tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68785172060109262302024-03-19T03:07:49.341-04:00NIXPIX - BLU-RAY, 4K and DVD ReviewsNick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.comBlogger2264125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-69505752281615622242024-03-18T20:50:00.004-04:002024-03-18T20:54:09.457-04:00PAINT YOUR WAGON: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, 1969) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VcbvpqP_A0OZqRtw0J1lBO9Pf1ZZIc7Eafzjw_D5YId3340fWZIF7aGWkTJf_Pxl4RDFSca_XDR9NYcVVWJaGVoq3eaL4gHkQBKvy6a8rUK3vfGM1agIUAdgiLQdPrmftNuPV3tG8NrzW1zrc5r1SKVTWGgTwcEREKT_BeZvzW21MUnQmCAr8B68HYo/s1415/PAINT%20YOUR%20WAGON.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1415" data-original-width="1089" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VcbvpqP_A0OZqRtw0J1lBO9Pf1ZZIc7Eafzjw_D5YId3340fWZIF7aGWkTJf_Pxl4RDFSca_XDR9NYcVVWJaGVoq3eaL4gHkQBKvy6a8rUK3vfGM1agIUAdgiLQdPrmftNuPV3tG8NrzW1zrc5r1SKVTWGgTwcEREKT_BeZvzW21MUnQmCAr8B68HYo/w435-h566/PAINT%20YOUR%20WAGON.jpg" width="435" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Few movie
musicals are as incalculably ill-advised, monstrous atrocities as director,
Joshua Logan’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b>, by 1969, a careworn and very creaky chestnut
from another bygone era. The sixties were a particularly detrimental decade for
the Hollywood musical. <b>Finian’s Rainbow</b> (1968)…need I say more? While
the celluloid escapist song-and-dancers of the thirties and forties relied – chiefly
– on hand-crafted material, expressly conceived for the medium of film,
increasingly, this balance of power began to shift in the cash-strapped fifties,
with studios merely acquiring pre-sold product directly from the Broadway theater.
In theory, the logic was sound. Except, what works in stagecraft rarely
translates entirely, or even marginally, to the two-dimensional proscenium. Thus,
the Broadway-to-Hollywood hybrids, with noted exceptions, became more infamous
for their lack in faithfulness, strangely off-kilter with the more expansive
movie canvas. This creative chasm was exacerbated by needless tinkering; movies
whose only resemblance to the Broadway origins was in a basic retainment of its
title, with book and lyrics shorn in favor of new – though rarely ‘better’
material. The introduction of Cinemascope, and later – Panavision – also cast its
pall on the intimacy of these shows as bigger, bolder reimagining was deemed
necessary to really wow the audience, filling ever more vast and vacuous screen
space with some sort of frenetic action. Alas, such blind and lavish ambition
debunked the axiom ‘<i>bigger is better.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Joshua Logan was
the wrong man to deliver Alan Jay Lerner and Fredrick Loewe’s tune-filled
western from the wilderness into the wonderment of the movies. Logan’s
participation on several big-budgeted musicals from this period had much to do
with his having co-written and directed the stage and screen versions of
Rodgers and Hammerstein’s <b>South Pacific</b>. Nearly a decade separated those
efforts (1949 and 1958 respectively). In the interim, Logan remained primarily
a director of dramas. This <i>is</i> where his métier lay. Alas, Hollywood
doggedly pursued Logan to helm, though in hindsight, make an utter travesty of
two of the sixties’ most amiable musical properties. The first casualty of
Logan’s relentless heavy-handed approach was <b>Camelot</b> (1967). The other
was <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b>. The executive logic in hiring Logan to direct <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint
Your Wagon</span></b>, particularly in this uncertain epoch where movie musicals –
once, sure-fire gold – were now foundering at the box office, though especially
in the shadow of <b>Camelot</b>’s own disastrous intake, is puzzling. While the
film version of <b>South Pacific</b> made money, it was widely – and justly – panned
by the critics for Logan’s hermetically sealed approach to Hollywood does
stagecraft. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">If not for its
exotic locales and tenderly rendered performance by Mitzi Gaynor, the film
would have little to impress. But <b>Camelot</b> had imploded under Logan’s
bizarre elephantiasis. As with it, the other lethal decision made on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint
Your Wagon</span>,</b> one to effectively severe all creative arteries, was the
casting of non-musical performers in musical roles. This too had become
something of ‘a thing’ in the mid-sixties – a great actor taking the place of a
great singer or dancer. In unique instances, such as Robert Preston’s mesmeric
turn as Prof. Harold Hill in <b>The Music Man</b> (1962) or Rex Harrison’s devilishly
sexist rhyming as Prof. Henry Higgins in <b>My Fair Lady</b>, the effect was sagaciously
stylish and pleasing. But the songs afforded both those characters had been
essentially designed to be spoken on pitch, rather than belted into the
rafters. Not so with the score to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, there was ample
blame to go around. The movies stars, Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin are
irrefutably monumental he-men and solid performers besides. But musicals is decidedly
‘not’ their thing. Marvin in particular, croaks like a bullfrog, makes an utter
mockery of <i>‘The First Thing You Know’</i> while Eastwood’s rendition of <i>‘I Talk to The Trees’</i> only serves
to reaffirm why they have no interest in listening to him. Prior to Logan,
there had been several attempts to launch <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> on the big
screen. Jack Warner thought he could do something with it as a vehicle for
Doris Day, but then went with the western-themed <b>Calamity Jane</b> (1953)
instead. Louis B. Mayer, by then, ousted from power at MGM, but still
contemplating his legacy as an independent, bought the rights to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your
Wagon</span></b> shortly before his death in 1957. Thereafter, Mayer’s estate
reconciled with Paramount, the studio acquiring <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> as a
vehicle for Bing Crosby (who eventually donned western garb for the 1966
non-musical remake of <b>Stagecoach</b>). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Having written
the screenplays for Oscar-winners, <b>An American in Paris, Gigi,</b> and <b>My
Fair Lady</b> (the latter two, he also wrote the book and score with collaborative
partner, Frederick Loewe), Alan Jay Lerner elected to produce <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your
Wagon</span></b>. It was Lerner’s decision to hire Logan in lieu of fellow director,
Blake Edwards, who had already expressed interests in doing the film. Somewhere
along the way the executive decision was made to jettison the premise of the
stagecraft, with Lerner hoping to lure Loewe to partake of a complete rewrite.
Loewe balked. He was, after all, enjoying his retirement to its fullest in the
south of France at the time. So, Lerner turned instead to André Previn, not
such a bad second, except Previn had grave difficulties authoring substitute
songs that fit into the style of Loewe’s surviving original score. Eastwood replaced George Maharis and Lee
Marvin received a cool million to be top billed, with Eastwood raking in a
respectable $750,000. For the romantic lead, producers considered Faye Dunaway,
Mia Farrow, Tuesday Weld, Julie Andrews, Diana Rigg and Sally Ann Howes, before
Jean Seberg was finally hired for the coveted role of Elizabeth. Regrettably,
somewhere along the rewrite, Seberg’s character became mere token estrogen in
this all-male pantheon. Interestingly, while Eastwood and Marvin (to their
everlasting detriment) did their own singing, Seberg’s vocals were dubbed by
Anita Gordon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Important to
reconsider what <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> might have been on the screen had it
adhered to the original stagecraft. On Broadway, the tale was set in California
circa 1853 and had Ben Rumson, the impoverished miner striking it rich along
with his daughter, Jennifer. Soon, prospectors stake their claims and the town
of Rumson is established: all men…except for Jen. Handsome miner, Julio
Valveras begins to fall for Jennifer. As he is Mexican, Ben is alarmed by his
daughter’s mutual attraction to the young buck. Meanwhile, Jacob Woodling, a
Mormon toting two wives, Sarah and Elizabeth, is forced to give one of them up.
Ben woos Liz. But his affections disgust Jennifer who promises to return to
Julio in a year. Julio’s luck turns bad, forcing him to leave town before the
year’s end. Miner Mike Mooney informs Julio about a lake whose bottom is
covered in gold dust. Meanwhile, fellow miner, Raymond Janney offers to buy
Elizabeth from Ben. She has other ideas
and runs off with another miner, Edgar Crocker instead. Another strike some
forty miles away depletes Rumson of its populace. The place is now a ghost
town. Nevertheless, when Julio returns, he finds Jennifer waiting for him. Though
his claim has failed, Ben welcomes Julio into the family, as the wagons filled
with town folk depart Rumson for the last time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">On stage, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint
Your Wagon</span></b> was a poignantly executed parable about the inevitable passage
of time and the fitful legacy of man’s conquering of the old west. Regrettably,
the movie version – co-authored by Lerner and Paddy Chayefsky – decided something
else, though fatally, not something more, was needed. And thus, the movie
version of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> opens in Oregon country, with the daring derailment
of Ben Rumson’s (Lee Marvin) wagon train down a steep ravine. As one of the
occupants has died, Ben decides to bury him nearby where he inadvertently
discovers gold dust. Ben also elects to make the dead man’s brother, Sylvester
Newell (Clint Eastwood) his business partner. Newell, however, is a cautious
man and not at all contented with this arrangement. Especially disconcerting is
Ben’s rather obnoxious boozin’ and ballin’. He<i> is</i> a rogue. Establishing ‘no
name city’ in this rugged wilderness, Ben is suspicious of the newly arrived,
Jacob Woodling (John Mitchum), a Mormon with two wives, until he agrees to sell
the younger of his two brides, Elizabeth (Jean Seberg) to Ben. Determined not
to be treated as chattel, Liz threatens Ben into building her a cabin. This
provides her with a sense of security and Liz settles into her new life and
home. Naturally, the other men in town, deprived of female companionship, are
jealous of this arrangement. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thus, when Ben
learns of ‘six French tarts’ traveling to a neighboring town by stagecoach, he
plots to reroute their journey so the other miners can find love on their terms
too. While conspiring on this heist, Ben leaves Elizabeth in Newell’s care. Predictably,
true love takes hold. Reticent about leaving her husband, Liz reasons that if a
Mormon can have two wives, she can keep two men as her lovers. This arrangement
is equitable to Ben and Newell until a meddling parson (Alan Dexter) begins to
preach of sin and corruption. As God-fearing settlers arrive in town, Ben is
forced to reconsider. After an avalanche detains the Fentys, an
ultra-conservative family to remain guests at their cabin, Liz lies that Newell
is her husband, leaving Ben to concoct an insidious revenge. He will introduce
the family’s patriarch, Horton Fenty (Alan Baxter) to the local
whorehouse/saloon. Disgusted, Elizabeth orders both Ben and Newell from the
house. The latter takes up gambling to pass the time. Alas, during a
bull-and-bear fight, the rampaging bull charges into the tunnels previously dug
under the entire town by Ben, fracturing the support beams and causing all of
the buildings to instantly implode. Ben departs for other prospects further
north, leaving Newell and Elizabeth to rekindle their love match. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tricked out in
Panavision, but bereft of a single engaging moment, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> is
a disastrously bloated movie musical with a plot more wafer-thin than the singing talents of Eastwood and Marvin. Time often, and rather strangely, mellows such
artistic failings. Not in this case. If
anything, the years illustrate more clearly Joshua Logan’s overall lapse in
good judgement to make anything except a morbid mess of this once lithe and
lyrical stagecraft. Shot in Baker City, Oregon, Big Bear Lake, California and
the San Bernardino National Forest – it all looks rather rurally impressive. Too
bad, interiors were all filmed back at Paramount – and look it too in all their
static plywood beauty. Logan’s fastidiousness to will silk from this sow caused
the picture’s original budget of $10 million to double with nearly $80,000
spent daily on transporting cast and crew to and from the set to the nearest
hotel – a whopping 60 miles away! Under
siege by inclement weather, delays owed Lee Marvin’s chronic alcoholism, and, a
looming strike, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> did have one positive conclusion.
Costar, Clint Eastwood has since cited its chaotic gestation as the reason he
decided to become a director. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is an atrocity.
It sinks faster than the town of ‘no name’ because it diffuses the ‘communal’
aspect of the stage show into a two-person show, with Jean Seberg liberally
tossed from the arms of one suitor into the waiting fetch and carry of another.
Of the considerable Broadway score, only eight songs survived this 3-hour-plus
screen spectacle, with the one irrefutable hit tune, <i>‘They Call the Wind
Maria’</i> – magnificently warbled by Harve Presnell’s Rotten Luck Willie. The lion’s share for the picture’s inexcusable
lack of finesse is owed Logan’s direction. It is lethal, except in fitful
bursts of action that come to life almost in spite of Logan’s efforts to tamp
down on this joyless excursion into the wilderness. In lieu of actual
choreography, Logan contented his musical bent on a series of cutaways to men’s
dirty feet stomping into the mud. Because Lerner could not woo Loewe back into
service, he leaned rather heavily on the new songs co-authored by André Previn.
Some, fit into the tone of the piece, well enough to be mistaken as of Loewe’s
tenor and tempo. Others, regrettably show their source, and serve as little
more than a tacked-on diversion between the comic or dramatic scenes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of the three
central performers, only Lee Marvin’s manages to blitz the bull-sugar out of
its doldrums. He is over-the-top, though in the best sense of that ancient art
of camp. And Marvin, at least, seems to be having a good time playing the town
drunk. Less remarkable, and certainly far more off key, is Marvin’s
interpretation of the songs. It’s painful to the ears. Clint Eastwood’s attempt
at the ballad has all the luster of watching fresh cow’s milk curdle in the
noonday sun. As for Jean Seberg – what exactly is she doing in this movie?
After her introduction, she serves as decorous filler, trundled out in her
bustle and blues merely to remind the audience there is something of a tepid
lover’s triangle going on here. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Paint Your Wagon</b> </span>ought to have been one
of the irrefutable highlights of the sixties’ road show musical. Certainly, it
squandered most – if not all – of that potential on a director incapable of completely
understanding the genre. But it also deprived audiences of one of Lerner and
Loewe’s finest stagecraft. Oh, what a producer like Arthur Freed and a director
of Vincente Minnelli’s ilk and caliber in their prime could have made of it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kino Lorber, with
Paramount’s complicity, debut <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> in UHD 4K Blu-ray.
Paramount has done the heavy lifting here with a gorgeous restoration. I would
have preferred their money spent on another – better – late-sixties’ musical, 1967’s
more smartly turned out, <b>Half a Sixpence</b> featuring the incomparable
Tommy Steele and marvelous Julia Foster in a far more evolved and engaging hybrid.
But I digress. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> really looks amazing in 4K. Every frame of William A Fraker’s
cinematography shines with clarity and refinement, the high-key-lit scenery sparkling
from start to finish. Dolby Vision/HDR enhances the black levels and contrast is
wonderful, with a light smattering of film grain looking very indigenous to its
source. We get 2.0 and 5.1 DTS soundtracks. The 2.0 is closest to the
theatrical release. But the 5.1 adds marginal separation to the songs.
Otherwise, the two tracks are remarkably similar. Kino has shelled out for a
new audio commentary from Dwayne Epstein, Courtney Joyner, and Henry Parke.
There are many errors in this triumvirate’s recall. I suppose we can forgive
them, as they ramble, reminisce and rail against the general consensus <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint
Your Wagon</span></b> is an unmitigated turkey, for almost three hours. The only other
extra is a trailer, badly worn and barely running a minute. Bottom line: it’s hard to reconsider
<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b> as anything except the final nail in the coffin of that
bygone era in sixties’ road show movie musicals. Looking for three-solid-hours
to spend enraptured in story and song? <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Paint Your Wagon</span></b>, <i>t’aint your
wagon</i>. Just saying. Judge and buy accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">1.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-49080427369668345972024-03-17T11:59:00.007-04:002024-03-17T12:05:24.627-04:00ALL THAT MONEY CAN BUY: Blu-ray (RKO/William Dieterle Productions, 1941) Criterion Collection<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7mzeWquOZzIGIrou86Bkr9lcd_MOEZuuXqmuW6VjGYNQAZcBt8SMQRVPVwSJV5reDzqZVFuYWBqjJFzmVuuWDWY5b7Ko77XzkIXSYY8MD1GHtfW8Zz-4SOoG2BMnGzs4eJAU8eGegYaqxo7rdzOWdledXonSMiMXtFBUpgliVciQrMQ2g-2CMwisxjg/s1500/ALL%20THAT%20MONEY%20CAN%20BUY.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1207" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7mzeWquOZzIGIrou86Bkr9lcd_MOEZuuXqmuW6VjGYNQAZcBt8SMQRVPVwSJV5reDzqZVFuYWBqjJFzmVuuWDWY5b7Ko77XzkIXSYY8MD1GHtfW8Zz-4SOoG2BMnGzs4eJAU8eGegYaqxo7rdzOWdledXonSMiMXtFBUpgliVciQrMQ2g-2CMwisxjg/w448-h558/ALL%20THAT%20MONEY%20CAN%20BUY.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Odd,
perhaps, to classify director, William Dieterle’s 1941 masterpiece, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That
Money Can Buy</span> </b>(a.k.a. <b>The Devil and Daniel Webster</b>) as a
fantasy/horror movie. For the struggle at the root of all evil – man’s love of
the all-mighty buck – is the very crux of this darkly purposed and sinister
drama, given to exquisite performances by James Craig and Anne Shirley, as the
titular God-fearing, backwoods couple, Jabez and Mary Stone. The tale is that
of a man, Jabez, so miserably under siege by hardship and ever-teetering financial
ruin that, in a moment’s weakness, he offers to sell his soul to the devil for
two cents; a bargain he will fast live to regret. For the devil’s emissary on
earth, Mr. Scratch (Walter Huston in a deliciously grotesque, and, deservedly
Oscar-nominated turn), is more than willing to oblige Jabez…for a price.
Ever-lasting damnation in trade for seven years earthly prosperity may seem
like an implausible cost to bear. Yet, daily who among us has not fleetingly reconsidered
giving up this intangible to a more tactile manifestation weighed against the
hard-won sweat off our brows?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money
Can Buy</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is a cautionary tale, most directly aimed at the Bible-belted, rural
enclaves of humanity, otherwise left mostly to their scripture and faith to
etch out renewed meaning from their lives of quiet desperation. And, rather
unknowingly, the picture since serves as an ominous precursor for the way of
the world as it stands. What the devil could make of our present-age’s fame-mongering/money-hungry
hedonism, bent on mass consumption to medicate our unbearable lightness of
being at a loss of friendship, family, the love of a good man or woman, and
children…ever-more needed to reshape our definition of prosperity for the
future. Immediately following the
success of <b>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</b> (1939), director, William
Dieterle founded his own production company, inking a distribution deal with RKO
Radio Pictures. Dieterle’s interest in Stephen Vincent Benét's short story
likely hailed from his participation on director, F. W. Murnau's silent adaptation
of <b>Faust</b> (1926). Undeniably, similarities abound between these two
movies. Benét was, in fact, encouraged to adapt his story for the screen, working
with Dan Totheroh. The results proved fruitful, with Benet agreeing to some
changes along the way. In the short story, Daniel Webster (played with slick
incredulity by Edward Arnold, in a role originally intended for Thomas Mitchell)
regrets Benedict Arnold's absence from Jabez Stone’s trial. In the movie, Webster
objects to Arnold’s presence, citing his treason. Perhaps most astonishing of
all, Mr. Scratch evolves into a far more subtly nuanced menace, deferring the
more ambitious seduction to the wiles of Belle (Simone Simon), a flashy viper,
expressly created for the movie with no counterpoint in Benet’s original story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money
Can Buy</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is an exquisitely tailored production. Interestingly, RKO refused to
allow Dieterle to release the picture under Benet’s short story title, as it
clashed with their own newly released <b>The Devil and Miss Jones</b> (1941).
In later years, the original titles were discovered, as well as an alternate – <b>Here
Is A Man</b>. Intermittently thereafter, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money Can Buy</span></b> would be
reissued theatrically under all three. Though<b> <span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money Can Buy</span></b> was
shot on a relatively modest budget, Dieterle placed his emphasis on where it would
do the most inherent good; first, on his expert pacing and personally-selected
cast, also to include beautifully understated performances by Jane Darwell (Ma
Stone), H.B. Warner (Justice Hawthorne) and, John Qualen (Miser Stevens). The moody magnificence in Joseph H. August’s
B&W cinematography should not be overlooked either. August creates
foreboding almost from our first introduction to the Stone family. His debut of
Mr. Scratch, materializing through translucently apocalyptic mist beyond the
barn, is truly mesmerizing. Finally, Bernard Herrmann’s Oscar-winning score – a
deft combination of original cues and source music derived from folk tunes
(culminating in a demonic elucidation of ‘<i>Pop Goes the Weasel’</i> – staged
as a country dance by Dieterle and shot by August in deliriously stark half
shadows) is an overpowering experience. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The year is 1840.
The place: New Hampshire. We are introduced to the agrarian, Jabez Stone, proud,
but drowning in debt and personal mishaps. Nothing seems to go Stone’s way. After
his wife, Mary takes a tumble from their carriage, a thoroughly frustrated
Stone impetuously asserts he would trade his soul for two cents. Enter, Mr.
Scratch with an offer much sweeter than this: seven years of good fortune and
prosperity. Scratch produces a hoard of Hessian gold bubbling up from the straw
in Jabez’s barn, an enticement for him to sign the contract. Flush with money,
Jabez pays off his creditors and embarks upon his new life with great hope and
desire to make a success of things. Driving Mary and Ma into town, Jabez is
introduced to the celebrated congressman/barrister/orator, Daniel Webster, the
working man’s friend. Scratch has failed to tempt Webster into selling his soul
for the U.S. Presidency. So, Scratch invests everything in transforming Jabez
from poor country courtier into a dandy, alienated from Mary and Ma. After the
birth of their son, Scratch replaces the family’s maid with Belle, whose
dishonorable seductions becomes more disingenuously disturbing and obscene with
the passage of time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Belle bewitches
Jabez. But she also corrupts his son, Daniel (Lindy Wade) who matures into a
petulant brat. Indifferent to Mary’s heed and advice, Jabez pursues his
pleasures with Belle, building an ostentatious manor where he intends to show
off to all their friends. Alas, the party turns nightmarish when Miser Stevens,
partly responsible for forcing Jabez to consider Scratch’s initial offer, now
confides to Jabez he too has sold his soul to the devil. Belle lures Stevens to
the dance floor where he succumbs to a heart attack. Evidently, his contract with
Scratch is up. Fearful of suffering the same fate, Jabez tries to destroy the tree
on his property where Scratch had earlier burned the expiration date for their
contract into its bark. Alas, nothing will undo this curse. Horrified, Jabez
pursues Mary and Webster, pleading for their forgiveness and help. As Webster’s
reputation as the foremost defender of the moral good precedes him, he takes
the case. Scratch now appeals to Jabez on an extension of their terms in
exchange for young Daniel’s soul. Jabez is repulsed. Now, Webster leverages his
soul against a chance to defend Jabez in a formal trial. Scratch is intrigued,
but stacks the jury pool in his favor from a rogues’ gallery of past victims/villains.
Scratch also places Salem ‘witch hunt’ justice, John Hathorne on the magistrate’s
bench. However, Webster’s defense is as eloquent as it is simple. While all are
entitled to ‘choose’ their destiny, the fates of the jury have already been
decided. By contrast, Jabez’s soul is up for grabs. It <i>can</i> be saved.
Hathorne concurs. Jabez’s contract with Scratch is declared null and void. In
reply, Scratch bitterly recedes, though not before promising Webster he will
never be president.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money
Can Buy</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is a sobering indictment of man’s enduring inability to reign in his
greed. Jabez Stone’s case is neither extraordinary nor unique. Indeed, he
represents the fate, as well as the folly of the ‘God-fearing’ though hardly
infallible ‘everyman.’ While the focus of the tale is Jabez’s plight, the
original short story’s title implies a more concerted focus on the righteous Daniel
Webster pitted against the moral depravity of Satan. The movie, however, is directly
invested in the Stone family. This, suspiciously renders its narrative
uncomfortably situated for the penultimate showdown between good and evil, as
Jabez Stone is not entirely without malice or flaws, and, Mr. Scratch bears
more than a modicum of devilish good nature, rendered playful, and even
marginally appealing. Walter Huston’s performance as the emissary of evil is
without peer. Calculatingly lit and photographed by Joe August with a
pervasively pale glint of larceny perpetually caught in his eyes, Huston’s insidiously
gentle demon is, at once, powerfully appealing, yet socially disturbing as a
figure of mendacity. Initially released at 107-mins., <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money Can Buy</span></b>
was a critical, though not a commercial success, incurring a loss of $5300 on
RKO’s ledgers. Its title was later changed to <b>The Devil and Daniel Webster</b>
for reissues. But by then, RKO had pared its runtime to a scant 85-mins. without
Dieterle’s consent – rendering its narrative almost incoherent. Mercifully, the
cuts survived and were later reinstated in a 1990 reissue. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">All That Money
Can Buy</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> arrives on Blu-ray via Criterion in a refurbished master, gleaned from
surviving nitrate camera negatives and meticulously restored in cooperation
with the film and television archives of UCLA, MoMA, and the Library of
Congress. The results yield an
impressive image unseen for decades. Gray scale tonality is superbly rendered.
