servitude, however dutiful she may be. We also get our heartstrings pulled during Huw’s first few days at school when he encounters bullying but then they are gratifyingly massaged back into place when his unkind headmaster becomes an unwilling pupil himself, albeit fleetingly. It’s a touching moment that will make you laugh and cheer.

The film gives us a glimpse of the political changes happening in the world at the time, when younger workers bandied together in unions to fight against unfairness from their employers, an idea that might have produced a bad taste in the mouths of the town seniors, but things were a-changing and the time-honoured moralities and simple ways of the past were sadly slipping into history. Tragic indeed but no one can stop the locomotion of progress!

For some reason, this film flew below my radar for many years (as did It’s A Wonderful Life) and after watching it, I thought, “How could I not have seen this before?” But ultimately, the satisfaction comes from finding them, however eventual that may be because for true Filmofiles (if there is such a term), it’s one of life’s great pleasures to unearth a classic that has passed you by.

A truly remarkable film from a truly remarkable film-maker.

Film Review: North By Northwest

If ever there were to be a radio programme called Desert Island DVDs and (unlikely I know but) in the event that I were to find myself one of the show’s castaways, invited on to divulge eight film titles I would want with me on that small sandy speck amidst a turquoise sea, North By Northwest would most definitely be one of those eight. These two hours and sixteen minutes of pure Tinseltown magic have enthralled me many times over the years and I hold an unwavering certainty that they will do so each and every time I decide to view them in the future.

This most spectacular of all Hitchcock’s thrillers can surely lay claim to be a Blockbuster movie years before the term was widely bandied about by the Hollywood marketing machine. It has everything that a rip-roaring edge-your-seat adventure flick should. Even before the MGM lion (uniquely seen here against a green background) has cleared its throat, Bernard Herrmann’s stunning soundtrack sets the mood with its menacing intro of timpani and double bass. It builds quickly into a full-on orchestral frenzy, an unmistakable musical interpretation of a chase which, after all, is the theme at the very heart of the movie.

The opening title sequence designed by Saul Bass is a thing of beauty too and is supposedly the first feature film to use kinetic typography in its title. This is an animation technique that uses moving text to evoke an emotion or idea, in this case, the moving titles against a backdrop of an office building give the impression of a lift (or in U.S. parlance, elevator) going up and down. Watch it, it’s terrific. It’s artful.

The film stars arguably that most debonair of all leading men ever to have graced the silver screen, Cary Grant. Grant plays Roger Thornhill, a New York advertising executive who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets mistaken for a government spy and shortly after, a murderer to boot and from then on, he’s a fugitive after the truth to prove his innocence while trying to evade the good guys as well as the bad. I shall refrain from divulging any more detail of the plot and instead encourage anyone who hasn’t seen it to do so very soon because it really is about as fine a mystery/thriller as you are ever likely to see.

The original screenplay was penned by Ernest Lehman who stated that he wanted to write “the Hitchcock picture to end all Hitchcock pictures” and he was nominated for an Academy Award for his efforts. It’s an absolute cracker of a script, full of intrigue and sophisticated dialogue, wit and wonderful locations plus it includes two of cinemas most iconic sequences, one involving a crop-duster plane and the other a climb over the heads of spectacular Mount Rushmore. Once seen, never forgotten.

Hitchcock’s masterpiece it may not be, scholars and critics tend to reserve that particular appellation for Vertigo or Psycho but North By Northwest is not without its share of praise. The American Film Institute rank it highly in many of their 100 Years of… categories and seventh in their 10 Top 10 Mystery films. The film’s name has influenced a music festival in Texas “South By Southwest” and numerous scenes from it have been parodied on TV shows such as Family Guy. The grey suit worn by Cary Grant throughout most of the movie even has its own accolade. In 2006, a panel of fashion experts brought together by GQ magazine named it the best suit in film history as well as the most influential on men’s style. Apparently, it has since been copied for Tom Cruise in Collateral and Ben Affleck in Paycheck.

