Change Your Image
doghouse_r
Reviews
Party Girl (1958)
A disappointment
A disappointment! I'd seen Party Girl some years ago (maybe 20) and was ecstatic. The film took cult dimensions in my memory. And having watched it the other day, oh my god, I said, what was all the fuss about? Even for 1958 the story is too melodramatic, the gangster plot too lame and the acting bad all round. Taylor plays an interesting part, his attire is first class and so is the mask he wears, mustache and all, planted on his beautiful self by the makeup department. And there the feat ends. He's stiff as usual and proud of it. Cyd Charisse doesn't even try to act. She dances well and that's all. As for tough guy Lee J. Cobb - usually a very good actor - he's plain bad. He bellows, gesticulates Italian-style, laughs out loudly, screams most of the time and shows signs of acute boredom. After all he has to play someone named "Rico Angelo" - which to me sounds like a travesty of an Italian-mobster's name! The plot is no better. Bad guys' lawyer is finally testifying against former employers who both die in the most ludicrous final scene in the history of gangster movies: both choose to stand by the wide window panes while police is firing from below the street. John Ireland gets hit, Lee J. Cobb holds the vial with the hydrochloric acid he's threatened to empty on Cyd Chariss' face, a bullet hits it and it burns his face. WOW! No, I am a great fan of Nicholas Ray's work - I really worship this director but this must be about the worse thing he's done for the screen. A happy end seems very inappropriate for the gloomy atmosphere (in the script but nowhere in the cinematography, alas!) and 1958 was not so remote a year even from black and white "noirs", like the "Asphalt Jungle" to name just one. This is mob mickey mouse.
Anatomy of a Murder (1959)
A masterpiece of irony
The sly old German, Preminger, proves a hard nut to crack today as in 1959 when the film was first issued. This is a denunciation of the trial-by-jury system, and apparently continues playing on today's viewers the same tricks it played its original ones. A gin-drinking, tough, cold blooded beast of an army veteran, beats his wife black when he catches her cheating with the local barman, shoots the offender and forces her to swear on the rosary (she's a guilt ridden Catholic because she's divorced, and clings eagerly to her creed's symbols) to lie to the authorities, claiming she's been raped by her lover, so her brute of a husband manages to obtain an "exception" as "temporarily insane" (an 1885 case is unearthed to sustain the claims of his defense) and get away with the murder. Which he does, helped by a former prosecutor (Stewart) whose place is been held by "an inferior mind" today and needs to prove to the others and himself he's not finished. Helped also by a judge whose lenience is established once he understands the defense attorney to be an equally passionate fisherman as he. Time and again the jury is advised to "disregard" what they have heard, whenever and it is very often the defense systematically overrules court procedure and creates impressions that favor the accused indeed this is a recurrent instance during that long trial. Everybody (but the average viewer!) is from a certain point on quite sure that the decorated soldier (excellent Gazzara) is guilty as charged, that his wife (equally excellent Lee Remick) is a loose morality woman, indeed a charming little harlot, that the murder has been one of cold premeditation and everybody is lying. But the system is such that impressions carry the day. This is a masterpiece of concealed realities and guilty consciences. As the defense lawyer and his "assistant" (his crony, a sympathetic old drunkard, as keen for success as is Stewart's lawyer) bless and praise juries while waiting for the verdict, as Stewart's faithful and likable secretary longs for victory only because she needs to see her long overdue paycheck made out to her, from the fee her employer is due to collect, Preminger is going all out to denounce the fallibility of the system in the most understated and at the same time the most deafening manner. I am amazed so few seem to realize this and lay instead the (great) value of that masterly directed, played and photographed film only to it's faithful, humorous, well paced and exciting depiction of the trial. This is a definite masterpiece of irony and hidden contempt, a movie angry as it is soft spoken and caressing both the public's sensibilities and the system's watchdogs apparently very stern during the late 50s.