Fine details abound. Contrast is uniformly excellent. The image is crisp
without any untoward digital tinkering. Grain structure remains intact. The PCM
mono audio is impressive. Top marks for quality. Not
so much for the ‘goodies’ Criterion deigned to include herein. Virtually nothing is
new. The commentary from historian,
Bruce Eder and Steven C. Smith, as well as Smith’s video essay are from the 2003
Criterion DVD release. We also get Alec Baldwin reading Benet’s short story –
again, from 2003. Finally, there are radio adaptations of two of Benet’s short
stories and a theatrical trailer. Author, Tom Piazza leads with a brief essay
in print. Bottom line: a movie of grave social significance, unseen for
decades, but now presented for future generations to study, admire and
critique. Bottom line: highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">2</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-27909295303373854052024-03-15T19:44:00.007-04:002024-03-15T19:44:33.485-04:00THE SHOOTIST: Blu-ray (Dino De Laurentiis/Paramount, 1976) Arrow Academy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfF77HfzL9hXY48ygGf-Km4VdfFa96ZWEFIud_oBI3wAL5YYrPVI6ja4BNGdJIqiwwoiXDdI7pC2KGYxXDdbEYkQonf9MEn1nUQIslrV_g9kV9yXTbxUTLDdSfuf5bgvvmbps62AiO16xgaNi7m4j_eRSgkOhN4M5WU7y60LM-VowAUnoLwn7ibZJ_18/s1330/SHOOTIST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1330" data-original-width="1153" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfF77HfzL9hXY48ygGf-Km4VdfFa96ZWEFIud_oBI3wAL5YYrPVI6ja4BNGdJIqiwwoiXDdI7pC2KGYxXDdbEYkQonf9MEn1nUQIslrV_g9kV9yXTbxUTLDdSfuf5bgvvmbps62AiO16xgaNi7m4j_eRSgkOhN4M5WU7y60LM-VowAUnoLwn7ibZJ_18/w431-h498/SHOOTIST.jpg" width="431" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today, director Don
Siegel’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> (1976) is justly regarded as a seminal American
western classic. In its day, though critically well-received, it was little
more than a blip on the radar, despite a finely-nuanced performance from John
Wayne – his last – and arguably, in his ‘top ten’ all-time best. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Shootist</b>
</span>has other virtues, to be discussed momentarily. But Wayne, who in 1964 battled –
and beat - lung cancer (some say, owing to exposure to nuclear radiation while
making <b>The Conqueror</b> ten years earlier) endures as <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b>’s
chief selling feature; by ’76, a towering figure in the cinema firmament whose
reputation, though somewhat maligned in the liberalized counterculture thrust
against his staunch conservatism throughout the decade, nevertheless marked him
as a cultural touchstone of that fast-retreating, era in the picture-making
biz. Wayne would die 3 years after <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The
Shootist</span></b>, of stomach cancer, also, retrospectively attributed to that
infamous mid-fifties shoot in the desert.</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And while cancer has many paths, one cannot entirely
dismiss that out of 220 cast and crew who worked on <b>The Conqueror</b>, 91 were
later similarly stricken, 46 dying of some form of the disease. Coincidence? I
think not. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Though <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The
Shootist</span></b> indicates the final movie role for ‘<i>the Duke’</i>, it would not
be Wayne’s final public appearance. At 1978’s annual Oscar telecast, emcee, Bob
Hope (in <i>his</i> final tour of duty as Oscar’s gris eminence) paid tribute
to Wayne, then recovering from open-heart surgery. Reigning in his emotions,
Hope declared, <i>“Duke, we miss you here tonight. We expect to see you amble
out here in person next year, because nobody else can walk in John Wayne’s
boots.” </i>True to the spirit of the old west, or at least, Hollywood’s
glamorized version of it, Wayne did ‘amble out’ on Oscar’s stage for one last
hurrah, but sadly, died later that year, age 72, leaving the future of the
Hollywood western in question, but an irrefutable legacy of 175 movies – an unprecedented
number of them still revered within the annals of film lore. Now, that truly<i>
is</i> a body of work! Arguably, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> is among these hallowed
stars in Wayne’s crown. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is the only
time Wayne and Siegel worked together, conspiring on an adaptation of Glendon
Swarthout’s novel of the same name. Swarthout’s story had been a skillfully
executed critique into the working mind of a hired gun, arguably well passed
his prime and contemplating his mortality. To co-writers, Miles Hood Swarthout
(Glendon’s son) and Scott Hale’s credit, not to mention Wayne’s weathered,
though clear-eyed and unvarnished turn as John Bernard Books, much of this
inner tumult and sobering reflection remains poignantly intact. If nothing
else, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> is unsentimental, though gravely compassionate in its
swan song to the American west, and, to Wayne’s fictionalized glory days, galloping
over the sagebrush and tumbleweed. In the gritty epoch of the seventies, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The
Shootist</b> </span>is far removed from the pictorial magnificence of the bygone John
Ford/Howard Hawks’ painterly landscapes of yore. And yet, there is great
character here, a moody virtue, and, an unsettling reverence, and, perhaps most
gratifying of all, an unapologetic frankness, fragrant to the scruff and saddle
sect only to have truth eclipsed in an aftermath of unreasonable facsimiles,
masquerading as such. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">John Wayne’s
participation on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> seems a foregone conclusion. Indeed, producer,
Mike Frankovich noted Wayne’s passion to play the lead, as Book resembled Jimmy
Ringo, a part Wayne had turned down in <b>The Gunfighter</b> (1950) but later
regretted. However, Paramount was weary to hire Wayne, owing to his failing
health and stamina. This had plagued him during the making of his penultimate
pic, <b>Rooster Cogburn</b> (1975). So, Paramount pitched the project to talent
it believed could do better: Paul Newman, George C. Scott, Charles Bronson,
Gene Hackman, and Clint Eastwood. Everyone turned it down. So, Wayne’s name reentered
negotiations. Though a bout of influenza did sideline Wayne during the shoot,
his swift recovery did not cause any significant production delays. And
Paramount’s executive brain trust could not forsake the dailies, illustrating
Wayne had lost none of his true grit in the intervening years. Contrary to
rumors, Wayne was not dying of cancer at the time he made <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b>. True
enough, the cancer of ’64 necessitated the removal of Wayne’s left lung and
several ribs. But it succeeded at staving off the disease until 1979, when it
returned and rapidly spread to his stomach, intestines, and spine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">To accommodate
Wayne’s requests, various aspects of the original story were altered for the
movie. In the novel, Books is victorious but shoots his opponent in the back. The
character is then superficially wounded by a bartender and dispatched with
completely by Gillom – the young buck deemed his successor. Wayne insisted his
screen reputation would not allow him to murder a man from behind. He also
insisted the bartender – not Gillom - administer the fatal shot. Wayne also
insisted on costars with whom he had previously worked; Lauren Bacall, Richard
Boone, John Carradine, Hugh O’Brien, Harry Morgan and most notably, James
Stewart, who came out of retirement to partake. Wayne was also particular about
his horse; negotiating terms for his favorite sorrel gelding – Dollar – whom he
had ridden in <b>Big Jake, The Cowboys, True Grit, Rooster Cogburn, Chisum</b>,
and <b>The Train Robbers</b>. Paramount obliged its star on all counts. While rumors
abounded, regarding a tender friction between star and director, Siegel later expressed
his utmost respect for Wayne’s talent and contributions on the picture.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Plot wise: we
are introduced to John Bernard ‘J.B.’ Books, a sheriff-come-gunslinger who has
thirty-plus notches on his gun belt. Facing his emeritus years, Books arrives
in Carson City and is soon confronted with a robber he easily subdues. Not long
thereafter, Books faces down creamery owner, Jay Cobb (Bill McKinney) whose
assistant, Gillom Rogers (Ron Howard) skillfully negotiates a truce before
things can get out of hand. Books then pays a call on E.W. ‘Doc’ Hostetler
(James Stewart), the physician who treated his gunshot wounds fifteen years earlier.
Doc confirms Books is dying of cancer and has only weeks to live. Doc prescribes
laudanum for the pain, but knows Books condition will soon render its effects
moot. Under a false name, Books takes up
residency at a boarding house operated by Bond Rogers (Lauren Bacall), Gillom's
widowed mother. Gillom, however, unearths the truth about the man and informs mum,
who then summons Marshal Walter Thibido (Harry Morgan) to deal with the matter.
Books admits to his identity, but confides in Bond and Gillom, he is dying. He
also makes no apology for his life, explaining he only dispatched those who
deserved his particular brand of frontier justice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alas, it does
not take long before Books celebrity catches the tail fire of gossips. Local
journalist, Dan Dobkins (Rick Lenz) tries to do an interview, but is chased off
by Books. Meanwhile, Serepta (Sheree North) Books’ one-time lover, now asks to
marry him. Learning of her intent to co-author a biography, comprised largely
of fictionalized and lurid accounts of his life, Book rejects Serepta’s insincere
proposal. Instead, he orders a headstone from Beckum (John Carradine) but rebukes
the undertaker's offer to provide a free funeral, suspecting Beckum intends to
turn Books’ last rights into a carnival sideshow. Bond fears her son’s hero
worship of Books. Favoring the boy, Books teaches Gillom how to shoot, but
imparts the following wisdom, <i>“I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and
I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I
require the same from them.”</i> Books now instructs Gillom to visit three men,
Mike Sweeney (Richard Boone), an aging outlaw whose brother Books shot in
self-defense; lethal crack shot and Fargo dealer, Jack Pulford (Hugh O’Brien),
and, Cobb. Gillom is to tell all three, Books will be at the Metropole Saloon
at 11:00 am on January 29 – his birthday. Books bequeaths Gillom his beloved
horse, Ole Dollar, and departs the boarding house, presumably, for the last
time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arriving at the
saloon, Books finds Cobb, Pulford and Sweeney already arrived. Books orders the
finest whiskey and toasts his three ‘guests’. Cobb’s itchy trigger finger
causes him to make the first attempt on Books’ life. Distracting Cobb with a
bottle of whiskey, Books guns him down. Sweeney then successfully wounds Books
in the arm. But Books shoots through the table Sweeney is using as his shield,
killing him instantly. Pulford tries to sneak up on Books. Instead, Books
shoots him between the eyes. Having arrived at the Metropole in this aftermath,
Gillom is too late to warn the bartender also has a gun. Books is fatally shot
by the bartender. As he lays dying, Gillom takes up his fallen hero’s gun and
kills the bartender. Horrified, Gillom casts the firearm aside with Books
looking on in approval. Books dies and
Gillom shields his body with his own coat. Confronted by Bond outside, Gillom
hangs his head and walks by, Bond pursuing to comfort him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">While the tropes
of the traditional Hollywood western are well-trodden, and, as liberally
fermented, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> is uniquely positioned, never to veer into cliché.
It also revels into a disquieting dignity for the ancient art of imperfect
manly grace. The more ominous ramifications in Swarthout’s novel have been expunged.
This<i> is</i> a John Wayne movie, after all. And Wayne makes certain he goes
out ‘<i>with a bang’</i>, but on his own terms.
Under Siegel’s direction, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> is perhaps nostalgic for that
way of the gun, intermittently lightened in its looming pathos with black humor
supplied by Harry Morgan’s town marshal. But it does not cheat the audience of its
sobering epitaph. The mantle of quality is being passed to the next generation.
Bruce Surtees’ awe-inspiring cinematography
captures the wistfulness of the western mythology as well as its starker
reality, ably abetted by Robert F. Boyle and Arthur Jeph Parker’s production
design, and, composer, Elmer Bernstein’s phenomenally redolent underscore. This<i>
is</i> the west as it was, or rather, ought to have been, and fittingly the movie
to bid it and the man who inspired its’ folklore a heartfelt, if bittersweet goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arrow Academy
debuts John Wayne’s swan song on Blu-ray in a beautifully curated – if not
entirely perfect 1080p transfer sourced from an original 35mm negative. Colors
are rich and satisfying. The prologue is in B&W and looks every bit as good
as the color footage to follow it. Grain structure throughout is faithfully
represented, and, fine details pop as they should. One caveat to consider:
Paramount – the custodians of this master – have not rounded out their due
diligence with a little dust busting to finesse the ravages of time. Minute
speckling, tears and dirt are present, and, occasionally, distracting. The PCM
2.0 mono audio is adequate, but does contain recurrent distortions, pop and
hiss. Honestly, would it have broken the bank to just go the extra mile and complete
this restoration to mint satisfaction?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now for the good
stuff. Arrow has shelled out for a litany of extras that are, by far, some of
the most impressive assembled for a vintage catalog release. For starters,
there is Howard S. Berger’s audio commentary. It’s thorough, fascinating and
comprehensive. Definitely worth a listen. We get a nearly half-hour visual
essay by critic, David Cairns, a forty-plus-minute interview with noted Western
authority, C. Courtney Joyner, a nearly half-hour spent with historian/composer,
Neil Brand analyzing Elmer Bernstein’s score, and another almost-half-hour with
Scout Tafoya, deconstructing John Wayne’s mythology. Finally, from 2001, Arrow
has licensed the half-hearted, and just under 20-min. ‘making of’ Paramount
produced for its DVD release. Arrow rounds out our appreciation with a
beautifully assembled booklet featuring an essay by Philip Kemp, 48 stills, reproductions
of 6 lobby cards and, an original theatrical trailer, plus a fold-out of Richard
Amsel’s original movie poster art and a reimagined marketing campaign by Juan
Esteban Rodríguez. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Shootist</span></b> may not represent the
A-list of John Wayne’s formidable body of work. But it does manage, with
distinction, to remain an enviable tribute to the myth, the man and the legacy
he hath wrought. Great stuff here. And Arrow’s goodies make this an absolute ‘must
have’. Very – VERY – highly recommended. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">5++</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-62389620445846512702024-03-12T10:21:00.009-04:002024-03-12T11:12:33.137-04:00THE ABYSS: 4K UHD Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox, 1989) Disney Home Video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFM6Rc7DTRKFHVp_H1wcNw66i1MtB_eoHysMfWyiK6WlrAaQbDuPlP5lUWPA_BiEXB4x_PpTPx0zgm4Cfau8EH7-Sl0SikbWJixrMhjvVH4UhnOxCU82zzgTMnKhGhhUK0mzXaU4QOwmKU2fmzDNb49fE7gXWlGYJ9bFhd-ratOz6ZJX27hEvERTHm4hM/s2038/ABYSS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2038" data-original-width="1623" height="537" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFM6Rc7DTRKFHVp_H1wcNw66i1MtB_eoHysMfWyiK6WlrAaQbDuPlP5lUWPA_BiEXB4x_PpTPx0zgm4Cfau8EH7-Sl0SikbWJixrMhjvVH4UhnOxCU82zzgTMnKhGhhUK0mzXaU4QOwmKU2fmzDNb49fE7gXWlGYJ9bFhd-ratOz6ZJX27hEvERTHm4hM/w428-h537/ABYSS.jpg" width="428" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFM6Rc7DTRKFHVp_H1wcNw66i1MtB_eoHysMfWyiK6WlrAaQbDuPlP5lUWPA_BiEXB4x_PpTPx0zgm4Cfau8EH7-Sl0SikbWJixrMhjvVH4UhnOxCU82zzgTMnKhGhhUK0mzXaU4QOwmKU2fmzDNb49fE7gXWlGYJ9bFhd-ratOz6ZJX27hEvERTHm4hM/s2038/ABYSS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is safe to suggest
that when <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Abyss</b> </span>arrived in theaters in the dead heat of summer 1989,
it was <i>not </i>the movie director, James Cameron had intended audiences to
see. The idea for it had been bouncing around Cameron’s brain ever since he
read H.G. Wells 1897 short story about a sea alien and, at age 17, attended a
science lecture given by Francis J. Falejczyk, the first human to breathe
liquid through his lungs. Cameron’s fascination with underwater adventure
ultimate led him to write his own short story about a group of scientists toiling
in an undersea laboratory. While details of their excursion would ferment and
mutate in Cameron’s fertile imagination over the next decade, the basic premise
remained inviolate. While shooting <b>Aliens</b>,
Cameron’s verve for <b>The Abyss</b> was rekindled. Wedding his producer, Gale
Anne Hurd, Cameron dove headstrong into pre-production on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> in 1987
with many a sweaty palm in the front offices of 2oth Century-Fox over its
estimated $43 million budget. The marriage would last the shoot, though not the
premiere. Cameron and Hurd were divorced two months after principal photography
wrapped. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">For Cameron,
<span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Abyss</b> </span>came to represent a series of compromises. A planned Bahama
shoot proved out of the question as its sandy ocean floor prevented the sort of
controlled conditions for clarity required to lens the underwater sequences.
Though cast and crew did shoot preliminary footage in the Cayman Islands, the
bulk of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> would be photographed in specially constructed tanks at
South Carolina’s Gaffney Studios, including an abandoned nuclear reactor
containing 7.5 million gallons of water. The actual Deep Core rig, serving as
primary location, was then built over a 6-month period at a staggering cost of
$2 million and anchored to a 90-ton concrete column to keep it from floating to
the surface. Despite this meticulous planning, the set was not ready for the
first day’s shoot, forcing Cameron to delay and then, restructure his schedule
to take advantage of a smaller tank nearby. When the main tank ruptured,
spewing 150,000 gallons of water a minute, Cameron was again forced to suspend production
while a dam-repair company was called in to shore up the damage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">When principal
photography resumed, cinematographer, Mikael Salomon, employed three cameras in
watertight housing, submersed to a depth between 30 to 50 feet. It was a
grueling ordeal, with 70+ hours spent underwater, causing co-star, Mary
Elizabeth Mastrantonio to suffer a temporary emotional breakdown. Even Cameron,
as slavishly devoted to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> as he was, found the experience of it
arduous and trying. A lightning storm caused the set’s black tarpaulin to
rupture. Already behind schedule, Cameron switched to night shoots to
accommodate this loss. At one point, the over-chlorinated water caused skin
burns and exposed hair to turn white and fall out. Cast and crew began to crack
up or take out their frustrations on their dressing room furniture. Cameron did
attempt damage control. But his efforts were mostly squandered, with co-stars,
Mastrantonio and Ed Harris disowning the picture upon its release, and
Mastrantonio concluding, <i>“<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> was a lot of things. Fun to make
is not one of them.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is set in the ‘then’
not-so-distant future of 1994. After the U.S. Ohio-class submarine USS Montana
has an encounter with an unidentified submerged object and sinks near the
Cayman Trough, the U.S. government deploys a SEAL team to Deep Core, a
privately owned experimental underwater drilling platform to use as a base of
operations. Dr. Lindsey Brigman</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) insists on accompanying
the team, despite the fact this will place her in close proximity to Deep Core’s
foreman, her estranged husband, Virgil – a.k.a., ‘Bud’ (Ed Harris). However, during
their preliminary investigation of the Montana, Lindsey is drawn to an
ephemeral glow encircling the sub. SEAL team leader, Lt. Hiram Coffey (Michael
Biehn) deploys a mini-sub without Bud’s permission to recover a warhead from
the Montana. But a hellish storm at sea renders the crew unable to disconnect
from their surface support ship; its cable crane torn clean and toppling into
the trench, flooding Deep Core, rendering its power source in crisis and
killing several crew besides. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Coffey goes awol
and becomes paranoid about the extraterrestrial life force, which poses no
immediate harm. He launches the sub’s warhead into the trench, but drifts
beyond the point of no return and is imploded from the pressure. As Bud's
mini-sub is now inoperable and taking on water fast, Lindsey makes a daring
rescue that places her own life in jeopardy. She is spared and revived, using a
defibrillator and administered CPR. Now, the harrowing decision is made to go
after the warhead in the trench. Ensign Monk (Adam Nelson) aids Bud in an
experimental dive assisted only by Lindsey’s communication through a keypad. Alas,
Bud confesses to his wife this was always planned as a one-way trip, but tells
Lindsey he will always love her. Preparing for death, Bud is astonished when
the alien life force directs him to a massive underwater city where he is
spared. The base shakes with the arrival of the alien mother ship that rescues
Deep Core and its inhabitants, bringing everyone to the surface. There, Bud and
Lindsey are tearfully reunited.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cameron’s
original vision for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> contained an involved backstory better to
flesh out competing American/Soviet Union interests to reach the trench first
with the threat of an all-out war between the two superpowers. Meanwhile, at
the bottom of the sea, the aliens show Bud the planned Armageddon on earth they
intend to prevent by launching a mega-tsunami to strike the world’s coastal
regions. At the last possible moment, the tsunamis retreat, with the aliens
moved by Bud’s final message to Lindsey. The aliens then rescue Deep Core as
before, bringing everyone successfully to the surface. Fox studio execs were very nervous about the commercial
prospects of this version – more so when a sneak peek elicited laughter from
the cheap seats in the audience. Rumors abounded Fox had lost faith in the project
and were even more gravely concerned the picture’s skyrocketing budget
(estimated somewhere between $43 and 47 million) would not be recouped. They
had little to fear. Even at its formidable run time of 140 minutes, preventing
show times at peek theater attendance hours, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> went on to earn
$90 million.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Though it ranked
#2 for top-grossing opening weekend, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Abyss</b> </span>was not immediately
embraced by critics. Newsweek’s David Ansen led the negative charge, suggesting
the picture’s payoff was ‘damn silly’ – <i>“a portentous deus ex machina that
leaves too many questions unanswered and evokes too many other films.” </i>The
NY Times, Caryn James equated the experience to a carnival dark ride one was
forced to ride long after the thrill of it had worn thin, while the Toronto
Star’s editorial surmised, <i>“If we are to believe what Cameron finds way down
there, E.T. didn't really phone home, he went surfing and fell off his board.”</i>
Viewed today, it's difficult to dismiss all of the naysaying as sour grapes
from the peanut gallery. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> has its moments. And, fair enough, Cameron’s
devotion to it is evident in every frame on the screen. But the final result is
still, arguably, <i>not </i>the picture Cameron would have preferred. At its
best, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Abyss</b> </span>remains an awkward blend of the marital melodrama, the
sci-fi epic, and, the summer blockbuster/actioner all rolled together into one
sea-faring gumbo that occasionally fills to the gills with waterlogged finesse,
rather than to offer a truly immersive experience. Cameron’s director’s cut, eventually to get
its own theatrical release, does improve the picture’s continuity. It also
lends ballast to its more purposeful backstory. But it does not resolve the
fundamental flaw in Cameron’s pie-eyed optimism; the inference, an alien life
force would be so emotionally moved by the expenditure of affections between
two humans, as to spare the whole of humanity from its own war-mongering
apocalypse. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> arrives in 4K
UHD from Disney, and like the other two Cameron spectaculars to finally find a
home in hi-def, its digital premiere bears no earthly resemblance to the
theatrical presentation. Chiefly, and again, grain has been tinkered with, though,
and, as with the 4K’s of <b>Aliens</b> and <b>True Lies</b>, it has not been
expunged, but rather, somehow digitally finessed to a point where it is smooth
without ever sacrificing fine details. Colors pop. And the entire image sports
a shocking clarity that is viscerally engaging, with expertly balanced contrast
and an abundance of fine details coming to the forefront. Truly, there is
nothing to complain about here! Disney Inc., under their 2oth Century Studios
banner have also sprung for a Dolby Atmos mix. The 4K UHD contains both theatrical
and extended cuts of the movie, seamlessly branched. We also get a Blu-ray copy,
and a third Blu containing all of the curated special features that were a part
of Fox Home Video’s long defunct 2-disc Special Edition DVD. Though these
extras are now presented on Blu, they have not been improved upon from their
original 720i resolution. So, do not expect them to look great, or, in some
cases, even watchable. Still, it’s gratifying to have them ported over. Bottom
line: while an imperfect movie, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Abyss</span></b> in 4K is immaculate and a
thrilling visual experience. It’s about time! Very highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><br /></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-64700316094821297202024-03-10T15:57:00.013-04:002024-03-10T15:57:53.119-04:00ALIENS: 4K UHD Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox/Brandywine, 1986) Disney Home Video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircFaWNqtQcnGGGRbWYRMwquJ9CXO-6gGVzxlgvmRI4CflNLeMAhonL282CnEh6_WXHHqpNCAS6nBaDhAcHZkc2N19UlcdCXmEvZf4uKlJtfOycFB5kFLH-UrPJUBPbA0eqIpO4caxznk5S7_JOb0MHQQXyAMqyWJec5c1-R3atz4jF6a-mloCcV1kgS8/s1390/ALIENS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1390" data-original-width="1099" height="545" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircFaWNqtQcnGGGRbWYRMwquJ9CXO-6gGVzxlgvmRI4CflNLeMAhonL282CnEh6_WXHHqpNCAS6nBaDhAcHZkc2N19UlcdCXmEvZf4uKlJtfOycFB5kFLH-UrPJUBPbA0eqIpO4caxznk5S7_JOb0MHQQXyAMqyWJec5c1-R3atz4jF6a-mloCcV1kgS8/w431-h545/ALIENS.jpg" width="431" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ridley Scott’s <b>Alien</b>
(1979) had been one of the irrefutable highlights of the 1970’s, an epoch that
saw theater attendance slow to a trickle of what it had been only a decade before.