But perhaps this is delving a little too deep and some of you might say, “Oh come on, it’s only a film, after all.” Nevertheless, only a film it may be, but when a collection of highly talented individuals come together and work as a team they can sometimes produce something extremely worthwhile and having already recommended this film for viewing several paragraphs ago, I will end with the admission that that is how I regard the two hours and sixteen minutes of this movie – extremely worthwhile!

Film Review: The Avengers

Note: Spoilers assemble…

A Shakespearean God from the realm of Asgard blasts his way through a top-secret facility, using an oddly shaped sceptre to brain-warp those he decides will be of some use in his scheming plans, and steals a bright blue cube of immense energy and power. This bright blue cube of immense energy and power will destroy our entire world if utilised in the incorrect fashion, and that’s all you really need to know in order to enjoy this film, which, for a movie with a running time of over two hours, is remarkably fresh and breezy.

The god in question is Loki (Tom Hiddleston), primary antagonist from last year’s comic-caper Thor, one of several antecedents for the combined delight that is The Avengers (or if you’ll humour me, Marvel’s Avengers Assemble). It all began in 2008 when Robert Downey Jr’s revitalised career mirrored the start of something new, something exciting. The result is a well-tuned, well-acted, exceptionally-scripted blockbuster that has issued a strong, robust, and loud message, not just to its flocking audiences, but to a certain Chris Nolan: “Your move, Mr. Wayne…”

The task of bringing the outlandish egos of Iron Man (Downey Jr.), Thor (Chris Hemsworth), Captain America (Chris Evans), and The Incredible Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) together to form one cohesive narrative has fallen kindly at the feet of cult-hero (and god) Joss Whedon. You’ll have to forgive me at this point; I grew up on a healthy diet of American pop culture, of which Whedon’s Buffy The Vampire Slayer was a strong contributor, and to this day, I would gladly give up my first born child for this man. I try to avoid inane bias in my reviews, but sometimes there is too great a force, and this is one such occasion. I shall reliably inform you that the man is a genius. An underrated, relentless, wit-tastic genius.

That being said, this movie should not work. It just shouldn’t. There is so much going on at any one moment in time that it’s very hard to comprehend what one character just said before you’re whisked away on another matter. Take the scene aboard the heli-boat-copter for instance; they’re trying to figure Loki out, what he wants, what he plans to do etc, then all of a sudden, we’re thrust into a brand new world where S.H.I.E.L.D, led by the one-eyed Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), are suddenly the enemies, planning on utilising that bright blue cube of immense energy and power in their favour by constructing weapons of mass destruction. However, Fury isn’t exactly up to date on this plan. I know – confusing, right? It’s a comic book film in every sense, and it’s superior to every other comic book film that has taken to our screens (I don’t include The Dark Knight in this instance as it transcends the genre) and if you don’t walk into the screening with your disbelief well and truly suspended…then what’s the point, may I ask?

Don’t compare this film to The Dark Knight Rises – it’ll be like comparing American Beauty to Pan’s Labyrinth – because these are two differently dexterous directors who have engaged in two differently dexterous styles of film. With The Avengers, you will have fun; sublime fun. There are a lot of explosions, but the on-screen action is directed with aplomb and swiftness – Whedon never forgets his constraints on time and space, and is able to move our attention to where it truly matters, delivering one hell of a final act that is brash, loud, and utterly brilliant.

I could talk forever about the script, which is full to the brim with witty one-liners and dripping with banterous dialogue. Fans of Whedon will know how strong a writer he is, and his style has not been diluted by the money-starved executives behind the scenes. The film is really quite hilarious, and one of the only negatives I could come up with for the film is that you may occasionally struggle to hear the dialogue through the raucous laughter sounding out around you.

Take a film like Inception – I know I said not to compare to Nolan, but I’m not comparing styles – it doesn’t utilise all its characters, it fits them into the story well enough, but we never get a true sense of who they are. Why on earth is Ariadne helping out Cobb? What does she stand to gain? Eames? Is he in it for the money? The Avengers’ main strength is its character moments, even the smallest nuance of a smile or gesture – it gets it absolutely spot on, and is what makes the film so enjoyable. A film about characters that will never exist in our world suddenly become so relatable, so easy to connect with, that we root for them to the very end, part with our well-earned money, and eagerly anticipate the inevitable sequel.