Concierto barroco (1982)
A masterpiece
Although this will not appeal to all movie fans, it will to those who love reading and even more those who enjoy postmodernist novels. I haven't read Carpentier's novel, but on the evidence of this film I very much would. This is about the educational visit of an 18th century southern lord (Cuban I think) to Europe, who wishes to pay homage to the great continental tradition of culture which he's absorbed through reading so far. Reality is often very surprising. The main character will not only travel and live an adventure through a number of European countries but also through ages, reaching modern times and expanding his love of music (classical, so far) to jazz. A magic tale (maybe about the universal appeal of art) magically told by all concerned, actors, director, designers and photography alike. 9 out of 10 - a breath of fresh air.
Any Given Sunday (1999)
A real director
No matter whether you'll like it or not, this is a film by a real DIRECTOR (all capitals), whose individual voice can be heard all through its length. Stone is an individual, has a style of his own and can be terrifying and funny by turns. I started seeing this without knowing the cast, apart from Al Pacino that is, and went through it wondering who was the man behind the cameras. Well, when I saw Oliver Stone, I had to sigh. After so many flat, run-of-the-mill, nonsensical, line-production movies, a real film. Hate it or love it (I loved it, for its uncompromising stand, its humour, its complete lack of false sentimentality, its unpredictable -- but so fitting -- culmination and finale) you'll have to acknowledge a great Master here. Do see this film. It's worth it.
Palmetto (1998)
No noir!
The film noir formula needs all the ingredients of the era when it was created by those magnificent all-purpose directors that gave us The Maltese Falcon, Farewell my Lovely etc. To wit, black and white (ideally, although a talented cinematographer might find other ways of creating atmosphere), at least one tough guy who gets conned, short, perky dialogues and a scenarist who knows his job. It also needs the surrounding atmosphere of the 40s, a naivety both in the public and among the people behind the camera, so to speak. Our times have lost the naivety and without this the admittedly far-fetched stories don't go easily down. If you are to repeat a noir today you should at least put it firmly in its home ground - the 40s - and try to revive the atmosphere of a past era. Schländorff's Palmetto hasn't got anything of the above. The very able Harrelson is no though guy; he's an ex journalist who should know better than this. His femme fatale is Elisabeth Shue, quite out of character here, although curvaceous enough to tempt anybody to destruction. But no femme fatale - never! The scenario is a flop. No bad character worth speaking of, only a second rate ex-policeman who schemes Harrelson's destruction but we never quite know how and when. Good actor Rapaport has no part to play! The dialogues are hopeless, stupid and morose. The film plods. Harrelson piles blunder after blunder - indeed what happens to him is less than he deserves for being sooo stupid! You don't identify with him the way you are supposed to. And the finale belongs more to Superman or Batman than to film noir. Now Mr. Schländorff seems to be a guy who reeds books. He has in his debit the atrocious Swann's Way (from Proust's `Un amour de Swann') and now this one, which claims the origins of its story to J. H. Chase. He should better keep away from the books he loves. The good cinematography (although out of place here) is a boon for watching this film made long out of boredom.
Absolute Power (1997)
Quite absurd
I am a fan of Clint Eastwood's, but this time no! He soon discovered he was following the wrong trail and got bored and gave it up. The beginning maybe farfetched, but the ending is a travesty. We are told things happened that should be on screen; but seeing wouldn't have been believing it, and so - to paraphrase Mark Twain - he's drawn the curtain in a rush for pity's sake.
Hackman has played the same role much better (and in a better movie) in the past, so he is very bored and he looks it.
Casting people apparently wanted the late Lotte Lenya (Mrs. Klebb, remember?) for the part of the President's Chief of Staff, but had to compromise. Only Ed Harris is saved, as always (he's played in a lot of bad movies to be sure), excellent actor that he is.
Now Clint may have been very angry with Bill at the time -- but this is no way to show him he was a bad boy. He stops short from having a burglar save America from an evil President, and gives the knife to a millionaire philanthropist, who's wife by the way the Big One was about to bang. Now the millionaire philanthropist knew very well his wife did such things, but the President was his friend and no friend should do such a thing to his friend's wife? Right, guys? The milk-man would be eligible of course.
What a great pity. Eastwood has directed (and played in) some of the best American films, during the last decades. This must be not only his worse one but one of the worst ever.