Pundits swarmed, declaring that, very soon, we would all be referencing the
participatory past of going to the theater in the same way we affectionately
looked upon the horse and buggy in the age of the gas-powered motorcar. Mercifully,
that end was not quite so near. And yet, despite its superior craftsmanship and
formidable take at the box office, the notion of a sequel to Scott’s
sci-fi/horror flick was not immediately apparent. Part of this hesitation
stemmed from 2oth Century-Fox’s downward spiral, its ever-evolving management
after the departure of Richard Zanuck and David Brown, threatening to shudder
the studio for good. After the departure of studio president, Alan Ladd Jr., incumbent
Norman Levy and Brandywine cofounder, David Giler voiced their own concerns;
that the demands of an even more costly sequel would sink the studio for good. This
argument was not without merit as receipts from horror movies had rapidly
declined throughout the early eighties. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">To complicate
matters, Giler and Brandywine co-founders, Walter Hill and Gordon Carroll were
in the process of suing Fox for unpaid profits from <b>Alien</b>. Eventually, a
settlement was struck, though again, not without considerable risk to place plans
for the sequel in immediate turnaround. Mercifully,
after Levy departed the studio, his successor, Joe Wizan was most enthusiastic
to revive the project. But it would be seven long years before Ellen Ripley,
winningly portrayed by Sigourney Weaver in the original, would reemerge in its follow-up,
this time in a manner befitting her status as a feminist crusader. By then, Ridley
Scott was out of the running. James Cameron, however, was very much in demand
and almost immediately seconded to the cause. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> (1986) would
continue Cameron’s upward trajectory after <b>The Terminator</b> (1984) and <b>Rambo:
First Blood Part II</b> (1985) had already solidified his reputation as a
masterful director/screenwriter. However, at the time <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> began its
gestation, the only proof of Cameron’s skill lay in a B-budgeted horror movie, <b>Piranha
II: The Spawning</b> (1982). This failed to impress either Wizan or his successor,
Lawrence Gordon, though Gordon did, at least, recognize there was still money
to be made if <b>Alien</b> were to become a franchise. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">A 9-month delay
in the start date of <b>The Terminator</b>, to accommodate Arnold Schwarzenegger’s
commitments on <b>Conan: The Destroyer</b> allowed Cameron to go back and rework
his treatment for the <b>Alien</b> sequel which he also aspired to direct.
Cameron’s agent warned against it, suggesting any positive feedback to the new
movie would likely be attributed to the inspiration of Ridley Scott, while anything
negative would likely be blamed on Cameron for tinkering with the ‘tried and
true’ formula. Undaunted, Cameron forged ahead, concurring with producer, Anne
Hurd that the new movie should combine horror with a more ruthless approach to
the action sequences. Fox chairman, Barry Diller liked what he read in Cameron’s
treatment. He was, however, gravely concerned about the $35 million projected
budget and suggested fifteen or even twelve million would suffice. To this
suggestion, Hurd and Cameron resigned, plying their clout and persuasion to get
into Diller’s good graces with a more feasible account. The hard-balling
continued with Sigourney Weaver’s salary demands to reprise her role. When
negotiations reached an impasse, Cameron bluffed, suggesting his screenplay
could easily be reworked for Arnold Schwarzenegger. Weaver’s agent retreated
and Weaver was paid $1.4 million to return to the fold. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fox exec’,
Lawrence Gordon green-lit the picture. But <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> would be shot at
Pinewood Studios in England, with a projected budget of $18.5 million. Yet,
almost immediately, Cameron’s slavish and workhorse-like precision clashed with
the Brit’s more leisurely pace of doing things. Frustrated, Cameron’s fastidiousness,
as well as his constant tinkering with the pace and length of certain scenes in
the editing room, suffered its most notable casualty in composer, James Horner’s
allotment of time to write and record the score. Horner had worked with Cameron
much earlier for director, Roger Corman. But now, Cameron’s constant
experimenting in the editing room cut the actual time afforded Horner to think
up cues, reduced from six to three weeks – a daunting task by any stretch of
the imagination. As prior contractual obligations had Horner writing the score
for <b>The Name of the Rose</b>, he hastened to get his ideas for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b>
into a recording suite with the London Symphony Orchestra at Abbey Road Studios.
Alas, Cameron was not entirely pleased with these results. Without Horner’s
compliance, or even his participation, Cameron proceeded to Ginsu Horner’s
cues, replacing some with Jerry Goldsmith’s original tracks from <b>Alien</b>,
and, snippets arranged by other ‘unknown’ talent to create a sort of evolving
hybrid, more to Cameron’s liking. The remaining unused portions of Horner’s
contributions on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> would later resurface in Fox’s <b>Die Hard</b>
(1988).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> opens with Ellen
Ripley in a 57-year-old stasis aboard her escape shuttle from the alien-infected
spacecraft, Nostromo. Revived, then debriefed
by Carter J. Burke (Paul Reiser), a middling exec working for the
Weyland-Yutani Corporation, though highly skeptical about Ripley’s claim there
are alien eggs inside a derelict ship on the exomoon LV-426, since transformed
into a gloomy terraforming colony, concerns fester after the corporation loses
all contact with their satellite colony. Connivingly, Burke gets Ripley to
agree to return to search for survivors, with a military escort provided by Colonial
Marine Lieutenant Gorman (William Hope). Among the new recruits are Colonial Hudson
(Bill Paxton) – cocky, but easily spooked, Corporal Dwayne Hicks (Michael Biehn
in a role originally slated for James Remar), Sergeant Apone (Al Matthews), Privates
Frost (Ricco Ross),</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Vasquez (Jenette Goldstein), Drake (Mark Rolston),
Spunkmeyer (Daniel Kash), Crowe (Tip Tipping), and Wierzbowski (Trevor
Steedman), and an android, Bishop (Lance Henriksen). Ripley is suspicious of
Bishop, as the android aboard the Nostromo in the original movie had betrayed its
crew. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Upon their
arrival to LV-426, Ripley and her cohorts quickly discover the colony seemingly
abandoned. Within the medical lab, they find two preserved facehuggers in
containment tanks, and a shellshocked little girl, Ripley nicknames, Newt
(Carrie Henn). It isn’t long before Hicks and the others discover the remains
of the colonists covered in alien secretions in the bowels of the fusion plant,
their bodies serving as incubators for more alien offspring. The Marines
assault the colony, but are ambushed by a litany of full-grown adult aliens.
One by one, the marines are picked off. Meanwhile, Burke’s shortsightedness
strands Ripley and the survivors after their rescue craft crash lands on the
tarmac. After Gorman suffers a PTSD meltdown, Ripley assumes command, unearthing
the truth behind their mission. Burke ordered the colonists to recover the
eggs, hoping to harness them as a biological weapon. After the others are
asleep, Ripley and Newt awaken to find themselves cornered by the liberated
facehuggers Burke hopes will impregnate them with their eggs to smuggle back to
earth. Instead, Ripley dispatches with the facehuggers. Another assault from
the adult aliens and Newt is separated from Ripley. In her rescue attempt,
Ripley comes face to face with the alien queen surrounded by scores of eggs on
the verge of hatching. Unleashing her arsenal of weaponry on the offspring and
the queen, Ripley races back to the ship with Newt. LV-426 is consumed in a
nuclear holocaust, with only Ripley, Hicks, Newt and Bishop having survived.
Alas, the queen has also found her way into the cargo hold. She tears Bishop in
half and advances on Ripley, who dons an exosuit cargo-loader to force the
queen into an airlock before jettisoning her into space. Ripley, Newt, Hicks,
and what remains of Bishop enter hyper-sleep for their return home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Interestingly,
Cameron’s sequel would emerge from this artistic fray as one of the most
celebrated of any sci-fi movie, earning a Best Actress Oscar nod for Sigourney Weaver
at a time when the genre was still generally considered the red-headed
stepchild of Hollywood. And <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> intake - a whopping $183.3 million - made
it one of the highest-grossing pics of the season. Viewing <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens </span></b>today,
its’ reputation as a finely wrought and truly terrifying dark masterpiece
remains unaffected. Alas, Cameron’s standing as a caustic and offensive task
master in pursuit of perfection also endures, and, was muchly maligned on the
set back in ‘86. It could, however, not be ignored. When cinematographer, Dick
Bush contradicted Cameron’s request to moodily light the queen’s lair, he was
promptly replaced by Adrian Biddle; ditto for assistant director, Derek
Cracknell, prompting the entire Pinewood crew to walk off the set. Begrudgingly,
everyone came back after their grievances had been settled. And although the
reception remained frosty until the final day’s shoot, Cameron had the final
word when, in his farewell address, rather than give thanks for everyone’s
participation, he haughtily suggested that <i>“…the one thing that kept me
going was the certain knowledge that one day I would drive out the gate of
Pinewood and never come back, and that you sorry bastards would still be here!”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like <b>True
Lies</b>, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> finally marks its 4K UHD Blu-ray release. Unlike <b>True
Lies</b>, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> was previously given a stand-alone Blu-ray, and, a box
set from Fox Home Video in 2014. As before, this 4K set includes both the
theatrical and director’s cuts of the movie – restoring some 17 minutes of
footage Fox deemed either too violent or too superfluous for audiences to
tolerate. Viewing the 4K is a markedly different experience. In much the same
way Paramount reimagined <b>The Godfather Trilogy</b> for 4K,<span style="color: #ffa400;"> <b>Aliens</b></span> has
been given the ‘once over’ with a litany of digital clean-up tools that have de-grained
Biddle’s original cinematography. Important to note, nothing has been lost in
terms of fine detail. It's the grain that’s gone – or rather, and somehow,
massaged to a point where those averse to grain itself are likely to very much
enjoy seeing <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> with a fresh pair of eyes. As a purist, I’m torn.<b> <span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> in 4K
looks exceptionally nuanced and is a breathtaking visual experience with deeply
saturated colors, expertly timed contrast and superbly rendered detail. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">That stated, it
looks absolutely nothing like it did, either theatrically, or as reincarnated
from that expertly rendered Blu from Fox in 2014. The audio has been sweetened
with a Dolby Atmos upgrade. This is all to the good and colossally satisfying. Wow! Do the subs get a workout here! Disney
Inc., the custodians of the Fox library, have given us everything from the past
editions of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b>, including Cameron’s commentary and a bonus disc housing
hours of ‘making of’ content – featurettes, outtakes, test footage, trailers,
etc. - that was a part of the aforementioned SE Blu. Aside: I do hope the
comprehensiveness on show here trickles down to Disney’s mindset regarding
their own deep catalog, much of it shorn of extras since making their leap to
standard Blu. But I digress. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Aliens</span></b> in 4K UHD is a revelation of sorts. It
isn’t the movie you remember from ’86. But it arguably looks better than it
ever has, while still retaining its original thrills. Bottom line: highly
recommended.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">4</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-48547745635747014182024-03-10T11:56:00.010-04:002024-03-10T11:56:51.434-04:00TRUE LIES: 4K UHD Blu-ray Combo (2oth Century-Fox/Lightstorm, 1994) Disney Home Video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjUtoM74f5d_YH5vzsvnhu8zXkgCjrCRFAPVr96kCnCBvQ28S7S1x-JbIg_hQgzgwzM9_vR4kHpTTZ_LWDhHgTvQJguaol3WuJskdW-sUVD2p8EgZyeLABmpXeFPgw5m1ygpl2TPeXMf01lfz9yLXsGcDqNfu2RAIoJ0JnTKAyy7RNO0CogKOGpOYW8Y/s1393/TRUE%20LIES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="1103" height="561" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjUtoM74f5d_YH5vzsvnhu8zXkgCjrCRFAPVr96kCnCBvQ28S7S1x-JbIg_hQgzgwzM9_vR4kHpTTZ_LWDhHgTvQJguaol3WuJskdW-sUVD2p8EgZyeLABmpXeFPgw5m1ygpl2TPeXMf01lfz9yLXsGcDqNfu2RAIoJ0JnTKAyy7RNO0CogKOGpOYW8Y/w444-h561/TRUE%20LIES.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">When the last is
written on the career of muscle-man/action hero, Arnold Schwarzenegger, let it
not be said he left any stone unturned in maximizing his appeal as Hollywood’s
he-hunk du jour. Despite some earlier forays to immortalize various members
from the bodybuilding community on celluloid, and the near instant
proliferation of muscle-heads who tried - mostly in vane - to tote
Schwarzenegger’s dumbbells, there has never been, nor likely ever again to be,
as towering a figure in the transmigration from bodybuilding legend into the
annals of movieland lore. The trick was not in marketing Schwarzenegger’s girth
– self-evident from the moment he entered – and filled – any room with rippling
mounds of prime beefcake. Rather, it was Arnold’s ability to make light of the
fact he possessed such an enviable physique. Also, his desire to do more with
it than simply flex into the camera, and yes – that winning personality, adept
at comedy as well as drama. All this leant his career its essential ballast.
The proof, arguably, of how little it mattered Schwarzenegger had once hailed
from bodybuilding royalty is in director, James Cameron’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b> (1994)
– a powerhouse actioner with brains to compliment the brawn. Cameron,
instrumental in elevating the stature of Arnold’s career with <b>The Terminator</b>
(1984) – a watershed in sci-fi/action pics – had more recently, then, reteamed for
its follow-up, <b>Terminator II: Judgement Day</b> (1991), but now turned to
Schwarzenegger again, for an action spectacular not altogether to rely on his
star’s physical prowess to sell the picture.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ratcheting up
the gamble, Arnold keeps his cloths on in this one. There is not a single
gratuitous beefcake moment in which the audience is allowed to ogle Arnold’s
musculature. Instead, Cameron’s screenplay, loosely based on the 1991 French
comedy, <b><i>La Totale!</i></b>, weighs in on presenting a refined persona for
Schwarzenegger – not, as the lone hulk, but rather, as Harry Tasker, the domesticated
hubby of Helen (winningly realized by Jamie Lee Curtis) with a typical teenage
daughter, Dana (Eliza Dushku) in tow. To both, Harry is just a good-natured, if
slightly dull, middle-class tech salesman working for shoot-from-the-hip
sidekick, Albert Gibson (Tom Arnold). Secretly, however, Harry and Al are
American spies involved in some top secret, counterterrorist espionage to keep
the world safe for democracy. But when Harry’s double lives suddenly collide,
everything goes to hell. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b>
marked a few ‘firsts’ in Hollywood. It was the first movie to be made by
Cameron’s own company, Lightstorm, under a multi-million-dollar agreement with
distributor, 2oth Century-Fox. It was also the first to utilize a litany of
special effects created by Cameron’s other venture, Digital Domain. And last,
it was the first flick in film history to cost a whopping $100 million to
produce. Every dollar is up there on the screen, save the salaries afforded
Cameron, his two aforementioned stars, and supporting players Bill Paxton, Art
Malik, and Tia Carrere – the latter, excellent as ruthless viper, Juno Skinner.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is a lot of fun,
with Cameron allowing Arnold much latitude for his comedic chops. We begin with
Harry Tasker, or rather, the man we all believe Harry Tasker to be – just a
successful software salesman, frequently called away on ‘business.’ Helen is pretty forgiving of Harry’s absences
until she begins to incorrectly suspect he might be straying in his marital vows.
But actually, Harry, along with best bud, Al Gibson, and, sidekick, Faisil
(Grant Heslov) are U.S. spies working for Omega Sector, a counterterrorism
agency. Together, they infiltrate a Swiss gala hosted by billionaire, Jamal
Khaled (Marshall Manesh). In his white tux, Harry cuts a dashing figure, attracting
the attentions of Juno Skinner, Khaled's art dealer. In reality, Juno is part
of Crimson Jihad, a terrorist cell led by Salim Abu Aziz (Art Malik). Feigning
interest in art, Harry entertains Juno, setting up the terrorists to plot his
assassination. Victorious in warding off the attack, Harry loses sight of Aziz.
On the home front, Harry also misses the surprise birthday party Helen and Dana
had planned for him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Endeavoring to
smooth over matters, Harry instead overhears Helen making a clandestine rendezvous
with someone named Simon (Bill Paxton). Suspecting his latest absence has
pushed Helen into the arms of another man, Harry uses Omega Sector resources to
unearth Simon is actually a used car salesman who feigns at being a covert
agent to seduce women. In disguise, Harry and several Omega agents take Helen
and Simon hostage. Reduced to tears, Simon agrees to keep away from Helen. But Harry
discovers his wife is grappling with her own midlife crisis, desperate for some
excitement to come into her humdrum life. To placate her, Harry arranges for
Helen to partake in a staged spy mission for a mysterious figure. Too bad for all concerned, Aziz’s henchmen
take Harry and Helen hostage off the Florida Keys. Juno’s true intentions are
now revealed, working for Crimson Jihad to smuggle nuclear warheads in antique
statues. These will be detonated in various U.S. cities. Harry is administered
a truth serum and confesses his double life to Helen. Learning the first
warhead is set to explode in 90-minutes, Harry breaks free and skillfully wipes
out most of Aziz’s men, though Aziz escapes with the warhead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Helen is captured
by Juno and taken aboard a limousine in Aziz’s convoy. Gib and Omega agents rescue
Harry but take out a portion of the Seven Mile Bridge. The limo careens over its
decimated edge, though not before Helen is rescued by Harry. The warhead on the
island detonates, harming no one. Now, Harry learns Aziz is holding Dana captive
atop a Miami skyscraper. Commandeering a fighter jet, Harry launches a daring
rescue. Posing as a news cameraman on the ground, Faisil assassinates Aziz’s
guards while Dana steals the missile key and escapes to the rooftop, scaling a
tower crane before being saved by her father. Predictably, Harry dispatches
with Aziz and the remnants of Crimson Jihad. We fast track one year later. Helen
has joined Omega, working with her husband on his next daring mission. The pair
encounters Simon, now employed as a waiter, but still pretending to be a spy.
Seeing Harry again, Simon flees in fear. Harry and Helen engage in the same
tango Harry danced the year before with Juno as Gib pleads over Harry’s hidden
earpiece for the couple to take their work more seriously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">All the pistons
are firing on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b>. James Cameron seems particularly engaged in
this actioner with an attitude. His unrelenting work ethic bodes well with Schwarzenegger’s
own slavish devotion to get the subtler nuances of his character just right.
Arnold’s attributes aside, the joys to be had here involve Jamie Lee Curtis and
Tom Arnold, each hamming it up for the camera with a joyous finesse for the
absurdity in the exercise. Curtis is supremely entertaining as the milquetoast
mom come hard-won crusader for her husband’s affections. Helen’s faux erotic
pole dance, performed in half shadow for a man she is, as yet, unaware is
actually her husband, is a hoot. Here, Curtis pulls out all the stops, writhing
in simulated sweat, before accidentally failing to connect with the bed pole
and, instead, landing on her ass in the middle of her erotic seduction. Helen’s
immediate recovery is remarkable and hilarious. Tom Arnold’s usually glib
persona is allowed its share of loaded barbs in Cameron’s screenplay, including
Gib’s insistence Harry has lost control over Dana’s upbringing. In his absence,
her new parents are <i>“Alex Rose and Madonna.”</i> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">That <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True
Lies</span></b> has remained absent from public view for so long is a minor mystery,
and frankly, a colossal insult to the creative talents that went into making it.
It is, arguably, Schwarzenegger’s best movie to date – and likely to remain so.
At the time, it raked in a cool $378 million at the box office, making it the third
highest-grossing picture of the year. In addition to high praises for
Schwarzenegger and Cameron, Jamie Lee Curtis was honored with a Golden Globe. Though
<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b> did receive a thoroughly skin-flint DVD release in 1997, the
events of 9-11, 2001 seemed to put a damper of Fox’s ability to reissue it with
a straight face on any competing home video format in the intervening decades.
Despite a rabid fanbase, eager to embrace the picture in all its former glory,
Fox’s insistence that some of its contents was somehow, obtusely ‘offensive’ to
Muslims, as well as Cameron’s prior commitments on other projects preventing
him from personally supervising a new master, ensured <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>True Lies</b> </span>would
remain in limbo for decades to follow. Oddly enough, the ‘offensive’ argument
has since fallen by the waste side as, indeed, it should. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b> does
lean rather heavily on the trope of terrorism coming from the Middle East
(like, no kidding – it’s a patriotic, flag-waving actioner made in America, not
Jakarta). However, that it declares its’ menace from afar does not infer all
Muslims are terrorists. Enough said. Besides, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b> was a monumental
undertaking in its day, earning the fastidious Cameron newfound respect within
the industry, as well as a Saturn for Best Director and Oscar nods besides. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Viewed today, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True
Lies</span></b> remains a technically proficient, expertly executed and exhilarating
actioner with guts, gusto and grit – the elementals of a true masterpiece in
the genre. It owes something of a nod to the James Bond franchise – but does
not go so far down that rabbit hole as to be considered a cheap knockoff. And
now, thanks to Disney Inc., the custodians of the Fox catalog, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b>
arrives – not only on Blu-ray, but 4K UHD. The original theatrical release of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True
Lies</span></b> was shot on 35mm film stock, later blown up to 70mm for limited
engagements. The 4K is sourced from…well…likely 35mm original camera negatives.
And it sports a refurbished image that surely shows off Russell Carpenter’s
high-key-lit cinematography to its very best advantage. Colors pop. Contrast is
uniformly excellent. Fine detail abounds. There is a grain structure here. But
it is so incredibly refined as to lend the image homogenized smoothness. This
may or may not be in keeping with the original theatrical presentation. Sorry,
but it’s been thirty-some years since I saw this at the show. Hence, my memory
of it is a tad rusty. What <i>is </i>here looks rock solid and gorgeous. So,
definitely up to current 4K mastering standards. Prepare to be dazzled; also,
by this disc’s 5.1 DTS audio design. Some will poo-poo Disney did not go the
extra mile for a reimagined Dolby Atmos. Fear not – this sounds about as immersive
and earth-shattering as one might expect. Disney has shelled out – a bit – for a
retrospective, and also included vintage featurettes as extras. So, nicely
done. Bottom line: it’s taken far, far too long for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">True Lies</span></b> to arrive
on home video in a manner befitting its status and reputation. This 4K UHD
rectifies that unforgiveable sin in spades, and, is a ‘must have.’ Very – VERY –
highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">3</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-20498836613559570892024-02-21T07:02:00.009-05:002024-02-21T07:02:36.149-05:00PUMPING IRON: Blu-ray reissue (White Mountain/Cinema 5, 1977) ViaVision <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMwMvXQa-ybb_sjidYsI9fNQHUFeyH5sSE4roBrWNySW9v4IarhFr0Mzgat9nt7sUvugByohRgKMIcCoMe_Dj-ceTmZm46IbojmeAru-oanczbzS28-rgQV5E0ul3U8EUjA_Sv1TOGb7DIh3GBjXkz5ljX9o16YHvmvJF1ZBSbB6AaEsD3x6KZ7WJy8s/s1400/PI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1096" height="543" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMwMvXQa-ybb_sjidYsI9fNQHUFeyH5sSE4roBrWNySW9v4IarhFr0Mzgat9nt7sUvugByohRgKMIcCoMe_Dj-ceTmZm46IbojmeAru-oanczbzS28-rgQV5E0ul3U8EUjA_Sv1TOGb7DIh3GBjXkz5ljX9o16YHvmvJF1ZBSbB6AaEsD3x6KZ7WJy8s/w426-h543/PI.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The psychology
of what it takes to become a champion is at the crux of George Butler’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping
Iron</span></b> (1977), a documentary shot on a shoe-string, centered on the ‘then’
freakish art of bodybuilding. Originally an ensemble piece, Butler quickly
found a star among the pack on which to refine his narrative focus, following
the exploits – both on and off the circuit – of a 28-year-old unknown: Arnold
Schwarzenegger, as he religiously trained for his sixth consecutive Mr.
Olympia. Actually, Butler’s original intent was to legitimize the sport of
bodybuilding by presenting a portrait of the camaraderie and competitive spirit
involved to train the male physique as close to possible human perfection.