I can’t stress enough how good this movie is; for fans of Joss Whedon’s existing works, I’d be stunned if you hadn’t already seen it, and for those who have little idea of who he is, get ready to have your minds completely, whole-heartedly, unequivocally…blown.

Film Review: So Long at the Fair

This period mystery made in 1950 and starring a very young and incredibly beautiful Jean Simmons really is a little known gem of British cinema and I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t seen it. Chances are, a good number of you haven’t even heard of it because it rarely crops up on anyone’s list of must-see movies. But do yourself a favour and don’t let that put you off – it’ll grip you from beginning to end!

Simmons plays Vicky Barton, who along with her brother Johnny (David Tomlinson – perhaps better known for his roles in Bedknobs and Broomsticks and Mary Poppins) is en route from Naples to the Paris Exposition of 1889. She is brimming with excitement at her first visit to the French capital and can’t wait to be one of the first people to climb the new Eiffel Tower. Johnny though is more reserved, one might even describe him as stuffy but he’s willing to endure the sightseeing to please his dear little sister. Vicky is keen to stay in Paris for at least a week but he’s only booked their hotel rooms for two nights and doubts whether they will be able to extend their booking on account of the crowds that have descended on the city for the Expo. He’s also tired and keen to get home to England.

On arrival at their hotel, Vicky and her brother are welcomed by owner and manager Madame Hervé (Cathleen Nesbitt), a chalk cliff-faced widower if ever there was one and she gives them the keys to their rooms, 17 and 19. Johnny is about to sign the hotel register when he is distracted by a missing item of luggage and while he pops outside to their coach to retrieve it, Vicky signs the register instead. After having settled into their rooms, Vicky drags poor tired Johnny out for a night on the town and following dinner they head to Moulin Rouge where she encounters George Hathaway (Dirk Bogarde), a charming young artist living in Paris. However, George is with friends and so their encounter is only brief.

Back at the hotel, Vicky leaves her brother in the lobby to enjoy a nightcap and she heads up to her room with the threat that she’ll drag him out of bed at 9 in the morning. As Johnny enjoys his drink, George appears with his friends who just so happen to be staying in the same hotel. He asks Johnny if he has change for a 100 franc note because he doesn’t have anything smaller to pay his cab fare but the best Johnny can do is lend him 50 francs, which he does. George promises to pay him back in the morning. And so nightcap imbibed, exhausted Johnny finally retires to his bed behind door number 19.

In the morning when Vicky trots down the corridor towards her brother’s room his door isn’t where she thought it was and on closer inspection, door number 19 opens to reveal a communal bathroom. Assuming she must have remembered his room number wrongly, she asks Madame Hervé which room her brother is in to which she is told – “Your brother? But surely you are here alone.’ Startled, she asks the hotel porter who confirms that she arrived on her own and the register backs up their story because only her name is in it. In fact, there’s no evidence of her brother at all, not even the room he was supposed to have taken. And so begins a wonderfully paced yarn full of Victorian etiquette and charm that will keep you guessing right up to the end.

I would be doing you a disservice if I revealed the rest of the plot so I won’t but I will say that Vicky seeks help from the dashing young George who is only too happy to come to this fair maiden’s aid. Simmons is just terrific as the confused and rather helpless innocent abroad and Bogarde plays his part of the raffish young hero as easily as he does in many of his movies. The sets and costumes are splendid as are the exterior shots; you’d never guess it was filmed entirely at Pinewood and to add to the film’s overall authenticity many of the British supporting cast (who are all excellent by the way), speak French like natives. The audience is not distracted by unnecessary subtitles either and it works because even if you don’t understand the language, you understand body language. Sometimes a shrug of the shoulders or a wave of a hand can relate as much as any line of dialogue.