Naturally, the topic of steroids never entered this conversation in 1977, the
proverbial elephant in a room full of giants fetishized for their impossibly
sculpted and rippling muscularity. Interestingly, the nature of sports
conditioning had morphed into the sport of bodybuilding by the mid-1950’s. The
physical fitness craze was kicked off by Charles Atlas. Remember all those depictions
of the proverbial 90 lbs. weakling having sand kicked in his face by a beach
bully? This proved the motivating factor for a cottage industry, wimps to be
transformed into the epitome of masculine chic through a regiment of hard work
and proper dieting. In the movies, a human Goliath was also emerging. The
charismatic Steve Reeves, whose stunningly proportionate physique became the
stuff of legend after his triumph in the sword and sandal quickie - <b>Hercules</b>
(aka – <b>The Labors of Hercules</b>, 1958).
Yet, despite a steady string of muscle men attempting to follow in
Reeves’ footsteps, bodybuilding remained a fad with the general public; a
superficial pursuit quietly aligned with the closeted gay community, and,
mis-perceived for the otherwise socially inept and insecure who, shielded by
their sinewy girth, could pretend at playing the part of the superhero among us.
Then, along came Arnold Schwarzenegger. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In hindsight, it
is easy to see why Schwarzenegger has had the career that would ultimately make
him one of Hollywood’s biggest superstars of the 80’s, and, thereafter, a
household name in two fields – bodybuilding and the movies. Schwarzenegger,
nicknamed ‘<i>the Austrian Oak’</i> is in rare form in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> –
both physically and charismatically. And, it is largely due to his enigmatic
personality that the otherwise plotless and rather threadbare narrative of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping
Iron</span></b> succeeds to amuse and enlightened. Arnold gets in his digs – outfoxing
fellow competitors Lou Ferrigno and Mike Waller, while equating the intense
‘pump’, derived from hoisting heavy poundage, to the act of consummating a
sexual relationship with a beautiful woman. If it were only for the pastime of
seeing how Schwarzenegger began his illustrious career, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b>
would already have a lot going for it. However, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Pumping Iron</b> </span>also
managed to transcend the then widely held – and lowly – opinion of bodybuilding
as nothing more than a carnival sideshow. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> proved the
catalyst that kick-started a national craze for ‘getting in shape’. And this, continues to be its legacy. The
muscle-building supplement industry alone is a billion-dollar enterprise today,
to say nothing of the commerce derived from ‘self-help’ workout instructional
manuals, fitness clothing and other paraphernalia, the mainstreaming of gym
culture – and yes – black market proliferation of illegal steroid use that, in
the interim, has all but swallowed and spat out the sport of bodybuilding from
both sides of the controversy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is fairly
safe to say that without <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b>, Schwarzenegger’s ascendency as
one of the most widely identified pop icons of the 20th century would not have
been nearly half as swift or assured. Observing Arnold and his cohorts go
through their slavishly regimented devotion to the ‘body beautiful’ is a bit
like going to church – bodybuilding, a religion by choice for a certain sect of
men who find themselves between the proverbial rock (trying to live prosperous
lives outside of the sport), and, the ‘hard place’ (coming in second during
those fleeting moments of competition – the net result of all their arduous
months, years – and in some cases – decades of hard work dashed against their
hopes to be famous – if only for the briefest of wrinkles in time). Of the
multitude of memorable faces – at least for those who follow the sport of
bodybuilding, only two would go on to possess an afterlife outside of the gym:
Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno (TV’s forever <b>Incredible Hulk</b>). In their
wake, others aimed to have a career outside of bodybuilding. Alas, none were to
manage this holy grail of immortality. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bodybuilding
since <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Pumping Iron</b> </span>– and regrettably so – has unraveled into what it
desperately feared to avoid – becoming a freak show. Body aesthetics have given
way the ‘mass monsters’ and an insidious cult to become grotesquely musclebound;
tragically, with an incredible loss of life directly correlated to the
overindulgence of synthetic drugs. Today’s bodybuilder is neither interested
nor concerned with achieving proportionate musculature; rather, consumed by an
obsessive quest to pack on as much synthetically enhanced mass so the resultant
architecture of the male body does not even remotely resemble its human form.
While Schwarzenegger and his compatriots were circumspect about steroids, no
bodybuilder today pretends they are ‘naturally’ blessed with good solid
genetics, triggered to bulk with the advent of hard work promoted in the gym.
They merely skirt the issue in silence and pray their transparency will not
find its way into a federal indictment for illegal possession/distribution/use
and abuse of these powerful anabolics, temporarily to have lent them their
girth. Perhaps most alarming of all is the rising death toll within the
bodybuilding community since <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b>, many dying in their early
thirties or even late twenties from this fanatical pursuit to achieve
cartoonish/superhero physical infamy, plastered on the covers of every <i>Muscle
& Fitness</i> magazine. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In retrospect, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping
Iron</span></b> is a time capsule and cultural touchstone, bridging the gap between
bodybuilding’s ‘novice era’ and our present age of meaner, steroid-inflated
bo-hunks intent on achieving infamy with their morbidly massive physiques. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Pumping
Iron</b> </span>hails from a moment in time when bodybuilding had the potential to go
mainstream. Most definitely, Schwarzenegger’s congenial promotion of the
‘attainable’ was a myth. Decades later, shorn of much of his girth, and having
segued from movie hulk into a political leviathan, Schwarzenegger was far more
open to discussing the liberal use of the more primitive steroids that helped
to build him into the role model for an entire generation of fitness freaks. Nevertheless,
<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> today remains a fascinating documentary about bodybuilding
as both a sport and an aesthetic value - long before either were considered
chic. It is a captivating snapshot of these forerunners to a craze that spawned
an industry, but was then swamped by its own manic pursuit of ‘bigger is better’
in search of human perfection.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some years ago,
HBO Home Video released a 25th Anniversary of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> on DVD. The
results, to say the very least, were wanting. Lionsgate has since released a
‘region free’ Blu-ray, distributed by Australian provider, ViaVision/Madman
Home Video. Be aware: there is a competing version of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> with
different cover art. The contents and quality are identical. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b>
was shot on a shoe-string for about $1 million – even by 1977’s standards, a
paltry sum. And while cinematographer, Robert Fiore has managed a document with
a certain crude, though no less visceral visual finesse, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b>
was never intended to yield high key-lit sequences on par with a
fully-funded/Hollywood-made exposé on the sport of bodybuilding. That said,
there are moments in this 1080p Blu-ray transfer where the grainy texture of
the cinematography takes on a slightly digitized appearance – the grain, more
gritty than indigenous to its source. Flesh tones are rather problematic. Yes,
the competitors here all sport a combination of genuine sun-kissed, and born
from a bottle tan. So, ruddy orange to dark brown is rather the norm when
Arnold and friends step on stage for their pose-downs. But color fidelity on
the whole is wanting, the entire image exhibiting a less than robust palette.
Contrast too anemic. Could this have looked better? Marginally, perhaps. Does
it look awful? Well, no. It looks like a cultural artifact from the 1970’s – a
little worse for the wear with the passage of time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The DTS mono
audio is adequate, with obvious limitations. Again, not a lot was spent to
create stellar soundtracks. HBO’s DVD reissued <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> with a
re-channeled 5.1 Dolby Digital. This Blu-ray contains only the theatrical 2.0
mono. It is sufficient. Sorely missed: a plethora of extras that accompanied
the 25th anniversary DVD. The only extras here are ‘<b><i>Hard Science of
Bodybuilding’</i></b> and ‘<b><i>Still Pumping’</i></b> – two truncated
featurettes made in the mid-1990’s and plagued by horrendous video upscaling,
resulting in all sorts of digitally harsh imagery that ought to have been
corrected – or at least stabilized - before either was slapped to disc. We also
get the movie’s original theatrical trailer. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Pumping Iron</span></b> remains
as a fascinating glimpse into the art and science behind bodybuilding. Its
audience appeal is farther reaching than that, and, for those who are still
fascinated by Arnold before he became California’s Governor Schwarzenegger,
this is at least part of the story behind the man and the sport on which he
built a movie-land career to last the ages.
Recommended for content. The Blu-ray is a bit of a disappointment,
however.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p><br /> <br /></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-6353948548112371662024-02-20T21:01:00.005-05:002024-02-20T21:08:25.599-05:00GUNFIGHT AT THE O.K. CORRAL: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, 1957) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKm0yMsHGfBRn0v3A2JApVojiAM-bk1IAfQZm4Oa1P6gO3RQ6Bdqr8bfPPmSUqgMlNMTz9VIFT5wE5GAqzzPP9GZ19NJeFxj-TnPB9_A2ZyBe195okPgdbUc1GAMDa7oa1QqeLrUdcDGItWnXzuZGPmavu3Uze4eHd4OzxYbmOZqXUS5FR3GxGyYEqHg/s1392/GUNFIGHT%20AT%20THE%20OK%20CORRAL.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1392" data-original-width="1080" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKm0yMsHGfBRn0v3A2JApVojiAM-bk1IAfQZm4Oa1P6gO3RQ6Bdqr8bfPPmSUqgMlNMTz9VIFT5wE5GAqzzPP9GZ19NJeFxj-TnPB9_A2ZyBe195okPgdbUc1GAMDa7oa1QqeLrUdcDGItWnXzuZGPmavu3Uze4eHd4OzxYbmOZqXUS5FR3GxGyYEqHg/w434-h560/GUNFIGHT%20AT%20THE%20OK%20CORRAL.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">With its rather
deceptive title inferring a more epic accounting of that fateful day etched in
western lore – the famous ‘gunfight’ lasting barely fifteen-minutes on screen –
director, John Sturges’ <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight at the O.K. Corral</span></b> (1957) promises a
lot more than it delivers. And yet, it still manages to remain a fairly
involving melodrama, frequently anchored in the minutia leading up to that oft
told, unusual, if undeniably enduring friendship between gambler, Doc Holliday
and squeaky-clean lawman, Wyatt Earp. Of the many cinematic incarnations this
story has taken on over the years, Struges’ reincarnation arguably remains one
of the most star-studded and lavishly appointed – tricked out in Technicolor
and Paramount’s patented VistaVision ‘motion picture high fidelity’ widescreen
process. In keeping with Hollywood’s edicts of its day, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight at the O.K.
Corral</span></b> is a glamorous affair. The west, as depicted here, is a brightly
lit, cozily rustic backwater, with its glitzy saloon gals rubbing against
craggy cowboys who’ve yet to incur even a speck of dust on their chaps. Hal Pereira and Walter Tyler’s production
design, Sam Comer and Arthur Krams’ set decoration and Edith Head’s recherché
costumes instead offer an eerily immaculate milieu, thoroughly out of touch
with the dusty/lusty west of reality. Those seeking a more faithful
representation of that dry rot and tumbleweed should watch Kevin Jarre and
George P. Cosmatos’ impeccably crafted <b>Tombstone</b> (1993), because the
west in ‘<b><i><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight</span></i></b>’ is…well…pretty and pretty damn tidy to boot.
Even Boot Hill takes on the Disneyland derivative of Frontier-land as do Fort
Griffin, Dodge City and the aforementioned town of Tombstone, transformed into
tourist attractions that just happen to be populated by lawless gunslingers,
happy harlots and virtuous marshals, ready to forsake personal happiness in
order to maintain peace, order and good government for all who reside within its
glossy pre-fab borders.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">A real curiosity
about <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight at the O.K. Corral</span></b> is its bizarre lack of extras.
Granted, these are frontier outposts, not thriving metropolises. But these
antiseptic sets are made even more disingenuously two-dimensional by an almost
total absence of mankind. This isn’t the hustling/bustling whistle stop where
anything can happen and generally, anything does. No, what’s here is a sort of
embalmed waxworks that only comes to life in the briefest of fits and sparks.
In many ways, ‘<b><i><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight</span></i></b>’ unfolds as a three-act drawing room
tragedy, not a sprawling movie western. Leon Uris’ screenplay (suggested by an
article from George Scullin) focuses on two failed romances, one obvious
murder, and a brutal showdown that leaves no desperado standing. The chief
hurdle in Uris’ prose seems to be an utter disinterest in pursuing any of the
aforementioned narrative threads to a satisfactory conclusion. We are
introduced to characters who simply sift in, then out of view, or bow out
entirely. Minor narrative threads are intricately plotted, then rather sloppily
abandoned. Perhaps, Uris is going for a sort of awkward verisimilitude here;
something about the imperfect nature of life in general, and the western saga
in particular. Alas, nothing seems to gel. And last, though certainly not least
of all, we are shown human carnage without bloodshed. The penultimate gunfight
is as neat and tidy as a hayride through a petting farm where all of the
animals just happen to walk on two legs. At times, Uris’ shortsightedness is
met by Sturges’ inability to do anything more than move the tale along through
a series of exasperating vignettes. At best, Sturges tries to bottle Uris’
unkempt storytelling – weighing upon history whitewashed to mask some very
second-rate melodrama.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Important to
note, movie westerns of this ilk are undeniably a white man’s world with token
estrogen to decorously augment the scenery. A director like Howard Hawks might
have made something more – or rather, better – of Laura Denbow (flashy Rhonda
Fleming) or Kate Fisher (played with infinitely greater competent by actress, Jo
Van Fleet). These are the only two prominently-featured women, each
respectively made the martyr by their castoff paramours - Wyatt (played with
burly aplomb by Burt Lancaster) and Doc (a butch Kirk Douglas). But in ‘<b><i><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight</span></i></b>’
they are merely archetypes indigenous to the movies: the pining virgin and
whore with a heart of gold. Auburn-tress vixen, Laura Denbow is the virtuous
sort, casually tossing Wyatt a coin after he releases her from jail, but slyly
to instruct him to buy a better fitting halo to compliment his saintly façade.
The platinum floozy, Kate epitomizes the ‘fallen woman’, jaded and prematurely
aged, but still prone to believe in wishing wells and rainbows as she
desperately tries to pick up the tatters of her imploding relationship with
Doc. Depressing to see how each actress gets short shrift here: Rhonda Fleming,
decidedly more underused, despite a far more promising ‘not so’ cute meet with
Wyatt (he arrests her for gambling because women have no place in a saloon).
This generates a few well-timed sparks via some fairly snappy dialogue.
Regrettably, Laura quickly retreats to a cliché as love-struck fodder for the
would-be guy whose halo really is on too tight. Jo Van Fleet’s Kate does not fare
much better, although she remains a fixture in the plot right until the bitter
end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">History teaches
that the real Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp were archetypal men of action and
decision. Their ensconced iconography as gallant figures of the old west have remade
them as more butch than brave here, and more brawn than brain - casting Hollywood
he-hunks – Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster – to fill formidable boots. The
complicated relationship between the real Doc and Wyatt is muted to the
tradition of the buddy/buddy template. Wyatt and Doc start out on a slightly
adversarial note, verbally sparring in a bro-mantic way, before ending up as a
united front against the movie’s villains - the Clantons. Ultimately, Uris has
chosen to represent the similarities in Doc and Wyatt’s mindset, rather than
make any legitimate attempt to flesh out either as an independently functioning
entity. This Doc<i> is</i> Wyatt, just at a later juncture in a similarly
themed life path. Their intersection at a particularly introspective crossroads
– at least for Wyatt – alters his decision to abandon his ‘halo’ for a good
woman. Once again, Uris’ screenplay endeavors to make counterpoints in the
Doc/Kate and Wyatt/Laura relationships. But neither heterosexual romance is
satisfactory, perhaps because the men would rather sacrifice everything for
each other. Too bad it takes 122-minutes
to get to this obvious conclusion. The Wyatt/Laura relationship is depicted in
very broad strokes of the axiomatic ‘opposites attract’ paradigm. Wyatt is
almost instantly drawn to this feisty con. But he suppresses his male urges,
instead resorting to ridiculous faux chivalry – placing Laura under arrest,
merely for doing as the boys do in town, though rather obviously meant to keep
her apart from them, and, decidedly all for himself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Doc senses
Wyatt’s truer motives and arrives at the jail to spring Laura from her cell.
But that is about as far as Doc’s friendship with Laura will go. Besides, he
has his own romantic woes with Kate, who loves him tragically, so much she
would rather see him dead than alone. Our introduction to the Kate/Doc affair
is tempestuous to say the least. He wields a knife at her after she ridicules
his southern gentry. She reciprocates by retrieving the blade stuck in a nearby
wall and attempting to plunge it into her beloved’s heart. Oh yeah…they’re in
love for sure. After being spurned by Doc, Kate takes up with his nemesis,
Johnny Ringo (John Ireland). It’s not love – just sex – or rather, assumed
behind closed doors. After Wyatt’s brother, James (Martin Milner) is gunned
down by the Clantons and Ringo during a midnight ambush near the OK Corral,
Kate returns to Doc’s side. His brutal ambition to choke the life from her gets
thwarted by a fairly violent coughing spell – a hint of his rapidly-advancing
tuberculosis. Neither Kate nor Doc is the ‘forgive and forget’ type. But each
comes to their senses, realizing they cannot do without the other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight
at the O.K. Corral</span></b> we have two great stars – Kirk Douglas and Burt
Lancaster – who ostensibly have done better work elsewhere. Even so, it is the genuineness
in each’s performance that outshines the material they have been given. As Earp
and Holliday mark the quintessence of another epoch, Douglas and Lancaster
tower over movie lore as few from their generation. It’s their combined drawing
power on a marquee that lends <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b><i>Gunfight</i></b> </span>more ballast than it is
actually owed. Without them, the picture is just a streamlined and
unprepossessing, B-grade melodrama gussied up in the technological advantages
of mid-fifties’ film-making. Douglas’ Doc is the flashier role. And like his
fictional counterpoint, Douglas is prone to bouts of well-placed and even
better-timed bombast, as in the moment where Doc unexpectedly pierces
gunslinger, Ed Bailey (Lee Van Cleef) with his switchblade, or in the scene
when Doc slowly closes the door to Kate’s hotel room, with bone-chilling
daggers protruding in darkly purposed menace from his eyes. Douglas is so right
for the part of this doomed cardsharp turned nobler companion on Wyatt’s
knight’s errand. There is an intuitively animalistic, though genuinely majestic
quality to Doc’s subtle transformation. Douglas’ performance takes the
character from implacable scallywag, looking out for number one, to careworn
crusader on a cause more worthy of his skills. On the flipside is Burt
Lancaster’s taciturn, yet self-sacrificing lawman. Lancaster’s reputation is
largely built into this model of silent dignity, his repertoire consisting of
stoic figures hard-won in their victories, quietly embittered by their defeats,
but still clear-eyed and capable of seeing the world and the people in it
without any subterfuge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">We begin in Fort
Griffin, Texas; a gritty little hamlet where gunslinger, Ed Bailey has come to
avenge the death of his brother, put in the ground at Boot Hill by John H.
‘Doc’ Holliday. Knowing Bailey is up to no good, Doc’s gal-pal, Kate, hurries
back to their shared hotel room to forewarn of impending trouble. The two
incessantly bicker over Doc’s sullen fatalism. Kate attempts to goad Doc to see
things her way by sarcastically criticizing his once-prominent southern
lineage. Taking out his aggressions, Doc flings one of his knives into the wall
just beyond Kate’s head. She responds by attempting to attack Doc with his own
weapon, though not really. Like all motivations yet to follow, Kate is the
‘faithful as a birddog’ type and can’t be devious for very long. She
desperately wants to be Doc’s girl. But he is aloof – perhaps already conscious
of his fatal disease.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Running a
parallel course is Wyatt Earp’s arrival to Fort Griffin, believing he has come
to arrest and take Ike Clanton (Lyle Bettger) and Johnny Ringo into custody.
Instead, Wyatt discovers the local sheriff, Cotton Wilson (Frank Faylen) has
released both from prison, despite their outstanding warrants. Red flags go
up. Wyatt badgers Cotton, then later,
Doc, who has a natural disregard for all lawmen – but particularly Wyatt’s
brother, Morgan (DeForest Kelley) and absolutely refuses to help. Confronting
Bailey at the bar, Doc surprises the belligerent gunslinger with an expert
knife-throw. The blade fatally strikes Bailey in the chest. As a linch mob gathers,
Kate pleads with Wyatt to help Doc escape. A lawman first and foremost, Wyatt
is also not without compassion. After all, the mob does not seek justice – only
revenge. So, Wyatt decides to help Doc and Kate flee under the distraction of a
hayloft fire.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not long afterward,
Wyatt and Doc’s paths crisscross again, this time in Dodge City, Kansas. Dodge
is a perfectly peaceful town. It does not need the likes of Doc Holliday to
stir things up. Wyatt orders Doc to leave. In the first of their many quid pro
quos, Wyatt concedes Doc can stay in town, but only if he promises no more
killings. Doc agrees to Wyatt’s terms and the bond of friendship is
considerably strengthened. In the meantime, Wyatt becomes distracted by the
arrival of Laura Denbow, a ravishing lady gambler who inadvertently breaks the
law by playing cards with the big boys.
Despite strenuous objections from the saloon’s proprietor, Laura is
arrested by Wyatt and taken to jail. Wyatt’s deputy, Charlie Bassett (Earl
Holliman) coaxes Wyatt into a reprieve. Actually, it does not take much. Wyatt is attracted to Laura and she knows it.
Moreover, she will not hold her incarceration against him, because she too
wholeheartedly reciprocates his affections.
Wyatt softens his stance on women gamblers, allowing Laura to play poker
in a private room at the saloon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt’s deputies
form a posse in search of an outlaw, forcing Wyatt to deputize Doc after bank
robbers murder one of its cashiers. It’s all part of a well-orchestrated ambush
by Shanghai Pierce (Ted de Corsia) to get Wyatt out in the open. Instead, Wyatt
and Doc stake out the robbers – men loyal to Pierce – by pretending to be
asleep, gunning them down as they approach the camp. Upon his return to Dodge, Doc discovers Kate
has left him for Ringo. Back at the saloon, Ringo makes several attempts to
incur Doc’s wrath and force him into a showdown, thereby breaking his oath to
Wyatt. Instead, Doc refuses to fight. That same evening, Shanghai and his men
ride into town. They break up a social gathering at the dancehall. But things quiet down – momentarily – after
Wyatt and Doc arrive. Ringo once again tries to coerce Doc into a showdown. But
only after Ringo draws his six-shooter does Doc respond, deliberately wounding
Ringo in the arm. He might just as easily have shot him dead. Still, a promise
is a promise. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As far as
promises go, Wyatt has made a rather fateful one to Laura - to retire and live
plainly and obscurely with her. Wyatt invites Doc to the reception. But Doc is
his usually deprecating self, telling Wyatt he is better at funerals than
weddings. Returning to the sheriff’s office for what he believes will be the
last time, Wyatt is confronted by an urgent telegram from his brother, Virgil,
begging his assistance to help clean up the town of Tombstone, Arizona. As
blood is thicker than water, Wyatt makes a valiant stab to explain his decision
to leave for Tombstone to Laura. She openly informs him she will never
acquiesce to being the wife of a lawman, living in constant fear of a hero’s
death. Wyatt professes his undying love, but rides off without Laura just the
same. It is a bittersweet moment, moderately quelled when Doc decides to
accompany Wyatt to Tombstone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Upon their
arrival, Wyatt learns of Ike Clanton’s crooked plans to ship a thousand head of
stolen cattle. He would have already done it too, except the Earps control
Tombstone’s rail depot. Wyatt’s elder
brother, Morgan, heavily criticizes Wyatt’s association with Doc. But Wyatt
comes to Doc’s defense, explaining that any gunslinger can remain in town so
long as he stays out of trouble. Wyatt’s youngest brother, James confides he
has a girl waiting for him back in California whom he intends to marry. Seeing
shades of his own predicament mirrored in James’ hunger to settle, Wyatt vows
to reform Tombstone swiftly. Alas, also in Tombstone is Cotton, the corrupt
ex-sheriff of Fort Griffin, who now offers Wyatt a $20,000 bribe if he will
allow the Clanton’s stolen cattle to be shipped to Mexico. The money could
certainly give Wyatt a start in his life with Laura. But he refuses to be
swayed by greed. Instead, Wyatt rides to the Clanton’s farm with their youngest
son, Billy (Dennis Hopper) who has been caught drunk and disorderly. Wyatt tries
giving the lad some solid advice. Gunslinger is not a profession. It’s a death
warrant. Billy seems convinced, but later forsakes this common sense.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Clantons,
Ringo and Cotton conspire to murder Wyatt as he makes his rounds in town. Kate,
who has overheard this plot, says and does nothing. But James decides to go on
the rounds in his brother’s stead. In the darkness, Ike’s men confuse James for
Wyatt and shoot him in cold blood. Wyatt is now out for revenge – not justice.
Doc, whose tuberculosis has rapidly advanced, urges Wyatt to simply walk away.
But it’s no use. At dawn, the Earps will confront the Clantons at the OK
Corral. In the meantime, Doc returns to his hotel room to find Kate pensively
waiting. He ruthlessly confronts her about the Clantons’ murder of young James,
to which she confesses having prior knowledge. In response, Doc attacks Kate,
her narrow escape achieved only after he suffers a crippling coughing spell
that leaves him depleted and lying on the floor. At dawn Wyatt comes to Doc’s
room to discover him ailing badly. Kate shoos Wyatt away.<i> “Can’t you see
he’s dying?” </i>she coolly explains. Ah, but there is still an ounce of life
left in Doc, and he proves it by mustering up enough energy to rejoin Wyatt for
his showdown with the Clantons at the corral.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a blazing
display of marksmanship, Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan and Doc make short shrift of the
Clantons. Ike kick-starts the battle by killing Cotton (who has had an attack
of cowardice). Wyatt and Doc finish off the Clantons, all except Billy, who is let
to flee back into town. Reluctant to kill Billy, Wyatt instead pleads with the
young man to surrender his pistols and face the consequences of his actions.
Naively, Billy takes a potshot at Wyatt. Doc, who has no personal affinity for
the boy, shoots Billy from his balcony perch, his lifeless body plummeting to the
ground. The Clantons defeated, Wyatt casts his U.S. Marshal’s tin star at
Billy’s feet (a rather glaring rip-off of Gary Cooper’s gesture at the end of
Fred Zinnemann’s <b>High Noon</b> 1952).
In their penultimate farewell, Doc – remarkably restored to health - is
seated at a poker table. He and Wyatt share a stiff drink before Wyatt gallops away,
presumably to be reunited with Laura as planned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight at the
O.K. Corral</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is only a middling western at best. What sobering aspects in the
camaraderie between Wyatt and Doc might have manifested, are instead ground to a
clumpy pulp of quaintly scripted melodrama. The constantly shifting locales
cause us to lose sight of Earl Holliman’s congenial Charlie Bassett, Rhonda
Fleming’s sultry Laura Denbow, and, finally Lee Van Cleef’s dastardly Ed Bailey
– the latter, much too soon. Arguably, these are tertiary characters,
incidental to the main story. Except the main story – at least, according to
the movie’s title – is the gunfight. Yet, this is over before it gets started. And making the audience wait 200+ minutes for an anemic shootout makes for a very anti-climactic finale. The movie’s
gravest failing is therefore its plodding plotting; also, whetting our expectation for a
more satisfactory ending. Doc’s miraculous recovery from tuberculosis is naively
idyllic. We never learn what has become of Kate or Wyatt and Laura’s
relationship. This lack of resolution, while open-ended, is also rather off-putting.
Dimitri Tiomkin’s score is interpolated with a ballad sung by Frankie Lane. This
has woefully dated. But it more often interrupts (rather than augments) the
action, especially whenever Leon Uris’ screenplay has painted itself into a
narrative corner. Regrettably, this happens with increasing frequency as the
story unfurls and begins to endlessly shift in its travels. So, the picture is
held together, not by story, but by its two finely wrought male star
performances. It’s the Lancaster/Douglas strained buddy/buddy chemistry that
keeps everything afloat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kino Lorber has
released a 4K UHD incarnation of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Gunfight at the O.K. Corral</span></b>. The devil
is in the details, as Charles Lang’s cinematography sports a subtler palette
than is customary for vintage Technicolor-dye/VistaVision product. How does it
fare in ultra-hi-def. With improved color saturation, markedly improved flesh
tones, better resolved contrast, and infinitely more finite processed
grain. So, is it better than the old
Blu-ray release from Paramount proper? In a word – yes. Is it perfect? Alas,
no. There is some very minute, but ever-present edge enhancement at work here.
Exactly how this artificial sharpening has come to be baked into a 4K release
is, at once disheartening, and exacerbating. By now, the application of DNR to
film-based content should be antique. Once again, we get two audio options: a
remastered 2.0 mono and a reimagined 5.1 DTS. Curious to note, Paramount’s patented use of
Perspecta ‘directionalized’ stereo is not included. Perhaps, these tracks have
not survived. There’s a new audio commentary from author/historian, C. Courtney
Joyner. It’s all over the place, but offers some nuggets of wisdom worthy of a
listen. The only other extra is a badly worn trailer. But this is only included
on the standard Blu-ray – not the 4K. Bottom line: while there is nothing to
improve upon the actual movie, this UHD release could have been much better.
Blame Paramount, rather than Kino. But judge and buy accordingly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-87951718246072080352024-02-14T08:43:00.006-05:002024-02-14T08:43:48.672-05:00THE ROARING TWENTIES: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Warner Bros., 1939) Criterion<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJh_KNpq88nfzJS3DC6yobOvTXaqgrwBb5zPw46Iqy76jp92vYTn1Hpu77XdWOIdpZDSj7DZtwJMZ8hoKXsBDM2ZJp4IiQ4J1sDhncK5x1_JpoaEWpUafYpaUS_p46LoJtafoZBFZOdG9cUE-GGYyQzFhhHYrZtFXnD0FwzZKWF0-LmNSWlG5eLIIBJI/s1600/THE%20ROARING%20TWENTIES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJh_KNpq88nfzJS3DC6yobOvTXaqgrwBb5zPw46Iqy76jp92vYTn1Hpu77XdWOIdpZDSj7DZtwJMZ8hoKXsBDM2ZJp4IiQ4J1sDhncK5x1_JpoaEWpUafYpaUS_p46LoJtafoZBFZOdG9cUE-GGYyQzFhhHYrZtFXnD0FwzZKWF0-LmNSWlG5eLIIBJI/w437-h542/THE%20ROARING%20TWENTIES.jpg" width="437" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Raoul Walsh’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The
Roaring Twenties</span></b> is just one of those seminal movies to emerge from 1939 – unequivocally
still the greatest year for American movies - period! It’s a ripped-from-the-headlines
sort of crime/thriller that Warner Bros. was duly noted for pumping out on mass
just prior to the introduction of Hollywood’s self-governing production code of
censorship in 1933, and to effectively bring the studio’s verve for hard-edged
and gritty realism to a screeching halt by mid-decade. All, however, was not lost, as the studio
found more creative ways of sidestepping the code to suit their own ends. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The
Roaring Twenties</b> </span>is the beneficiary of this ingenious skirting, and it stars
James Cagney, on whose diminutive physical stature, a dynamo was bed-rocked into
the cornerstone of the studio’s brick and mortar. That Cagney somehow managed
to survive the code’s mid-thirties’ purge of sin and corruption, as well as the
studio’s more concerted push to make ‘wholesomeness’ a byproduct is a
testament, not only to Cagney’s quintessence as the consummate chameleon, but
also just how clever studio head, Jack L. Warner was at reformulating the
crime/actioner to conform to these ‘new house rules.’ Viewed today, it is impossible
not to consider <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring Twenties</span></b> as a loving valentine to that
Warner legacy, given rise to a formidable rogue’s gallery of gangland hoods throughout
the early sound era.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring
Twenties</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is also notable as a farewell to Humphrey Bogart’s indentured servitude
as the studio’s most-relished, though as easily earmarked, disposable baddie.
Bogart, who had begun his tenure on the American stage with higher hopes as an
attractive male ingenue, was to see his biggest success playing the ruthless
gangster, Duke Mantee in <b>The Petrified Forest</b> – a role he would reprise
in Warner’s 1936 movie version, thereafter, to quickly cement his reputation as
the studio’s go-to gruff grifter, destined to take a fatal bullet before the
final fade out. Bogart’s renaissance as the studio’s leading man would take a
few more years to ferment after <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring Twenties</span></b>. Even so, this
movie puts a definite period to his exploitation as their gat-toting gangland
thug. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The picture was
the brainchild of Jerry Wald who, along with Richard Macaulay and Robert Rossen
coauthored it from a short story by Mark Hellinger – a columnist come
screenwriter in his own right. In a few short years, both Wald and Rossen would
graduate to producing. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring Twenties</span></b> is also the last film in
which Cagney and Bogart appear together. Interestingly, the picture reflects
upon the faded Prohibition era with a quaint nostalgia, while subliminally
referencing the careworn steadfastness of the ‘then’ present-age Great
Depression, and perhaps, even to hark to mounting national anxieties over
another world war already looming large on the horizon. But Walsh takes a
decidedly tongue-in-cheek approach to the life of a bootlegger, perhaps
necessary to skirt around the code, while the more dramatic elements reflect an
advancing sobriety that lays waste to men who live and love too hard to last,
especially in a reckless/feckless society having cheapened and commodified
their self-worth before relegating it to history’s scrapheap.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hellinger’s
story begins with tyro, Eddie Bartlett (Cagney) bumbling his way into a
blown-out crater during WWI. Bartlett
starts out an ethical man in a world that does not value righteousness for its
own sake. And thus, a con with a conscience is born, the picture’s premise
perilously revolving around a guy whose moral imperative is at odds with his
newly embraced criminal class public persona. Bartlett’s descent into ambiguity
is assured after an unlikely alliance with fellow doughboys, George Hally (a belligerent
Bogart) and Lloyd Hart (Jeffrey Lynn). Each will come to represent Bartlett’s
own struggle to survive the good/evil continuum on the outside, after the war. Hart
represents the good. He becomes a district attorney, as well as Bartlett’s
lawyer. Although clearly to point to a way
out for Bartlett’s waning sense of self-preservation and humanity, even Hart teeters
precariously on the edge of this intoxicating hedonism Bartlett and Hally have
embraced; Hart’s own moral compass, momentarily tested, then skewed towards
canonization into sainthood. Similarly, the two gals who rival for Bartlett’s
affections – Pricilla Lane’s sweet Polly-Purebred, Jean Sherman, and Gladys
George’s questionably tart, Panama Smith cover two sides of that sovereign coin
known as womanhood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Walsh’s direction
anticipates the darkly purposed purgation of rank toxicity brewing between Barlett
and Hally. It all but carouses in the contingencies of their uncertain
derailment, keeping the picture’s momentum vigorous, yet vague. Bartlett may
survive his reckoning. Hally…not so much. It’s the fracturing of this immoral equivalency
that casts the deciding vote. Despite the movie’s tacked on ‘crime doesn’t pay’
message, inserted here merely to placate the Breen office into giving <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The
Roaring Twenties</b> </span>a pass, it is the ambiguity Bartlett so eloquently
summarizes near the end, about a certain element in western culture always
tempted by the quick n’ dirty route to fame and excess, that stirs truer to the
métier of this masterpiece. Raoul Walsh cannot take credit for inventing the
studio’s in-house gritty gangland gracelessness. But he can certainly lay claim
to have graduated its inklings into an absorbing summit. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring
Twenties</span></b> is the penultimate crime/drama in a storied studio history of enviable
classics yet to follow it, though steadily thereafter to morph away from
empathy for the criminal class. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">We begin this journey,
rather appropriately in a foxhole: soldier Eddie Bartlett, takes a tumbling
where fellow fighters, George Hally and Lloyd Hart have taken cover. The men
forge an alliance for survival, and, at war's end, embark upon careers to pit
their individual moralities against each other. Lloyd starts his law practice.
George becomes a bootlegger. Eddie drives a taxi. While unknowingly delivering
booze to Panama Smith, Eddie gets arrested. Panama is acquitted, takes pity on
Eddie, and brings him into her bootlegging biz. Sufficiently jaded by the
justice system, Eddie transforms his taxi service into a lucrative delivery
service and hires Lloyd to handle his legal issues. Eddie is also reunited with
Jean Sherman, the gal he loved while abroad, but whom he now gets Panama to
hire as a singer at her club. Eddie would like to marry Jean. However,
realizing Eddie has no real future, Jean begins to fall for Lloyd instead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eddie hijacks a
shipment slated for rival bootlegger, Nick Brown (Paul Kelly). George proposes
they bring Nick in as a partner. To this end, Eddie tips off the authorities
about Nick’s stash, and once it is confiscated, he and George steal it back as
leverage to forge their new partnership. Alas, George recognizes one of the
watchmen as his former sergeant (Joseph Sawyer) and ruthlessly murders him. Lloyd
cuts all ties with George, who then threatens to kill him if he informs. Prosperous
beyond his wildest dreams, Eddie believes he can negotiate with Nick, sending
his pal, Danny Green (Frank McHugh) to arrange for a truce. But a short while
later, Danny's bludgeoned remains are dumped on the steps of Panama's club. Determined
to avenge this murder, Eddie sets a trap for Nick. However, resentful of
Eddie's prosperity, George tips off Nick, hoping one will kill the other, thus
allowing him to step into the void as the sole force of reckoning. In the
ensuing hailstorm of bullets, Eddie does kill Brown. But he is nobody’s fool
and now suspects George, dissolving their partnership shortly thereafter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Learning Jean is
in love with Lloyd, Eddie is also faced with financial ruin after the stock
market crashes. Eddie is forced to sell off everything to George, including his
cab company. George menacingly leaves Eddie with one taxi, suggesting he will
never be anything better than a cab driver. Time passes. But it cannot heal old
wounds, especially when Jean inadvertently hails a taxi and Eddie pulls
alongside the curb. He learns Jean and Lloyd have since wed and have a young
son. Embittered by this encounter, Eddie turns to strong drink to medicate his
depression. Meanwhile, George is plotting to have Lloyd murdered for
investigating him. Jean appeals to Eddie for help. While resisting at first,
Eddie does make a half-hearted attempt to get George to back off. The plan
backfires when George instead decides to murder Eddie for trying to help. But
George is no match for Eddie, who guns him down instead. Fleeing the scene,
Eddie is likewise executed by one of George’s thugs. As he dies on the steps of
a nearby church, Eddie is taken into Panama’s arms<i>. “He used to be a big
shot,”</i> she quietly declares. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As an epitaph to
Warner’s time-honored in-house chic, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring Twenties</span></b> also puts the
proverbial nail in its coffin. If anything, this movie marks the ‘changing of
the guard’. In truth, the studio had already migrated away from being
considered the rough-n’-tumble scrapper where hardnosed guys and brash gals
cavorted in sin and decadence. By mid-decade, Warner Bros. had already become
the home of Errol Flynn swashbucklers, Busby Berkeley musicals and Bette Davis
melodramas. The artistic milieu, while having morphed, had hardly softened. Inevitably,
Cagney and Bogart had to move on with the times, each evolving a very different
screen persona in the next decade that would carry their respective careers over
the limiting threshold as being considered only for playing tough guys in a
pinch. Interesting to think of what might have become of either actor had <b>The
Maltese Falcon</b> (1941) and <b>Yankee Doodle Dandy</b> (1942) not intervened
at precisely this moment in their respective careers. But Warner Bros. saw to
it that two of their most valuable players made this transition, seemingly
effortless, and, to remain steadfast and highly marketable commodities,
churning out the good stuff for years to come. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warner Bros. has
farmed out <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Roaring Twenties</span></b> to Criterion for a native 4K/Blu-ray combo
release that is marvelous beyond all expectations. To be clear, it's Warner Home Video's mastering apparatus that has done the real 'heavy lifting' here. Image quality is of
such a pristine nature, it appears to have been sourced from an immaculately
curated 35mm OCN. Ernest Haller’s sublime B&W cinematography truly comes to
the forefront. Grayscale tonality is mind-bogglingly nuanced. Overall clarity
is shockingly crisp without any untoward application of artificial enhancements.
Grain looks gorgeous. Blacks are deep and velvety. Whites are clean and bright,
though never blooming. It’s a stunningly handsome visual presentation, matched
by a startling sonic resonance in the 2.0 DTS mono soundtrack. Ray Heindorf and
Heinz Roemheld’s orchestrations deliver a bombast previously unheard, and,
dialogue is rendered with remarkable crispness. For a Criterion release, extras
are pretty scant, and confined to the Blu-ray. These include an audio
commentary from historian, Lincoln Hurst (ported over from Warner’s own DVD release
from 2001), plus a new interview from critic, Gary Giddins, a 1973 interview
with director, Raoul Walsh, a trailer, and a booklet essay by Mark Asch. Yeah…that’s
it! While I <i>could</i> poo-poo Criterion for not producing more original
content to augment this great movie, it’s the quality of the movie’s presentation
that counts. And this in unimpeachable. Very highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-3296206554985650002024-02-13T16:07:00.007-05:002024-02-13T16:09:32.778-05:00THE LION IN WINTER: Blu-ray re-issue (Avco/Embassy/UA, 1968) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUilNul6q0yLCwsbLJwXTpgjoJVQkVDP8YC7qIQ8uHKvfSj1wGklsAe0G4eBYjYsESAyoemousnNrK8mSQbXJGVG6eXk9_bx9qEwpbjVbwJK_ic0lIvhqdVcXN4e8Hn1x4IYoblGY9NFEyC3pSWY12hkZnA7ArL6ZE5lkFnHgO_h13flWE2P6CmMhOUM/s1500/LION%20IN%20WINTER%20(remastered).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1234" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUilNul6q0yLCwsbLJwXTpgjoJVQkVDP8YC7qIQ8uHKvfSj1wGklsAe0G4eBYjYsESAyoemousnNrK8mSQbXJGVG6eXk9_bx9qEwpbjVbwJK_ic0lIvhqdVcXN4e8Hn1x4IYoblGY9NFEyC3pSWY12hkZnA7ArL6ZE5lkFnHgO_h13flWE2P6CmMhOUM/w441-h536/LION%20IN%20WINTER%20(remastered).jpg" width="441" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The age-old
axiom about ‘<i>art imitating life’</i> has been exercised so often it has
acquired legitimacy as though one was virtually synonymous with the other.
History on celluloid has proven otherwise, if superficially, and far better to
captivate the imagination than any textbook writ large by legit historians. This
– at least, in hindsight – has been a constant source of sour grapes for those
who diligently do the real archaeological heavy-lifting. Over the last hundred
years, Hollywood has mined – and bastardized – virtually every period in man’s
evolutionary l’histoire. Not even The Bible has escaped the movie’s delirious fermentation to polarize it into such flights into fancy. And it remains a
genuine oddity about mankind, that what is presented to us visual is unquestioningly
taken at face value. Art overshadows life as history’s surrogate, canonized as
truth, no matter how far afield it skews from ancient texts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Such is the case
of William Goldman’s superb 1966 play, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Lion in Winter</b> </span>reporting to
be a dramatization of the headstrong conflict enveloping the court of Henry II.
In truth, the high-stakes drama playing out in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Lion in Winter</span></b> bears
no earthly resemblance to history. Virtually all of the dialogue and situations
are complete fabrications spawned from Goldman’s fertile imagination. There was
no Christmas court at Chinon in 1183. And no evidence to suggest Alais, the
half-sister of France’s Philip II Augustus, was Henry’s lover. By contrast, the
real Eleanor of Aquitaine was imprisoned by her husband for plotting his
overthrow, using their three sons as pawns in a diabolical game of botched
succession. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Lion in Winter</span> </b>cleverly mangles this latter historical
truth, using it as the crux of another intrigue-laden coup. As it stands, we
can either fault or excuse Goldman for his ‘artistic license’ because <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The
Lion in Winter</span></b> is exasperatingly ambitious as a stand-in running parallel
to the truth. We can also forgive director, Anthony Harvey’s 1968 film
adaptation, perhaps even more since, not only has he assigned screenwriting
duties to Goldman (allowing him to further improve upon and embellish his
stagecraft) but also, because Harvey has assembled a superb cast for what is
essentially a mesmeric – if slightly wordy- two-person battle royale.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The supporting
parts, few and far between (for Goldman has chosen to remain relatively
faithful to his play), are filled by some tremendous ‘new’ talent, including
Jane Merrow as Alais; future James Bond, Timothy Dalton – her steely-eyed
brother, Philip II; Nigel Terry (Henry’s preferred heir apparent, John), John
Castle (the overlooked and malicious middle son, Geoffrey) and finally, future
fava bean-eater, Anthony Hopkins as Richard, the eldest and Eleanor’s
definitive choice for the throne. In the leads originally fleshed out on stage
by Robert Preston and Rosemary Harris, director Harvey has sent forth for
consideration two of the most accomplished actors of the twentieth century: the
formidable, Katherine Hepburn and consummate Brit-wit, Peter O’Toole. In hindsight, O’Toole is the more impressive,
particularly when one considers he was a mere 38-years-young at the time,
sufficiently aged to compliment Hepburn’s 61-year-old wily matriarch. It is the
verbal sparring between these two legends that proves so perfect a counterpoint
to this otherwise discordant mythology of deceit, lies, manipulations and
insults.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Goldman is
nothing if unapologetic about making Eleanor and Richard contemptible, often
repugnant usurpers of each other’s authority. This aged hen and her wounded
rooster, fighting for the same scraps of waning power neither shall possess in
their own lifetime. It remains a tribute to Goldman, and Hepburn and O’Toole,
that neither Eleanor nor Henry devolves into filthy hag or horror. Instead,
each is carefully weighed with deliciously vial, impertinent things to say,
expertly timed outbursts to challenge and defile the other’s reputation while,
miraculously, never tainting their own. Instead, we empathize with every vicious
barb. The aging King who has no viable heir to bequeath his throne, is under siege
from the empress of these ineffectual male offspring, forced to concede her
part in their bungled rearing. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Lion in Winter</span></b> is essentially a
familial tragedy where personal domestic crises threaten to topple a nation. It
is a tale of one man’s legacy doomed to decay after his time because he has
failed to prepare his kingdom for a flawless transition in authority.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Having avoided
his duties as husband and father, Henry is now faced with a bitter decision;
either, to place the sword of truth into the hands of his least effective son –
John – or bypass his motley brood outright by taking Alais to wife and bed,
despite her betrothal to Richard. Indeed, Alais would welcome this, as she
loves Henry, yet cannot abide his adult sons. Time is not only of the essence.
It has run out. Henry is old. His sons by Eleanor are of the ages to succeed
him. As Alais points out, any chance for her, as yet unrealized son,
supplanting Richard, John or Geoffrey can only be made concrete if the
aforementioned are put to death or imprisoned for the duration of their natural
lives. Despite her misgivings, Alais is hardly bitter. She is, in fact, a loyal
and devoted lover – compassionate too, making it all the more difficult – if
not entirely unbearable – to despise her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">On the flipside
is Eleanor; her ace in preventing Henry’s plan to coronate John, her retention
of the Aquitaine, a strategically important region Henry desires to possess,
but Eleanor holds dear and intends to bequeath to Richard, thereby ensuring the
power struggle endures in perpetuity. Of course, the wrinkle herein is neither
is fit to rule; John, the slovenly and pimple-faced stunted adolescent, easily
swayed by his misguided devotion to Geoffrey – who is loyal to no one except
himself – and Richard, whose keen militaristic intellect and stern maturity
bear the scars of a wounded childhood. This continues to haunt and slowly erode
his sanity. Neither would make a good King for obvious reasons. Determined he
should work out the kinks to his plan during the pending Christmas holidays, Henry
commands his trusted advisor, William Marshal (Nigel Stock) to gather his
scattered progenies to Chinon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first few
scenes in Anthony Harvey’s masterpiece are devoted to establishing the
psychological complexities of the three potential heirs. John is steadily
improving in his swordsmanship under Henry’s expert tutelage. Richard is
narrowly spared the torturous decision to decapitate his foe during a jousting
tournament. Geoffrey is ever deluded by his bloodlust in battle. Alais
questions Henry’s devotion to any of his sons. She loves him dearly, but is gravely
concerned his lust for former mistress, Rosamund Clifford – recently deceased –
has not abated. Alais also worries about Eleanor’s toxic influence. Perhaps,
Henry’s panged silence suggests a lingering attachment to Rosamund’s ghost. However,
he openly refers to Eleanor as ‘that bitch’ and ‘gargoyle’ who occupies no
residency apart from her imprisonment in Salisbury Tower.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Christmas
reunification of these warring factions at Chinon will force familial enemies
to face one another. Almost immediately, Eleanor pledges Henry a rough time.
John, willy-nilly and blinded by his allegiance to Geoffrey, is acrimonious and
confrontational toward Richard. Eleanor, however, calls out each son, exposing
their deficits and venom toward one another. Eleanor is most enriched by her
sinister revenge, goading her excommunicated husband with insidious innuendoes:
how she bedded his late father, and throughout their marriage was passionately
intertwined with some of Henry’s most ardent detractors and closest friends.