Written by Hugh Mills and Anthony Thorne and directed by Terence Fisher and Antony Darnborough the film has parts that will make you giggle and others that will send a shiver down your spine. Imagine being a stranger in a strange land with no money and very little knowledge of your environment only to be told the person you arrived with (and more worryingly your guardian – the person who was looking after you) was but a figment of your imagination! A hard to imagine scenario, isn’t it but scary nonetheless. But did it really happen? Well, according to legend it did (with a slight variation on the characters) although there is no evidence to back up this claim (sounds like poor young Vicky).

So Long at the Fair is an intriguing British noir, a dark little tale set in the city of light. It’s worth a look for many reasons not least because there’s something frighteningly real about it. Has such a thing really happened before? And in today’s complicated and technologically advanced world could such a scenario happen at all? Surely not. But just suppose the day before the opening ceremony at London 2012…

Film Review – “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre”

Collaborating for a third time were star Humphrey Bogart and writer/director John Huston in this 1948 classic. They would go on to make a total of six movies together including The Maltese Falcon and The African Queen and all I can say to that is – like eggs and bacon, some partnerships were just meant to be!

Some films thrill us with their stunning visuals and intricate plots that weave and wend through a patchwork of location changes and character allegiances; some make us laugh from witty dialogue or weep from a deep emotional connection but then others simply lay bare, in all its divine glory or unholy horror, the spirit of humankind.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre has one of the seven deadly sins at its core but in spite of its heavy theme, it remains surprisingly entertaining. That’s what a great writer can achieve and Huston was rewarded with the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for his troubles. He also took home the Award for Best Director and just to keep things in the family, his father (Walter Huston) took home the statue for Best Supporting Actor.

In 1920s Mexico, American drifter Fred C. Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) and fellow vagrant Bob Curtin (Tim Holt), find themselves begging for food in the small town of Tampico because they’ve been cheated out of several days wages by an unscrupulous contractor. In a frowsy boarding house, they meet grizzly old-timer Howard (Walter Huston) who captivates them with his tales of gold prospecting and it doesn’t take long before their heads are filled with dreams of striking it rich in the Sierra Madre mountains. After Dobbs and Curtin allow their fists to persuade the swindling contractor to cough up what he owes them, they purchase prospecting equipment and together with Howard, they head up into the hills in search of their fortune.

Howard, the old-timer has been on this fortune trail before and is all too aware of the perils they face. He explains about the bandits and the inhospitable elements and he also warns about the danger they present to each other. “I know what gold does to men’s souls”, he says. It’s clear from the outset, when Dobbs promises that everything will work out dandy and that any gold they find will be split three ways, that Howard is the least convinced of the three.

With Howard’s knowledge of the mountain together with his mining know-how, they begin to extract their gold. The work is filthy and hard but their labours continue and the gold piles up. Greed soon comes into camp though and Dobbs becomes increasingly distrustful of his partners to the point of being terrified they will kill him. Sleep becomes something all three attempt to avoid in order to stay alive but then a fourth American, James Cody appears on the scene thereby setting up a moral debate regarding the sharing out of the gold. Paranoia increases, bandits turn up, guns are fired and the ending is a bitter irony and a lesson to be learned.

This film is a far cry from the cool sophistication of Bogart’s earlier Huston-directed efforts and in this he’s about as charming as a scorpion in your lunchbox but all in all, it’s a cracker of a movie. Walter Huston takes the honour of finest performance though and indeed, it was rumoured that he was asked by the director (his son) to tone down his performance so as not to steal the movie from Bogart. It is noted for being one of the first Hollywood films to be shot almost entirely on location outside the U.S and is quite faithful to B. Traven’s novel of the same name on which it is based.

If you haven’t seen it yet, lucky you. Go rent it or better still, buy it because you’ll want to see it more than once for sure. It’s a title that appears in numerous top 100 polls, it includes an iconic quote about “stinking badges” and best of all, it’s devoid of any visual flab so common in mediocre moviemaking. It’s bare boned, gritty and powerful; cinematic storytelling at its very best.