She provides just enough speculation to make Henry question the loyalty of
those closest to his heart. Mere lies or cynically unvarnished truths, much too
difficult to digest? Who can tell? Eleanor is a devious hellcat, conniving one
moment, tenderly affectionate the next, employing soft-spoken intellect to weed
out the darker veracities concealed deepest from within. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">An incalcitrant Henry
refuses to bend. Stalking his lonely castle by night, Henry commands his
inhabitance to stir and make ready for the instantaneous marriage of Alais to
Richard. While Alais is crestfallen, Richard is stunned – and highly
suspicious. Much to Henry’s chagrin, at the last possible moment he cannot
bring himself to cast off his mistress, revealing far too much about his own
devotion to her. Later, in private, Alais confides her great relief to Eleanor,
also her enduring admiration for Eleanor and her silently wounded love for
Henry. Try as she might, Eleanor cannot fault, condemn or despise Alais for her
affections. Into the thick of things arrives Alais’ brother, Philip of France –
an ambitious monarch with decidedly definite ideas about France’s future alliance
with England. In the pact originally made between Henry and Philip’s late
father, Alais’ was proposed in marriage to Richard. Regrettably, in the interim
since – and, after having already spent Alais’ dowry, Henry has fallen hard for
his son’s wife and lost all interest in preserving this tenuous alliance in
order to make Richard the future King of England.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Lion in
Winter</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is not particularly interested in resolving any of these plot points in
any concrete way. Henry briefly entertains the clumsy notion to free the Queen
from Salisbury Tower. However, the price for her freedom is the relinquishment
of all rights to the Aquitaine. It is an offer fraught with incalculable uncertainty
– particularly for Eleanor. Alas, Henry has proven to be a fairly ineffectual
King - fickle in his decisions. He contemplates imprisoning his heirs in the
dungeons of Chinon for the rest of their natural-born days at Alais’ request,
merely to ensure whatever children she bears will rule in their stead. Seizing
the opportunity to bribe a guard, Eleanor skulks to the dungeon to free John,
Richard and Geoffrey, instructing them with knives to rise up against their
father. Enraged, Henry challenges his boys to take up arms against him. Even
Richard is unable to comply. Coward that he is, John flees, followed by
Geoffrey. Richard is disillusioned, startled perhaps to discover his deeply
wounded conscience. He storms off in a huff. Alais now realizes her dreams of
marrying Henry can never be. His heart begrudgingly belongs to Eleanor. As our
story concludes, nothing is decided. Eleanor departs on a queer note of
satisfaction for her return to Salisbury Tower with Henry promising to release
her for Easter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Deriving its namesake from the latter period in Henry's troubled reign, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Lion in Winter</b> </span>is
an extraordinary medieval soap opera. Yet, rarely does it devolve into fits of
subjective pique. James Goldman’s screenplay is occasionally slavish in
anchoring politics to its platitudes. But these are neatly counterbalanced by
an even wittier spate of salacious barbs situated in a place of less-than-cerebral
palace intrigues. It really is an earthy and occasionally disturbing,
lust-driven saga, sustained by the expertly nuanced performances of a superior
cast. Goldman has taken every human frailty, the malicious and the fractured,
and condensed its sincerity and sinfulness into a compendium or darkening will,
as compelling and unbridled as the polarized ambitions of fateful/fitful greed.
The magic here derives from the hurly-burly between Hepburn’s queenly harridan
and O’Toole’s curmudgeonly liege, a subtly emasculated pussycat in lieu of
teething lion. Douglas Slocombe’s
cinematography captures the bleakness in this winter’s tale, as black as Henry’s
heart, and as coldly cruel as the vengeful gleam flickering in Eleanor’s eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh no…not again.
<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Lion in Winter</span></b> made its North American debut via Kino Lorber in 2017,
heralding refurbished elements transferred to disc in 4K. Pause and cause for
excitement. Except that MGM – the present-age custodians of UA’s catalog, have
missed the mark here. The image harvest sports tangible, and occasionally
distracting gate weave (easily corrected). There’s also hints of edge
sharpening, and a few disturbing halos, more directly evidenced during the main
titles. Color saturation is mainly solid, although a handful of scenes look a
tad more anemic than they ought. Contrast is good, but blacks tend to fall into
a deep-ish gray spectrum. Film grain looks solid. Really, though – it’s MGM’s
responsibility to have curated this one more carefully. And Kino’s fault for agreeing
to distribute such a flawed offering. The reissue of <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Lion in Winter</b>
</span>corrects none of the aforementioned anomalies. The DTS 5.1 audio is
occasionally out of sync, ever so slightly, but enough to be frustratingly
transparent in projection. Extras include a hold-over commentary from director,
Anthony Harvey, plus a brief interview with sound specialist, Simon Kaye. Bottom
line: <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Lion in Winter</b> </span>deserved better. If you already own Kino’s
first flawed bite at this apple, a second chomp reveals no attempt made to
improve the rotting from the core.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">2</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-83809315155230927942024-02-13T10:55:00.003-05:002024-02-13T13:04:56.589-05:00LET'S DANCE: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1950) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3h19voppIJtv5Yz0lyJ3gsrIyzDAnDk3y9qo66B_mx4IaJ5my2r7eGJ80uTYvgRPwZyY6EkD3pmKrk4YiYOBpka5J_p9q4Itbp9KuWnbUTiz2NgEiZQiLm2LTNjA1c34i1G7_jMdEBS5Xdv2Eh5rxjA9iOdAr6LF9BYr_0XqoVvllTKhiTd1uOV_gvc/s1577/LET'S%20DANCE.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1577" data-original-width="1180" height="569" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3h19voppIJtv5Yz0lyJ3gsrIyzDAnDk3y9qo66B_mx4IaJ5my2r7eGJ80uTYvgRPwZyY6EkD3pmKrk4YiYOBpka5J_p9q4Itbp9KuWnbUTiz2NgEiZQiLm2LTNjA1c34i1G7_jMdEBS5Xdv2Eh5rxjA9iOdAr6LF9BYr_0XqoVvllTKhiTd1uOV_gvc/w425-h569/LET'S%20DANCE.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two of Hollywood’s
heaviest hitters, garrulous gal, Betty Hutton and tap-dancer extraordinaire,
Fred Astaire teamed up for director, Norman Z. McLeod’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></b> (1950)
– a decidedly tepid downbeat in each’s career. While the picture did make
money, it could hardly be considered an artistic triumph. In the sort of quid pro
quo, for which the moguls of yore were well-regarded, Louis B. Mayer loaned Astaire out to his rival, presumably to gain access to Hutton for MGM’s <b>Annie
Get Your Gun</b> (also made and released in 1950) after Metro’s #1 musical
star, Judy Garland, proved much too ill to continue with it. Like Garland,
Hutton’s own supremacy was on the downswing by the time she committed to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s
Dance</span></b>. But that is really where any and all comparisons to these ladies
should end. While Garland’s pictures continue to resonate with audiences today,
Hutton’s have quietly faded into obscurity with time. Garland was released from
her MGM contract after making <b>Summer Stock</b> (1950). But Hutton would hang
on to her digs at Paramount until mid-decade. Even so, Garland proved to
have the upper hand, with the comeback to end all comebacks - Warner Bros. <b>A
Star is Born</b> (1954) – a legendary offering for which Hutton’s subsequent
output on celluloid has no equal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yet, it is important
to denote how wildly popular Betty Hutton was in her heyday. Discovered by band
leader, Vincent Lopez in 1938, by the mid-1940’s she had ousted Dorothy Lamour
as Paramount’s top female box office draw and was under a personal contract to
producer, Buddy DeSylva, who guided her career with ginger ease. When DeSylva
died in 1950, Hutton lost all autonomy at the studio. Her expectations for ‘star
treatment’ clashed with Paramount execs who increasingly found her more of a
nuisance than an asset, and Hutton – after memorable departures into live theater and a Vegas
act, succumbed to chronic depression, arguably brought on by her addiction
to alcohol and prescription drugs. Conversely, costar, Fred Astaire could
not have been in greater demand. Having effortlessly graduated from RKO’s art deco fantasy-scapes in
1939, first as a freelancer at Paramount, then as an MGM contractee, Astaire
could be counted upon as the grand old man of the dance. Throughout the
fifties, he showed remarkable resilience in his staying power with younger audiences and virtually no signs
his energies were slowing down, appearing in such iconic musicals as <b>Funny
Face</b> and <b>Silk Stockings</b> (both made and released in 1957).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Astaire’s breezy
congeniality, wed to Hutton’s gregarious good-nature, ought to have provided
the necessary 'ying' to 'yang' ratio for another big-time, box office dynamo. Yet, despite
an electrifying solo from Astaire, and some intermittent well-intended comedy
for Hutton to play, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span> </b>is a leaden experience almost from the moment the credits roll. There is just something horrendously
off and deadly off-putting about the chemistry between these musical titans. Difficult
to assess the actual fault. By all accounts, Astaire got on famously with Hutton.
She was, in fact, in awe of Astaire. But Hutton’s inability to approach
anything near subtlety clashes with Astaire’s ensconced verve for
understatement. Thus, something had to give. That 'something' was Astaire’s
usual grace and charm. To keep up with Hutton, Astaire attempts – with marginal
success – to match her loud-mouthed mania, tit for tat. In the several dances they share, this
ostensibly pays off. But the score by Frank Loesser, is among the picture’s
weakest assets, presumably as Loesser was then squeezing all his creative juices
into his pet project, <b>Guys and Dolls</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Deprived of
those welcomed respites to simply let their respective hair down, breathe, and
engage a scene for its quiescence (Hutton even cries loud), <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></b> desperately
unravels into an obnoxious mess for which Hutton’s behind-the-scenes neuroticism and
inimitable scene-chewing camera antics run afoul of good taste, and,
almost always, right off the rails into high-decibel hypocrisy, deriding the
essential lightheartedness for any musical/comedy to thrive. The screenplay by
Allan Scott (who had written most of the Astaire-Rogers hits at RKO) is as much
a bundle of nervous goings on, haplessly strung together with clumsiness. The
names and attributes lent our stars’ alter egos are more arbitrary than lived-in:
Astaire’s Don Elwood, a milquetoast in everything but taps, and, Hutton’s Kitty
McNeil a boisterous ball of brashness without the bubbles. And then, there is
Lucile Watson’s Serena Everett to reconsider. As the dowager/baddie of the
piece, whose son, Richard (whom we never meet) has been killed in the war,
though not before marrying Kitty on the fly, Watson emerges as a formidable
force, despite Serena being a ‘nothing’ part, inexplicably placated by either
the milk of human kindness or yoke of this picture’s rank and relentless need
for a happy ending. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Scott’s story is
set at the height of WWII: performers, Kitty McNeil and Donald Elwood are entertaining
troops in London when Don makes an impromptu announcement he and Kitty are
engaged to be married. News to Kitty, who plays along until she is forced,
rather cruelly to inform Don she has already married flyboy, Richard Everett,
who derives from a moneyed Bostonian blue-blood background. Predictably,
Richard is downed while engaging the enemy, leaving his young, pregnant bride,
a widow. From here, Serena enters – laying custodian claim to her grandson, Richard
Everett VII (played with sickening precociousness by Gregory Moffett). Serena
dislikes Kitty on principle. Her son was merely attracted to Kitty’s flash. She,
undoubtedly, was lured in with the promise of living well off his family’s inheritance.
Worse, Serena believes only she knows how to best further Richie's education. And
hence, Kitty decides to retreat to Manhattan with her son. Having dissolved the
act, Don is now desperate for money. He takes a job at a nightclub and inadvertently
runs into a down-and-out Kitty. Taking pity on ex-partner, Don gets Kitty a gig
as the club’s cigarette girl. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile,
Serena has sent her ghoulish attorneys, Edmund Pohlwhistle (Roland Young) and
Charles Wagstaffe (Melville Cooper) to subpoena Kitty for custody of Richie.
Don persuades his boss, Larry (Barton MacLane) to hire Kitty as his dance
partner. Alas, this too backfires when young Ritchie prefers the club, watching
rehearsals, rather than attending school. An empathetic Judge MacKenzie (George
Zucco) gives Kitty sixty-days to stabilize the child’s home life. To this end,
Don agrees to wed Kitty. Too bad old habits die hard. Kitty and Don get into a
heated argument at the license bureau and Don storms out. So much for wedded
bliss. Kitty now turns to Don’s wealthy pal, Timothy Bryant (Sheppard
Strudwick) for solace and companionship. But a jealous Don thwarts their
engagement, allowing for Serena to win custody of Ritchie. In a moronic
gesture, Kitty kidnaps her own son and conceals him inside the club. Having
traded in a prized racehorse for some quick disposable capital nobody knew
about, Don arrives to smooth over the rough edges in Kitty and Serena’s strained
relationship. An inexplicably reformed Serena renounces all legal claims to her
grandson and a relieved Kitty agrees to marry Don anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is such a
harbinger of bad-timing, bad taste, bad acting and badly bungled scenarios that
go nowhere fast, its one saving grace remains Astaire’s dance routines. Some of
these, especially the ‘<i>Piano Dance’</i> are mesmerizing examples to affirm
Astaire’s legacy. In the art of dance, this likely will never be diminished. But
the electrifying solo arrives at the outset of the movie, leaving the remainder
of Loesser’s output to founder in its afterglow. The most enjoyable moments
thereafter are owed the finale, ‘<i>Tunnel of Love’</i> and, to better effect, ‘<i>Oh,
Them Dudes’</i> where Astaire matches Hutton in all her loud-mouthed
excellence. The tragedy, of course, is that there are other songs interpolated that
only illustrate the great divide between Hutton and Astaire’s respective
styling. Odd and awkwardly mashed together, the tepid score and even less
memorable staging of these sequences deflates the joy, leaving the comedy to
carry the load. Yet, the laughs are more belligerent than buoyant and frequently
interrupted by tearful excess, with Hutton screeching pity to the rafters. It
doesn’t work – none of it. Curiously, the picture made money – largely on the
drawing power of its two stars. But today, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></b> should be
regarded as little more than an embarrassing footnote in both Astaire and
Hutton’s careers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>was one of
Paramount’s last 3-strip Technicolor releases. But you would never guess it
from Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray. Let’s be honest – the heavy lifting here, or lack
thereof, ought to have been done by Paramount to ready the picture for its
hi-def debut. Overall, the image exhibits remarkable crispness. The main titles
are appallingly soft, but afterwards everything snaps together. It’s just that
the vintage color throughout is anemic at best. Certain scenes appear as to
have been photographed in 2-strip Kodachrome rather than 3-strip Technicolor. When
colors marginally improve, they are still light-years removed from that
glorious vibrance generally associated with vintage 3-strip Technicolor. And
most certainly, George Barnes’ original cinematography never looked so pallid
in 1950. The 2.0 DTS mono is fairly standard. While vintage mixing of dialogue,
score and SFX is solid, the overall characteristic here is just flat, dull and
uninspired. Kino has shelled out for a new audio commentary by noted historian,
Lee Gambin who has taken Hutton’s manic style to heart and is all over the place
in his thoughts and anecdotal reflections. It is an exhausting experience. Kino
stacks this one with trailers for virtually every musical they have released over
the last 2 years. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Let’s Dance</span></b> should be considered ONLY for
Astaire/Hutton completionists. It’s not an engaging musical in any way. The
Blu-ray is just adequate. Judge and buy accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">2</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-54763867622345108742024-02-12T17:01:00.007-05:002024-02-12T17:02:31.962-05:00FOOTLOOSE: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, 1984) Paramount Home Video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3j7f2ATMCe5_wP5V7PnOk-OQsKXZaOU59dKVTHR9OX8zg7BhaG7WOZgE_hYq9XhiYq6nwjfNTBAjFrzjgiu9EK87f6HEdcZNfgnlQOE6w0RG8ue2THiE1fkvnpm5otzZ9eG_TBq39sd9ebGjXA5vLadrkY6POJ5FKLDbLahsK1SwzbtZXzTs7idqY-w/s768/FOOTLOOSE.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="612" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3j7f2ATMCe5_wP5V7PnOk-OQsKXZaOU59dKVTHR9OX8zg7BhaG7WOZgE_hYq9XhiYq6nwjfNTBAjFrzjgiu9EK87f6HEdcZNfgnlQOE6w0RG8ue2THiE1fkvnpm5otzZ9eG_TBq39sd9ebGjXA5vLadrkY6POJ5FKLDbLahsK1SwzbtZXzTs7idqY-w/w434-h544/FOOTLOOSE.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In reassessing
director, Herbert Ross’ 1984 coming-of-age classic, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b>, I am
strangely reminded of a euphemism from the Archie Bunker household; something
about, if God had intended white people to dance with colored people, he would
have given us rhythm too! All evidence to the contrary as some very gifted
actors strut and celebrate to the beat of Kenny Loggins’ runaway title track. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b>,
of course, relays the story of Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon), a Chicago teen
transplanted to the cornfed mid-west where he promptly runs afoul of the
local dance-ban ordinance instituted by a stuffed-shirt minister, Rev. Shaw
Moore (John Lithgow). While critics were indifferent, or all but immune to this
rather pedestrian ‘feel good’, teens and twenty-somethings flocked to see it,
making <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> a massive bell-ringer at the box office. $80 million in
North America alone. This made <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> the 7<sup>th</sup> highest
grossing movie of the year. In addition to Loggins aforementioned rock/pop
toe-tapper, fellow bopper, Deniece Williams had an Oscar-nominated smash with <i>‘Let’s
Hear It For the Boy’</i>. Difficult to assess a picture solely by its critical
reception. If only to reflect on these chestnuts for cultural importance – or lack
thereof, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> is either a ‘seriously confused’ teen bash, doing
everything ‘badly’ or total trash masquerading as teen-empowered pop-u-magic
that gave then fledgling actor, Kevin Bacon his toehold in Hollywood as its “<i>smooth-cheeked,
pug-nosed”</i> heartthrob. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Retrospectively,
however, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> has held up spectacularly well, despite its obvious ‘camp.’
It's not a drama. Nor a comedy altogether. And not even a musical, despite its
jet-propelled/hit packed soundtrack. This affords Bacon only a singular solo to
shake his tight-jeaned junk in a barn. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b>
was the brainchild of Oscar-winning lyricist, Dean Pitchford and originally
pitched to Daniel Melnick’s indie company, having a distribution deal with 2oth
Century-Fox. Pitchford wrote the screenplay – his first, as well as most of the
lyrics. Alas, the exec’ brain trust at Fox balked. Mercifully, Paramount
Pictures came to the table with a pay-or-play deal. But Herbert Ross – always the
first choice to direct - nearly passed on the option, giving second pick, Ron
Howard, a moment’s pause to reconsider <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> as well. Howard instead
chose to direct <b>Splash</b>. So, Paramount approached Michael Cimino, whose
debacle on the costly <b>Heaven’s Gate</b> (1980) ought to have left him out in
the cold to ever direct a feature again. Nevertheless, Cimino proved his own
worst enemy, demanding an additional $250,000. Paramount fired him instead and
went back to the negotiation table with Ross.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before Kevin
Bacon, Paramount toyed with Tom Cruise or Rob Lowe to star. Each had already
established their teen heartthrob status at the box office, especially Cruise,
whose tidy-white moves in <b>Risky Business</b> (1983) had left young girls
panting in the isles. Cruise, alas, was already well into his contract for <b>All
the Right Moves</b>. As for Lowe, though he limbered with the sexual audacity
of a male stripper, an injury prevented him from partaking. A dark horse among
the pack: Christopher ‘<b><i>Blue Lagoon’</i></b> Atkins – who has always held
to the reality he <i>was</i> hired for the lead, only to be supplanted when the
studio decided to run with Bacon instead. As for Bacon, he was set to appear in
<b>Christine</b> (1983) but decided to gamble on a screen test for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b>
instead. The test was mediocre, but Bacon’s appearance in <b>Diner</b> (1982), also
screened for studio heads, illustrated he had a lot more to offer. As a curious
aside, John Stockwell, who replaced Bacon in <b>Christine</b> is remarkably
Bacon-esque in both appearance and demeanor. For the role of Rev. Moore’s
forthright daughter, Ariel, the studio went with Lori Singer, after turning
down the likes of pop diva, Madonna, Haviland Morris, Valerie Bertinelli and
Jennifer Jason Leigh. Singer, however, bore a striking resemblance to Darryl
Hannah. And she could also, and quite ‘literally’, claim <b>Fame</b> as her
calling card, having appeared on the hit TV series (based on the 1980 movie),
for its first 2 seasons before accepting this part – only her second movie role
to date.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is very loosely
based on incidents that occurred in Elmore City, Oklahoma - a town to have
banned dancing as its town council perceived shaking one’s booty as a precursor
to the abuse of strong drink. Yeah. And dark sunglasses and trench coats are
responsible for young boys leering at Playboy. But I digress. Rev. Moore was inspired
by Rev. Hennepin, F. R. Johnson who staunchly opposed dancing, claiming, <i>“No
good has ever come from a dance. If you have a dance somebody will crash it and
they'll be looking for only two things—women and booze. When boys and girls
hold each other, they get sexually aroused. You can believe what you want, but
one thing leads to another.” </i>Hmmm. The same can be said of haylofts and the
backseats of cars. Burn down the barns? Remove the spark plugs on a Saturday
night? I think not! But again…I digress. Because of this absurd prohibition, Elmore’s
high school was not allowed to host a prom. But then, in February 1980, Elmore’s
junior class made national headlines when they petitioned to host a junior
prom. School counsel balked in a 2–2 decision tie. But this was eventually
broken by a chagrined school board president, Raymond Lee, who declared<i>, “Let
'em dance.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Naturally,
Pritchard’s screenplay takes artistic liberties with this reality. Hence, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose
</span></b>tells the tale of Chicago teen, Ren McCormack and his single mom, Ethel
(Francis Lee McCain). The pair moves to
Bomont to live with Ren's aunt, Lulu (Lynne Marta) and uncle, Wes Warnicker (Arthur
Rosenberg). While attending church, Ren is introduced to the stringent,
Reverend Shaw Moore, his less-so wife, Vi (Dianne Weist), and their daughter,
Ariel, who is defiant and behaves irresponsibly. Ren also befriends fellow high
school student, Willard Hewitt (Chris Penn). Having learned of the town-wide
ban on dance and rock music, Ren falls madly for Ariel instead. Too bad, she
already has a fella: corn-fed toughie, Chuck Cranston (Jim Youngs) who
challenges Ren to a game of chicken with tractors. Despite his
fish-out-of-water status, Ren wins. Alas, this only proves to Rev. Moore, Ren
is the wrong sort to squire his daughter. Nevertheless, Ren drives Willard,
Ariel, and her flighty friend, Rusty (Sarah Jessica Parker) to a country bar in
the neighboring town to go dancing. Possessing two left feet, Willard becomes
incensed when a barfly asks Rusty to take a spin around the dance floor.
Predictably, a fight breaks out. On the drive home, Ariel confides how her elder
brother died in a horrific car wreck, owing to a night’s carousing. Recovering
from their familial grief, Rev. Moore was persuasive in getting town council to
enact an anti-liquor, drug, and dance law. Compassionate to a point, Ren does
not equate dancing directly to the other vices and thus, begins to challenge
the anti-dance/rock ordinance so their high school can host its first senior
prom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Willard fears
being embarrassed again. So, Ren offers to teach him how to dance. Meanwhile,
Chuck and Ariel end their romance over Ren. Chuck is abusive and violent. But
Ren helps Ariel get cleaned up before going home to her father. On the home
front, a night raid on Ren’s uncle’s house causes Wes to admonish Ren for his
outspokenness. There were never any problems until Ren and Ethel came to town.
But Ethel, despite having been let go from her job precisely because of Ren’s
determination and petitioning, now encourages her son to remain steadfast in
his beliefs. Principles are always worth the fight. With Ariel’s support too,
Ren enters the lion’s den – or rather, town council, advocating for an end to
the dance ban. He cites scripture, referencing dance as a way to rejoice,
exercise, and celebrate. In fact, Rev. Moore is deeply moved by Ren’s
eloquence. Alas, council is not. Ren’s proposal is voted down. Vi steps in,
suggesting to her husband he cannot be everyone’s father, and should, in fact, start
concentrating more on being a good one to his own daughter. Moore’s heart,
however, is once more hardened. But the next afternoon, he witnesses members of
his congregation burning library books they claim are corrupting the youth. Recognizing
the grotesque similarities in their arguments, Moore is ashamed. He chastises
the book-burners who retreat to their respective homes. On Sunday, Moore implores
his congregation to pray for the students who have decided to put on their prom
at a grain mill just yards beyond Bomont's jurisdiction. Moore and Vi attend,
but remain a respectful distance, allowing the teens to just be themselves. Chuck
and a brood of angry guys attempt to beat up Willard. But Ren puts a period to
the fight, knocking out Chuck, before returning to party the night away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is such an infectiously
silly, if rock-solid ‘feel good’ it is impossible to overlook its fancifully
scripted charm. With this pic, Kevin Bacon proved he could carry a leading
role. It really is a break-out performance. Bacon pulls out all the stops as a
congenial, yet unreservedly determined young buck, affecting the change he
seeks to find in the world. Lori Singer’s performance is comparatively watered
down and forgettable. It was only passable in 1984. The supporting cast isn’t
really iconic either. Then again, Pritchard’s screenplay doesn’t allow for any
stand-out moments. Arguably, this is what critics chastised in 1984 – the lack
of individuality among the youngsters. They are present and accounted for, and
yet, hardly more evolved than their tight-fitted jeans and cutoff tees allow. The
adult roles are mostly stock and spare. Does anyone really care about the book-burners?
Ditto for Ren’s curmudgeonly uncle Wes? The only prominent in the over-thirty
crowd is John Lithgow, whose empathetic conversion from embittered man-of-the-cloth
to empowered father is truly heartfelt. Dianne Weist makes for a nice
appendage. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>arrives in
native 4K from Paramount Home Video. Alas, something is remiss. While not quite
the disaster of Paramount’s 4K release of <b>Planes, Trains and Automobiles</b>,
standards on <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Footloose</b> </span>have decidedly derailed and veer well off the
mark for what should be considered video mastering/grading a la 2024. Why? You’d
have to ask someone on the mountain. This does not appear to have been sourced
from an original camera negative. Again, why? Surely, one exists. And Ric Waite's original cinematography was never this soft. So, how does
it actually look, setting hyperbole and disappoints aside. Average, at best.
Colors are solid but lack the pop of a native 4K release. From the outset, the
picture exhibits a softer than anticipated appearance. The Paramount logo looks
atrocious. Main titles possess amplified grain. But the opticals are very
fuzzy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Once we get past
the credits, things improve. But again, not up to native 4K standards.
Intermittently, scenes appear dull and soft, then crisp and a little more
refined. It’s as though someone suffering from either Tourette’s or epilepsy or
a combination of the two was allowed at the controls. <i>Good. Bad. Bad. Good.
Duck season. Wabbit season. Shoot me now! You</i> get the point. Uneven and
miserly of Paramount to skimp on one of its irrefutable gems from the eighties.
Why bother? The DTS 5.1 is also a huge letdown. While the pop tunes come to the
forefront, dialogue is muffled or anemic at best while SFX sport zero
spatiality. Virtually all the special
features here are ported over from older home video editions, given no further
consideration to stabilize image quality, and only included on the accompanying
Blu-ray in 480p. Bottom line: while hardly a classic, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Footloose</span></b> remains
a welcomed retrospective for many such as myself, reminding of a way of life
lost to us with the advent of the internet and the cell phone. Better times
before. Though hardly as well-represented in this 4K release. Again, <i>why –
Paramount</i>…why, indeed?!? Judge and buy accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">2.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1.5</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-87187271356202984592024-02-11T10:35:00.006-05:002024-02-11T10:35:20.279-05:00THE CONAN CHRONICLES: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Universal, 1982-84) Arrow Academy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQ7CglKTfBQf_SWrww_hnK5qnN_vINadBwzl4hDpKx7vlz3cTRDxJi8dNaF1Tuw9LIsDqSRTL5V7Z9socFcpTAzFJGHOV808DPHhCWXtkc2xkOlOUS3eGgs47f401yiRRIA_WrUM7O7Vng9kPR_wqPIaAjyom34JIDzOk6tqnmLsIrEvrgTS-ogwhxCw/s1500/CONAN%20CHRONICLES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1178" height="543" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQ7CglKTfBQf_SWrww_hnK5qnN_vINadBwzl4hDpKx7vlz3cTRDxJi8dNaF1Tuw9LIsDqSRTL5V7Z9socFcpTAzFJGHOV808DPHhCWXtkc2xkOlOUS3eGgs47f401yiRRIA_WrUM7O7Vng9kPR_wqPIaAjyom34JIDzOk6tqnmLsIrEvrgTS-ogwhxCw/w426-h543/CONAN%20CHRONICLES.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Superfluous,
perhaps, to suggest that if author, Robert E. Howard had not invented Conan –
the barbarian, fitness zeitgeist, Arnold Schwarzenegger likely would have
played him anyway. With his bulging desire to migrate from bodybuilding champion
to bona fide movie star, neolithic brow and devilish mint for pure camp pumping
out the hits as readily as the reps, Schwarzenegger’s rise as Hollywood’s
irrefutable muscle man of the 1980’s was both assured and swiftly realized. Retrospectively,
it all seems to fit. But important to note, there really was no template for this
flexing phoenix to become anything better than B-grade beefcake. The only real
contender prior to Schwarzenegger had been fifties’ Mr. Universe, Steve Reeves.
But even Reeves, despite his handsomeness and virility, quickly devolved into a
muscled-up he-hunk, fit only for C-grade actioners shot quick n’ dirty in
Europe. Schwarzenegger’s trajectory at the movies would pitch his wares into
the upper echelons of super-stardom. He really <i>was</i> the first bodybuilder
to say, <i>“I’ll be back,”</i> and genuinely mean it - over and over, again. Throughout
the 80’s other actors tried to mint their sizable girth into box office gold,
most notably Sylvester Stallone, Jean-Claude VanDamme, Dolph Lundgren and Steven
Segal. But in the end, it was Schwarzenegger who muscularized his movie-land
popularity into a veritable cottage industry for buff wannabes, playing a
desperate game of catch-up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As directed by
John Milius, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Conan the Barbarian</b> </span>(1982), at least retrospectively, can
be viewed as either Schwarzenegger’s springboard or his most prominent footnote
to date. Lest we remember, despite having marked his indelible charisma in
George Butler’s documentary, <b>Pumping Iron</b> (1977), the spate of
subsequent movie and TV guest appearances that followed it suggested little
more to mine from the Austrian Oak’s public persona than mere adoration of his impeccably
hand-hewn physique. So, hiring Schwarzenegger to play the titular barbarian of
a pulp fiction potboiler was hardly guaranteed success. Milius, a veteran of
the film industry was to co-author <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Barbarian</span> </b>with another
rising star: Oliver Stone. By the time these two, set about to cinema-ize Robert
E. Howard’s hulk in loin cloth, Conan had already been around for quite some
time. First serialized in the mid-1930’s in the magazine, <i>Weird Tales</i>, the
immediate recognition of this uber-macho archetype bode well with a male
readership whose own masculinity was under siege from the Great Depression and
looming crisis of another world war.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After the war,
Conan’s readership declined. But in the mid-60’s, it was revived in novelized
form by L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter, reintroduced with Frank Frazetta's visceral
and sexually arousing cover art. Again, time passed. Bringing Conan into the
1980’s, Milius made the decision to alter the character’s original chemistry,
away from a buff, brooding brainiac of undecided morality, yet abhorrent to
slavery, to a more neolithic hulk, accepting of his fate until fate itself
intervenes in unanticipated ways. Possibly, the attempt to create a less verbal
Conan in the movies also had something to do with Milius’ concern Schwarzenegger’s
thick Austrian accent would belie the character’s otherworldly persona. Even
so, a movie version of Conan had been kicking around since the mid-1970’s with
Schwarzenegger’s name already attached to the project.</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Then, it was the
pipe dream of executive producer, Edward R. Pressman and associate producer,
Edward Summer. The pair spent 2 years securing film rights only to discover no
studio was interested in funding it. Then, in 1979, indie producer, Dino De
Laurentiis came into view. His daughter,
Raffaella would eventually produce both <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Barbarian</span></b> and its
sequel, though not before Milius took hold of Oliver Stone’s original
screenplay, infusing it with more elemental nods to Howard’s original tales and
ample references to Kurosawa’s <b>Seven Samurai</b> (1954) and <b>Kwaidan</b>
(1965). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Milius also
chose to create a new edition to the Conan mythology: the domesticated Amazonian
warrior, Valeria (played by Sandahl Bergman but whose character name is never
actually spoken in the movie). Valeria derives her namesake from Howard’s story
‘<i>Red Nails’</i>, but owes her personality to Bêlit, the pirate/warrior in
another Howard tale, ‘<i>Queen of the Black Coast’</i>. In every way, except –
possibly, ‘upper body strength’, Valeria is Conan’s equal. Her ultimate
sacrifice in death, and bizarre and fleeting resurrection thereafter, belongs
to ancient Homeric heroism. Milius was to add the character of Subotai (Gerry
Lopez) to this mix – creating a bro-mantic buddy/buddy camaraderie between
Conan and his most loyal friend. Last, though hardly least, Milius reformulated
Conan's arch nemesis, Thulsa Doom (James Earl Jones), from two of Howard's fictional
creations: the reoccurring villain, Kull of Atlantis and Thoth-Amon, a Stygian
sorcerer, first to appear in ‘<i>The Phoenix on the Sword’</i> and later to
turn up in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Destroyer</span></b> (1984). Milius’ Doom is even further
removed from the Conan legacy by his adherence to a ‘snake cult’ loosely based Milius’
research into the Hashishim and Thuggee cults.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shooting in Almería
and Madrid, on sets designed by Ron Cobb, further inspired by Dark Age cultures
and Frazetta's paintings, Milius’ decision to steer clear from employing cheesy
optical effects in favor of full-scale mechanical constructs leant an air of
credibility to the fanciful nature of this piece, as did Schwarzenegger’s
ability to perform his own stunts using a pair of swords costing roughly
$10,000 each. Much was riding on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan</span></b>, though Universal, the company
eventually to distribute the picture, had little faith it would succeed. The hyper-critical
reception to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan</span></b>’s theatrical debut seemed to bear this out. Except
that audiences ignored the negative press and flocked to see it. Having spent a
cool $20 million to bring <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Barbarian</span></b> to the big screen, Milius could
breathe a sigh of relief when the picture’s opening weekend took in an
impressive $9 million, going on to gross $79 million worldwide thereafter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Plot wise: a
young Conan</span> <span lang="EN-CA">(</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Jorge Sanz) is schooled by his blacksmith father (William
Smith) on the importance of steel to their people - the Cimmerians. Shortly
thereafter, all but a handful survive a bloody massacre at the hands of Thulsa
Doom. The sword forged by Conan’s father is used by Doom to decapitate Conan’s
mother (Nadiuska) and Conan, along with the rest of the children, are enslaved.
Flash forward: Conan is trained as a gladiator. His victories in the arena earn
him his freedom. Pursued by a pack of wild dogs, Conan stumbles into an
Atlantean tomb, where he retrieves an ancient sword. Shortly thereafter, he befriends
Subotai, a Hyrkanian thief and archer. On the advice of a prophetic witch (Cassandra
Gava), Conan and Subotai arrive at the ancient city of Zamora to seek out Doom.
They meet Valeria, a female brigand and together, pillage jewels and other
valuables from a temple’s shrine. Conan and Valeria become lovers, though too
soon, all are captured by King Osric (Max Von Sydow) who implores Conan to
rescue his daughter, Princess Yasimina (Valérie Quennessen) from Doom’s cult.
Motivated by revenge against Doom, Conan embarks upon this quest alone,
disguised as a priest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alas, Doom is
not so easily fooled. Conan is taken prisoner and tortured. Doom orders Conan be crucified. Mercifully,
the badly wounded barbarian is rescued by Subotai and taken to the wizard,
Akiro (Mako) who restores his health. In Conan’s second encounter with Doom, Valeria
is sacrificed and Conan calls upon Crom, a Cimmerian god, to grant him the
power to avenge her death. Doom employs a subordinate, Rexor (Ben Davidson) to
defeat Conan. But Valeria’s spirit is briefly resurrected as a Valkyrie, sparing
Conan’s life yet again. Having lost his minions, Doom faces Conan alone. Conan
kills Rexor with his father’s sword. But Doom has seemingly escaped. Pursued
into a temple of worshipers, Doom attempts to stave off the inevitable. He is
instead beheaded by Conan who rescues the princess, before laying waste to the
temple in an inferno. Princess Yasmina
is restored to her father. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">That <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Conan
the Barbarian</b> </span>should have come to movie screens at all is a minor miracle. Lancer
Books, the rights holders to Howard’s stories by 1966, went into receivership
in 1973, resulting in protracted legal dispute over ownership. Producer, Edward
Summer’s verve for the movie resulted in Edward R. Pressman’s push to reconcile
the two principals involved in the lawsuit, Glenn Lord and de Camp. Together,
they formed Conan Properties Inc. to handle licensing, affording Pressman access
to Howard’s stories, though not before a staggering $100,000 was paid out in
legal fees. Milius’ participation would
come much later, though he had briefly entertained joining the fledgling project
in 1978. Pressman was also instrumental in hiring Oliver Stone as his ‘name screenwriter’,
and also brought in Frank Frazetta as the movie’s visual consultant. However,
Stone’s screenplay, written under the duress of his ‘then’ drug addiction, resulted
in a 4-hour epic with a budget of $40 million – a price tag too titanic to
secure. Stone then turned to <b>Jaws 2</b>
director, Joe Alves, and later, Ridley Scott to direct <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan</span></b>. Both turned
him down. Meanwhile, set designer Ron Cobb reignited Milius’ interests by
plying him with a copy of Stone’s script. Eventually, Pressman was successful
at luring Dino De Laurentiis to partake. As De Laurentiis had a solid relationship
with Universal, they agreed to fund the project up to $17.5 million, with an
additional ad campaign of $12 million. While Pressman’s first choice to play
the lead was always Arnold Schwarzenegger, briefly, Summer entertained casting Charles
Bronson, Sylvester Stallone or William Smith in his stead. De Laurentiis
believed Schwarzenegger’s formidable girth was a hindrance and ordered his
leading man to slim down for the part. Arnold complied, dropping thirty pounds under
a stringent regiment that, in addition to lifting weights, included rope
climbing, horseback riding, and swimming. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">While audiences’
reaction to <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Barbarian</span></b> was immediate, and palpably positive,
critical reaction skewed toward ambivalence to outright condemnation. While
some, like Chicago’s Roger Ebert hailed the picture as “<i>perfect fantasy for
the alienated preadolescent”,</i> many felt the violent battle sequences veered
far afield of the light-hearted corniness in Howard’s stories, with Milius' Nietzschean
themes and ideology well out of place for the popcorn munchers. Regardless, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan</span></b>’s
impressive opening weekend – it was #1 at the box office, earning $9,479,373 – convinced
Universal a sequel was in order. And hence, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Conan the Destroyer</b> </span>(1984) was
born. Alas, much was done this time to rewrite history. Virtually none of the
principals, save Schwarzenegger and Mako, survived the transition. This one was
instead directed by Richard Fleischer from a screenplay by Stanley Mann, based
on a story by Roy Thomas and Gerry Conway. This time, Conan and Malak (Tracey
Walter) were to be confronted by Queen Taramis of Shadizar (Sarah Douglas).
Impressed by Conan’s physical prowess, the Queen proposes a quest, in return
for resurrecting Valeria – Conan’s lost love, from the netherworld. But first, Conan must escort Princess Jehnna</span>
<span lang="EN-CA">(</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Olivia d'Abo) to restore a jeweled horn to the
dreaming god, Dagoth</span> <span lang="EN-CA">(</span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">André René Roussimoff – better known
to the world of wrestling as Andre – the giant). Conan and Malak are accompanied
by the Queen’s captain of the guard, Bombaata (Wilt Chamberlain) who,
unbeknownst to all, has secret orders to murder Conan before the gem can be
secured. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Conan is aided
by his old friend, Akiro, the Wizard of the Mounds. However, the adventurers
soon encounter Zula (Grace Jones), a formidable bandit being tortured by
vengeful villagers. Liberating Zula, she pledges herself in service to Conan’s
quest. Camping just beyond the castle of Thoth-Amon (Pat Roach), Jehnna is
taken hostage by the shape-shifter. Eventually freeing Jehnna, Conan and his
troop are assaulted by Taramis' guards. Driving them off, Conan suspects
treason. But Bombaata feigns ignorance about the attack. Meanwhile, Jehnna
expresses romantic interest in Conan, who remains steadfast in his devotion to
the late Valeria. Alas, in discovering the precious gem, Akiro deciphers its
engravings that prove Jehnna is to be ritually sacrificed to awaken Dagoth. Now,
Bombaata reveals his truest intentions. Conan, however, employs his cunning and
strength to kill Bombaata while Zula impales the Grand Vizier (Jeff Corey) intent
on using Jehnna as his human sacrifice. Transformed into a behemoth, Dagoth kills
Taramis, before setting to destroy Conan. But Zula and Malak join the fight against
Dagoth and he is defeated. Newly coronated, Queen Jehnna knights Zula as the
captain of her guard, Akiro, the queen's advisor, and, Malak as her court
jester. Jehnna offers Conan herself in marriage. But he declines, departing to
pursue another kingdom…for another story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite the
ruthlessness in its title,<span style="color: #ffa400;"> <b>Conan the Destroyer</b></span> is a fairly watered-down
affair. Dino De Laurentiis’ decision to hire Richard Fleischer to direct
results in a tepid, if flashier excursion into the fantastic realms of these ancient
‘neverlands’. While the R-rated <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Barbarian</span></b> had earned an
impressive $40 million in the U.S. and $50 million worldwide, its PG-rated
successor barely earned back its production costs. Cinematographer, Jack
Cardiff leant this sequel his usual sumptuous visual style, shot mostly in
Mexico City. As before, composer, Basil Poledouris wrote the score, repurposing
much from the first movie with only a few flourishes of originality to mark his
return. Owing to its diminished box office, plans for yet another follow-up were
immediately scrapped by Universal. In the interim, Arnold Schwarzenegger graduated
from this sword and sandal sect to become a bona fide movie star, appearing in
actioners and comedies that built upon his innate musculature, but
miraculously, were never to become slavishly enshrined by it. Over the years,
other Conan projects were proposed. But none materialized. And Schwarzenegger,
having well passed his prime to partake in front of the camera, now would
likely only return as a visual consultant, should any attempts to resurrect this
franchise come to fruition. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the
Barbarian</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>and <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan the Destroyer</span></b> arrive in native 4K via Arrow Academy in
a <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan Chronicles</span></b> box set, each derived from refurbished elements
scanned in at native 4K and graded in HDR10.
The results are very impressive. Color saturation is extraordinary. Both
movies favor a warm orange/brown palette, perfectly preserved here. Contrast is
uniformly excellent. Fine details pop as they should. You can see beaded sweat
on Arnold’s pecs, if that’s your thing. Film grain looks exceptionally indigenous
to its source. Black levels are deep, rich and velvety without ever losing fine
detail in the darkest scenes. Truly, there is nothing to complain about here. There are no less than 3 versions of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan
the Barbarian</span></b> – the 127 min. theatrical cut, the 129 min. international cut
and the 130 min. extended cut. All are presented in either original 2.0 DTS
mono or newly remixed Dolby Atmos which really gives your surrounds a workout! <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">We get archival
commentaries from John Milius and Arnold Schwarzenegger on the first movie, and
from Richard Fleischer, Olivia d’Abo, Tracey Walter and Sarah Douglas on the
sequel. To this, Arrow adds a new commentary on each film by noted historian, Paul
M. Sammon. Also, for the asking, new interviews with production artist, William
Stout, costume designer, John Bloomfield, special effects crew members, Colin
Arthur and Ron Hone, actors Jorge Sanz and Jack Taylor, assistant editor, Peck
Prior, visual effects animators, Peter Kuran and Katherine Kean, filmmaker,
Robert Eggers and authors, John Walsh and Alfio Leotto. For the sequel, we get
new interviews with Bloomfield and Walsh, casting director, Johanna Ray, art
director, Kevin Phipps and stunt coordinator, Vic Armstrong. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ported over from
the old Universal DVD, the 2000 doc, <b>Conan Unchained: The Making of Conan</b>,
plus archival interviews with sword master, Kiyoshi Yamasaki, writers Roy
Thomas and Gerry Conway, composer, Poledouris. Various vignettes, including <b>A
Tribute to Basil Poledouris</b> and concert footage, outtakes, trailers and
image galleries round out our appreciation. Finally, Arrow has padded out the
goodies with double-sided, fold-out posters for each movie, and collectors’
postcards and booklet. Bottom line: by far, Arrow’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Conan Chronicles</span></b>
represent the most comprehensive assemblage of footage and bling to anesthetize
even the diehard fan. Utmost care has been paid to present each movie at
optimal viewing quality. Very – <i>very</i> – highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">Conan the
Barbarian </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">Conan the
Destroyer </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">2</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-11162190206280945352024-02-08T09:14:00.008-05:002024-02-25T19:05:50.682-05:00THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR: Blu-ray re-issue (Mirisch Simkoe-Solar, 1968) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFhvjEUpN3xH883lSQwHu0iTkJEL5S0qJ07yazQSlF_1vw-fPILWgcqSzpjnAWdsmO49rRZs-M0-qoawwW4LWGH6hTIeuS_YSK-n56nnvD-M24dXJQnVD26G-bRBQgQOFOrCJtuqv443ej3ldNQz7IEikZwe99qJrqI4fMOl4fpjUNaJFnsyMvAxyVJY/s1458/THE%20THOMAS%20CROWN%20AFFAIR.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="1111" height="570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFhvjEUpN3xH883lSQwHu0iTkJEL5S0qJ07yazQSlF_1vw-fPILWgcqSzpjnAWdsmO49rRZs-M0-qoawwW4LWGH6hTIeuS_YSK-n56nnvD-M24dXJQnVD26G-bRBQgQOFOrCJtuqv443ej3ldNQz7IEikZwe99qJrqI4fMOl4fpjUNaJFnsyMvAxyVJY/w435-h570/THE%20THOMAS%20CROWN%20AFFAIR.jpg" width="435" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How do you get
the man who has everything?</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Faye Dunaway attempts to demonstrate in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas
Crown Affair</span></b> (1968) – Norman Jewison’s modish heist caper, noted film
critic, Roger Ebert once panned as the most <i>“over photographed movie of the
year”.</i> Perhaps, Mr. Ebert was missing the point in the exercise; Jewison,
exploiting Haskell Wexler’s uber-mod cinematography to illustrate the
superficiality of our supremely wealthy protagonist. Thomas Crown (played to
perfection as the cynical scamp by Steve McQueen) is rich, yet discontented. He
toils not, but merely counts the zeros in his bank account, leading a supremely
cultured existence – yet, all of it predicated on a lie: that money alone has
bought him happiness. Crown is a beacon of the community. Alas, he is also
deprived of the one essential necessary to make his world go ‘round – love. As
silly as it sounds, Crown is not much without satisfying this thirst. Generally
speaking, love equates to lust and a quick bump and grind, merely another
disposable way to pass the time; that is…until he meets and begins to fall for
siren, Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Too bad for Crown,
Vicki is an enterprising insurance investigator, hell-bent on using her rather
perversely dynamic feminine wiles (and a killer wardrobe designed by Theadora
Van Runkle) to outfox and seduce the deceptive and devilishly handsome
millionaire. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas Crown Affair</span></b> is the quintessential story about
the one that got away. It is also a tale of two temperaments, or rather – four:
Crown vs. Vicki and Dunaway vs. McQueen. By all accounts, the shoot was a
pleasurable one for director and stars. But McQueen was not above occasionally
getting impatient with Dunaway – a chronic procrastinator, who infrequently
delayed, either by arriving late on the set or simply forgetting to come out of
her dressing room when called. Indeed, when viewing the film today –
particularly the now infamous ‘chess as sex’ scene – one is immediately struck
by the mileage Dunaway and McQueen get from a gesture and a glance to crank up
the kink factor without ever uttering an erotic syllable or exposing any supple
limbs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Haskell Wexler’s
cinematography is paramount to the film’s success – its use of the
multi-dynamic image technique, first pioneered at Expo 67, creates kinetic
traveling montages within a single frame, revealing various angles of the same
event simultaneously. What is also evident, though perhaps only in retrospect,
is how much of a time capsule <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas Crown Affair</span></b> has become since.
Depending on one’s point of view, Robert Boyle’s iconic art direction and
Theadora Van Ruckle’s costume design has either dated very badly or remain the epitome
of what swingin’ sixties fashion and frolicking was all about. My vote is for
the latter, and in this regard, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Thomas Crown Affair</b> </span>is immeasurably
blessed by the presence of McQueen and Dunaway as its clothes horses. They are
two of the hippest cats from any generation, skulking about these Bostonian
backdrops with an air of ultramodern confidence. Again, it’s all very
superficial, and, deliciously so - a testament to style over substance, as the
premise of this classic caper is rather one-dimensional at best and fraught
with possibilities for failure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas Crown
Affair</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is not an easily digestible picture. You either buy into the
implausible premise of a bored millionaire hiring thug muscle to pull off the
ultimate bank robbery, simply for the sheer satisfaction of getting away with
it, or everything completely falls apart. The money – an impressive $2 million
– is incidental to the crime. But it does matter very much to the bank
incurring the loss. And so, the chase for the man with the gold-plated
lifestyle begins. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Thomas Crown Affair</b> </span>is superbly scored by Michel
Legrand, who toys with the enigma that <i>is</i> Mr. Thomas Crown Esq. The now
famous, oft repeated, though never equaled, Oscar-winning Noel Harrison
rendition of ‘<i>The Windmills of Your Mind’</i> perfectly encapsulates the
jigsaw-puzzled romance of Crown and Vicki. “<i>Round like a circle in a spiral,
like a wheel within a wheel” </i>these feral cats embrace the moody physicality
of their impossible daring, all the while knowing it is doomed to extinction
just as <i>“the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair.”</i> One
can debate the illogical nature of both the song and the relationship it
references, or simply run with the notion its poetic convolution has perfectly
pegged the mystery behind two very troubled and confrontational people. Crown
wants Vicki until he learns her secret. Too late to make a difference, this
competitive Miss desperately realizes she could almost forgo another feather in
her Halston, if only the man in question would take her in his arms for an
eternity without fail or question. Alas, within the imperfect machinations of
sixties’ cinema, neither gains satisfaction from this ‘affair’; the man,
turning cold, aloof and vanishing into thin air; the woman, left to her own
accord and rebuke in frustrated tears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our story begins
in a seedy motel with the arrival of Erwin Weaver (Jack Weston), the last to be
hired by a partially concealed Crown for his bank heist. Crown floods the room
with some high wattage photog lamps to shroud his identity, using a microphone
to distort his voice as the proposal is made: $15,000 for a few minutes work,
driving the getaway car filled with several heavy bags of money stolen from a
downtown depository. Weaver is nervous, but accepts the terms and the payoff.
He buys a ‘woody’ station wagon with Crown’s money and waits for his cue. Crown
telephones Weaver and the other accomplices – who have never met one another or
Crown face to face, a single word setting their plans in motion – <i>“Go!”</i>
Descending on the bank, Crown’s mercenaries don their dark glasses,
effortlessly blending into the crowd until the moment of action. Their ambush
goes off without a hitch. However, as Weaver hurries away, his path is
momentarily obstructed by a truck unloading fresh eggs to market. Every second
counts, and director, Norman Jewison manages a few tense moments along the way,
with Weaver eventually making it to Crown’s prearranged drop off – a metal ash
can along a grassy knoll in a remote part of Cambridge Cemetery. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Moments later,
Crown arrives in his Rolls-Royce to collect the loot, hiding it inside his
trunk, and later, flying across the Atlantic in his private plane to Geneva
where he deposits his ill-gotten gains under an anonymous numbered account. Back
in Boston the police are absolutely baffled. In fact, detective Eddie Malone
(Paul Burke) is apoplectic. The bank commissioners send in their own private
investigator, Vicki Anderson, offering her a handsome percentage for its
recovery. Already suspecting an inside job, Vicki surveys the crime scene,
perusing a series of photographs quelled from the bank’s surveillance dossiers.
Almost immediately, she pegs Thomas Crown as her man. Malone, who harbors some
sort of twisted attraction to Vicki, whom he otherwise cannot abide,
misperceives her fascination in Crown as purely sexual. Indeed, it seems that
way to Crown too – at first. Vicki is flirtatious during an auction of
antiquities and later shows up unexpectedly at a polo match, presumably to
adoringly photograph him on horseback with her handheld movie camera.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crown, who has
spent a lifetime exorcising his chronic boredom with every possible diversion a
man of his wealth can exploit – including dune buggies and flying his glider at
dangerous altitudes – has found his next conquest. It isn’t going to be easy. He
knows what Vicki is up to and she knows he knows. The trick is in not caring
about the reality of their situation, but playing the odds cagily against the
house. Who will seduce who? The lure could so easily go awry. To expedite
Crown’s capture, Malone places a police guard at Crown’s front gate. Malone and
Vicki also take out an ad in the local paper that reads <i>“Be A Fink for
$25,000”</i> an inducement to flush out Crown’s accomplices. If only they had
something to tell. Unfortunately, none can claim to have ‘met’ the man in
person. Tagging Weaver as one of Crown’s stooges, Vicki has a couple of
officers steal his station wagon and later abduct his young son. Reuniting the
boy with his father, Weaver reluctantly admits his complicity in the crime, but
is quite unable to pick Crown out of a line up as the brains of the operation –
not even when Vicki and Malone stage an ambush at the police station in which
Weaver and Crown sit mere feet away from one another.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, the romance
between Vicki and Crown kicks into high gear. She is bitterly determined to get
to him no matter what, perhaps still unaware of her truer feelings already
begun to turn in his favor. Inviting Vicki back to his home, Crown wastes no
time igniting the obvious friction between them during a relatively platonic
game of chess. He deliberately locks onto her gaze. She sensually caresses the
various chess pieces to suggest what her fingers would rather be fondling.
After Vicki wins the match, Crown paces for a moment or two, finally suggesting
<i>“Let’s try another game.” </i>The two become locked in an immediate and very
passionate embrace – a panoramic kiss lasting mere seconds that, in actuality,
took five days to film. The next day, Crown takes Vicki on a perilous trek
across the windswept beaches in his dune buggy. The violent abandonment with
which he skirts a certain roll over is designed to shake Vicki from her
complacency, but also to do more than hint she is skating on some very thin ice
in their ‘relationship’. Sensing she desires more than simply perfecting the art
of the chase, Crown tempts Vicki with the promise she may have all of him if
she desires; alas, at a sacrifice to her reputation as a professional insurance
investigator. Either way, it will be she who makes this judgment call – not he;
as ice-water runs through Crown’s veins in ways as yet completely unanticipated
by Vicki.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Desiring to
shake Vicki loose of her obvious infatuation with Crown, Malone tells her that
during their down time, Crown has continued to see Gwen (Astrid Heeren), an
elegant playgirl from his own social caste. It is unclear whether Vicki becomes
jealous after hearing this, but it certainly motivates her to press Crown into
more explicit foreplay, hopefully to lead to his imminent incarceration. Inside
a steam bath, Vicki lays all her cards on the table. She tells Crown she can
temper the repercussions of his involvement in the theft, a decision flat out
rejected by Malone. Determined to know whether or not Vicki is on his side once
and for all, Crown decides to set another robbery into motion. He even tells
Vicki when and where the heist is to occur. But the game comes with a new set
of rules. If she allows him to get away for the second time, even as she
possesses all the information necessary to apprehend him right now, then he
will know she has chosen him over her reputation and he promises to make plans for
their escape together to Europe without reprisals. If, however, the whole point
of her seduction has been nothing more than a greedy means to play him for the
fool, Crown assures Vicki she will be the one left holding the bag. Can she
trust him? More apropos, does she want to?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The second
robbery is set in motion. Unable to entirely shed her duty, and also possessing
the stained prerogative of all women who believe they can have their cake and
eat it too, Vicki attempts to play both sides against the middle. She has
Malone assign all his available men for a massive sting operation. After one of
the robbers places the money bags in the same ash can as before, Vicki and
Malone nervously await Crown’s arrival. A few excruciatingly long moments pass
before Crown’s Rolls-Royce appears on the horizon. Only this time it is being
driven by an errand boy who promptly presents Vicki with Crown’s farewell
telegram. In this high stakes’ gamble of love vs. duty Vicki has managed to
lose everything. The film ends with a close-up on Crown, indeterminably pleased
and/or disappointed with Vicki’s penultimate decision to sabotage their one
chance for a genuine love affair over money; a commodity he has always regarded
as utterly trivial and disposable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas Crown
Affair</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>remains one of the most ingeniously conceived examples of cinema style
trumping substance. Indeed, the whole story could have been pitched to the
studio in four sentences or less. And truthfully, without the tangible screen
sizzle between McQueen and Dunaway, there is not much to go on. The visual
trappings – the modish glam-bam and cavalcade of clothes and bouffant hair-dos,
the backdrop of power-brokering/uber-wealth beyond most people’s wildest
dreams, the audiences’ chance to mingle with this untouchable class; all these
enticements prove heavy icing on an extremely thin layer of cake. That such an
elegant edifice never caves under screenwriter, Alan Trustman’s wafer-thin scenario
is a minor miracle and undeniably a credit to Jewison’s prowess behind the
camera. Here is a director capable of making style substantive to the telling
of a fanciful yarn. Why do we believe in the affair? Because Jewison frames it
in a sort of iniquitous chic, the moneyed playgrounds enough to hold our
attention during the interminably long stretches where the screenplay has
exceptionally little to offer except more of the titillating same. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The other
strength is undeniably the cast. Steve McQueen’s screen appeal has always been
universal – as intoxicating to men (who wished they could be like him) as to
women (who wanted to be with him). Many today forget <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Thomas Crown Affair</b>
</span>afforded McQueen the rarest of opportunities to break out of his already
well-established mold as the roguish scrapper who, invariably, did not even own
dress pants, much less a whole suit. But draped in three-piece finery herein, a
pocket watch fastened to his plaid vest, his sandy tresses immaculately
quaffed, and a flash of petty larceny transmitting from those inimitable and
brilliant blue eyes, McQueen is as very much ‘at home’ in his fancy duds,
exuding a not entirely quantifiable aura of dapper masculinity. In a career cut
too short by his own vices, McQueen in his prime was, and remains a riveting
performer, precisely because he does not quite fit into this ultra-chic
backdrop, denying the complacency that comes from being privileged. Long ago,
this ought to have eroded any sense of pleasure for Thomas Crown. Instead,
McQueen plays Crown as though he were more to the manor ‘<i>broken in’</i> than
born, still the scrapper, but also a guy’s guy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As for Fay
Dunaway, she slinks across the screen as a femme fatale from a sexy B-noir
thriller. Her insurance investigator is a deliciously manipulative minx. Using
sex like a fly swatter, she comes down hard on any man deemed worthy of her
fickle affections. Cribbing from the playbook of Hitchcock, as the cool blonde,
Dunaway exudes amoral authority that is both possessive and yet devil-may-care.
It is this contradiction between smarts and sensuality that leave both Malone
and Crown bemused and bewitched. Dunaway’s Vicki is precisely the girl someone
of Crown’s ilk desperately needs to make his life complete. Regrettably, Vicki
is too brash and unscrupulous for her own good. To what end? Escapist to a
fault and exuding more fun than narrative ferocity, the film endures because of
its two stars. <i>“Like a circle in a spiral, never ending or beginning on an
ever-spinning reel…” </i>these impossible lovers of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Thomas Crown Affair</span></b>
cling together better than its story. And this makes for something sinfully
enjoyable – a kinetic and frenzied sexuality on the cusp of either full-blown eroticism
or total annihilation. The film’s mystique is impossible to bottle and/or
duplicate as 1999’s remake/misfire costarring Pierce Brosnon and Rene Russo woefully
illustrates. Yet, with McQueen and Dunaway at the reins, how could it be
otherwise…<i>“like the circles that you find, in the windmills of your mind.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kino Lorber has
a straight reissue with this Blu-ray remastered in 4K but still only offered to
us in 1080p. Debatable how much a native 4K release could improve upon what’s
here. Is this a perfect reissue? Well, no. As before, there are several
instances of chroma bleeding to distract, and the occasional (very occasional)
speckle of age-related wear and tear. But wow, do colors pop, as does contrast
and fine detail throughout. Prepare to be dazzled by textures in Dunaway and
McQueen’s wardrobe. Flesh tones are creamy and reveal makeup. The extensive use
of the multi-split-screen in the cobbled together montages create a somewhat
‘dupey’ quality with amplified grain; part-in-parcel of the technique’s
trickery and shortcomings. Arguably, a complete – and cost-prohibitive –
recompositing of original elements would have corrected this ‘problem’. It also
would have cost a small fortune. So, no. Not feasible. And truthfully,
unnecessary too. It looks as good as it likely did when the movie debuted
theatrically and that is good enough. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The audio is
still DTS 2.0 and, in several spots, suffering from over-modulation. Mono has
its limitations. So, nothing to get overly excited about here. Except that a lot of the audio sounds as though it's hanging on by a thread. I would have
loved to have heard <i>The Windmills of Your Mind </i>remastered in true
stereo, especially since the track here crackles and breaks apart. It's appallingly subpar for a movie from this vintage. Kino regurgitates Norman Jewison’s commentary, that was
included both on MGM/UA’s old DVD release, and later, the MGM/Fox Blu-ray and
Kino’s first hi-def bite at this apple. Also ported over: an interview with
Jewison, another with title designer, Pablo Ferro, and the 1967 featurette ‘<i>Three’s
A Company’</i> – containing invaluable on set interviews with cast and
crew. Finally, there is an audio
commentary from historians, Lem Dobbs and Nick Redman, plus the badly worn
original theatrical trailer. Of these extras, the interview with Jewison and
the Dobbs/Redman commentary are the undisputed winners. Bottom line: if you
already own the first Kino Blu there is no reason to double-dip here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">4</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-80403444062176655402024-02-07T07:05:00.002-05:002024-02-07T07:05:13.663-05:00THE BIG COUNTRY: Blu-ray re-issue (UA, 1958) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Ts4pAT3bz0PHGiiEnL7Y-DfyJObU6HKP3DyUCWMd-S-EwhZM_4ZAg2Y-VHSqyc4SvDTT61flufNIB15FcTugADtfjNwMKAgQ44qsdoG-KqUGH-K61sVxDF8SDz8k2KjcdnLEKVd6PXigRAsOaOBVcB6cgZKnPLjW7g7a5inREmHeAKRlPG22nY_G4qA/s1407/THE%20BIG%20COUNTRY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1407" data-original-width="1079" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Ts4pAT3bz0PHGiiEnL7Y-DfyJObU6HKP3DyUCWMd-S-EwhZM_4ZAg2Y-VHSqyc4SvDTT61flufNIB15FcTugADtfjNwMKAgQ44qsdoG-KqUGH-K61sVxDF8SDz8k2KjcdnLEKVd6PXigRAsOaOBVcB6cgZKnPLjW7g7a5inREmHeAKRlPG22nY_G4qA/w420-h548/THE%20BIG%20COUNTRY.jpg" width="420" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Few westerns rival the stark, rugged handsomeness of William
Wyler’s <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Big Country</b> </span>(1958), a visually resplendent super-colossus,
thundering across movie screens in Technirama. A moment’s pause here, in praise
of Technirama itself, initially marketed as the CinemaScope wannabe. Developed
by Technicolor, and virtually superior to ‘scope’ in every way, Technirama’s
debut and demise were closely aligned. It hit screens in 1957 but was an afterthought
by 1965. Technirama’s advantage was in the size of its negative</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">running
horizontally in an 8-perforation frame – virtually twice the size of standard ‘scope’
– and more aligned with Paramount’s own motion picture hi-fidelity process:
VistaVision with one fine line of distinction. VistaVision projected 1.85:1.
Technirama matched ‘scope’s 2.35:1 aperture, producing an infinitely crisper
image with far less distortions and greatly refined grain. All but a
handful of first-run movie palaces projected actual ‘native’ Technirama. The
rest saw it in reduction prints on standard 35mm minus its much touted 4-track
magnetic stereo. Nevertheless, Super Technirama 70 ostensibly set it on par
with other 65mm negative processes of the era, most notably Todd-AO and
Super Panavision. Fewer than 40 movies were actually shot in Technirama – a genuine
pity, but which <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> can claim bragging rights as one of
them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Franz Planer’s
cinematography captures the vastness of an untainted
American west in Technirama’s breathtaking clarity. Yet, Wyler’s epic is more than
just a lovingly crafted tome to a way of life long since blown as the
tumbleweed into prevailing winds. It is an intimate portrait of the ties that
bind and those corrupting influences that can tear civilizations apart. Too
easy to misconstrue <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> as just another bloated late-fifties' Hollywood mega-western. The vastness of its canvas might have sunk a more
intimate familial saga. Yet, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> is immeasurably blessed by
some exceptionally strong performances. Chiefly, Gregory Peck – typecast as a
paragon of virtue, and, Charlton Heston – whose rough-hewn masculinity, tinged
in panged menace here, is an arresting anathema to the less emotionally complex
role of Moses he trademarked in Cecil B. DeMille’s <b>The Ten Commandments</b>
two years earlier. Between these towering achievements, Heston’s career experienced an unexpected hiccup. Instead of offers flooding in, almost
immediately the well ran dry, relegating Heston to TV work until Wyler’s
decision to cast him as Steve Leech. Portraying the noble savage of Latter Ranch
in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> resurrected Heston's big screen appeal as Hollywood’s go-to
he-hunk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">From top to
bottom, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> is exceptionally cast. Burl Ives sheds his <i>‘Lavender
Blue, Dilly-Dilly’</i> congeniality in a breakout and Oscar-winning turn as the
unscrupulous, Rufus Hannassey. Charles Bickford marks time as his deviously
congenial counterpart, Maj. Henry Terrill – who is as pitiless, though masking
his contempt behind a contrived gentlemanly reputation. Carol Baker as the
Major’s Scarlett O’Hara-esque daughter, Patricia is willful, yet self-defeating.
Jean Simmons is superb as the independently minded prospector/school marm,
Julie Maragon. And last, though hardly least, is Chuck Connors, Rufus’
deliciously callow baddie, Buck Hannassey. Everyone here is in very fine form.
And yet, in a William Wyler Production they all seem to acquire something more
– something greater – more vibrant, visceral and truer still to life, doing
their best work for the man in the director’s chair who today, curiously,
requires a re-introduction to younger audiences. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the most
eclectic directors of his or any generation, the name William Wyler should be
just as renowned as that of Alfred Hitchcock. Wyler, perhaps even more so, as
his was a determination to make at least one masterpiece in every genre in his
film-maker’s craft. Directors of Wyler’s caliber, were rare then, but are virtually
unheard of today. Wyler’s proficiency and keen artist’s eye, his ability to
morph his particular style to suit virtually every genre, made him much in
demand. A quick perusal of his achievements
boggles the mind in all his mesmerizing diversity. Wyler’s masterpieces have
gone on to attain the status of certifiable classics: <b>Jezebel</b> (1938 –
and winning Bette Davis her second Oscar), <b>The Letter</b> (1940), <b>The
Little Foxes</b> (1941), <b>Mrs. Miniver</b> (the Best Picture of 1942), <b>The
Best Years of Our Lives</b> (Best Picture, 1946), <b>The Heiress</b> (1949 –
winning Olivia DeHavilland her Best Actress Oscar), <b>Roman Holiday</b> (1953
– Audrey Hepburn’s Oscar win), <b>Ben-Hur</b> (Best Picture, 1959 and Charlton
Heston’s Oscar for Best Actor), <b>How to Steal a Million</b> (1966) and <b>Funny
Girl</b> (1968 – Barbra Streisand’s Best Actress Oscar) to name but a handful.
If a commonality connects these masterworks it is Wyler’s ability to tell
highly personalized stories on a larger-than-life canvas; something that, in
later years, would be affectionately branded as ‘<i>the Wyler touch’.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> greatly
benefits from ‘the Wyler touch’ – the movie’s craggy mountains and inhospitably
sunbaked vistas easily brought to heel by Wyler to the more intimately focused screenplay
by James R. Webb, Sy Bartlett and Robert Wilder, based on the novel by Donald
Hamilton. For here is a ruthless tale of blood feuds and barons; the Major and
Rufus Hannassey sparring to gain everlasting control over ‘the Big Muddy’ – a
parcel of fertile land wedged between their properties, with a small sump and a
few trees, desired by both men, but inherited by Julie Maragon, who aims to
keep it until such time as she can decide who will make better use of its
bequest. To this clash of wills, Wyler
telescopes in on a lover’s triangle between James McKay (Gregory Peck), a lanky
Northerner, unaccustomed to the unbridled lawlessness of this western frontier,
(the proverbial fish out of water – literally, in these sun-parched plains) his
pig-headed bride never to be, Patricia, preferring her man sacrifice his
integrity merely to gratify her misconceptions about the mettle of true
manhood, and, Julie - the proverbial
heart of gold, sought by boorish reprobate, Buck. Destiny, of course, has other
plans for all concerned. And James eventually realizes he has made a grave
error in judgment by falling in love with Pat, openly desired by the ranch’s robust
foreman, Steve Leech.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leech is the
jealous type – sort of – unable to recognize what Pat sees in James, who cannot
fight worth a damn and doesn’t even ride – at least, not Old Thunder, the fiery
stallion from which he is repeatedly and embarrassingly thrown at first, but
later, through blind perseverance, tames much to Leech’s dismay. In one of the
movie’s smaller ironies, Leech’s admiration for James exponentially grows in proportion
to Pat’s sudden loss of interest. Pat and Julie are best friends. Now, she
attempts to shake some sense into Pat’s fool brain about her fiancé. Jim – not
Steve - is the real man, the fellow who can think his way out of most any
situation, employing his fists only as a last resort. This moment too gets
played out, but away from the ladies. Steve and Jim engage in moonlit
fisticuffs. This leave both panting, bloodied, yet unbowed. Jim may not have
grown up rough n’ ready, but he has proven his adaptability to some of the
harshest obstacles placed in his way. And Steve is impressed. Perhaps, he ought
to consider Jim, not as a rival, but a good man to know in a pinch as his
friend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">An ever-pivoting
weathervane of antagonistic 'bro-mantic' chemistry stirs through <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big
Country</span></b>; Steve’s undying devotion to the Major, whom he regards as
something of a father figure, challenged by Terrill’s brutal quest to wipe the
Hannasseys clean off their land. This proves just a tad too blood-thirsty for
Steve to embrace in the end. Interestingly, Steve’s contempt for Jim morphs
into admiration after Jim refuses to surrender to his principles. Clearly,
actions speak louder than words. Finally, there is Rufus Hannassey,
misperceived at the outset as the stock villain of the piece, exploiting three
shiftless sons, Buck, Rafe (Chuck Hayward) and Dude (Buff Brady) to terrorize
the Terrill clan. Actually, it is the other way around. The Major and Pat are
conspiring to break the Hannasseys. Pat is even willing to sacrifice Jim to her
caprice for a knock-down, dragged-out fight that reaches its own unanticipated
climax when Jim rides into the Hannassey’s heavily-fortified canyon on
horseback alone to rescue Julie, who has been taken hostage by Buck under the
pretext she intends to marry him and thus, gain control of The Big Muddy. Rufus
agrees to Jim’s request to settle their score with pistols at twenty paces.
Buck, deviously plots to gun down his adversary in cold blood before the count
is finished. Mercifully, he misses his shot and Jim, waiting for Buck to run
true to form, instead refuses to fire his pistol into a coward as rebuttal. Rufus
is shamed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">With the
exception of Gregory Peck’s newcomer, all of these menfolk are variations on a
theme of untamed masculinity. Charlton Heston, here epitomizes the solitary man
of the west - broad-shouldered and square-jawed. But Peck’s James McKay is the more
fascinating to observe; selfless, noble and unaccustomed to the physically demands
of an uncharted wilderness. Though occasionally derailed in his pursuits
because, unlike the others, he does not immediately wear his passions on his
sleeve, James will conquer demons the others can only guess at. Culture may
separate a man from his instincts. But it does not take the place of
satisfaction derived from a primal display of chest-thumping male machismo.
Yet, even during the fistfight with Steve, or the duel against Buck, Peck’s
northerner shows remarkable restraint, or rather, a genuine ‘thinking’ man’s
ability to employ brains in service of brawn rather than the other way around.
Like most every western of its era, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> would have us
believe in the mythology, these vast spaces were ‘civilized’ without the
influence of a good woman…or even a few wayward ones.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The two female
leads here are basic representational femininity – Pat, the slightly tomboyish
daughter of a wealthy land owner, with a wild streak that can only be tamed by
brute force (in short, the girl who would have liked to wear the pants in the
family if only she had been born a man), and Julie – self-made, strong-minded,
but appropriately feminine, contented to love a man as a woman –
whole-heartedly and for the virtues he already possesses, rather than the one’s
Pat so desperately desires to cultivate in Jim.
Why Pat never fell for Steve remains one of the oddities of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big
Country</span></b>, because their temperaments are suspiciously alike. It has always
been a Hollywood convention that men of intellect somehow make for tepid lovers,
seemingly hampered by cerebral satisfaction, leaving the hot-blooded
love-making to their Neolithic counterparts, who lurch hulking bodies,
penetrating stares and meaty fists perpetually clenched. Heston’s thug muscle,
however, is matured by his exposure to Jim’s manly grace, as is Jim’s mutual
regard for Steve. They may never be drinking buddies. But each has come to
favor the other with more than a modicum of genuine respect and an ounce of
envy for the type of man each of them can never be. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> opens with an
exhilarating main title - a stagecoach streaking across unadorned plains to a
thunderous ovation of galloping horses’ hooves, memorably underscored by Jerome
Moross. Arriving at a small outpost in the middle of this landlocked nowhere is
retired sea captain, James McKay (Gregory Peck) who has been anticipating his
reunion with fiancée, Patricia Terrill (Carroll Baker) for many months. The
stage is met by Steve Leech (Charlton Heston), the beefy, embittered foreman of
Latter Ranch, the most prosperous homestead in these parts, overseen by the
superficially congenial, though utterly ruthless, Major Henry Terrill (Charles
Bickford). Leech has lusted after Pat since they were teenagers, even making
crude romantic overtures readily dismissed by the lady of the house. Upon
returning home from her trip to San Francisco, Pat informed the family she had
decided to marry McKay. So, Leech utterly despises a man he has never met. His
animosity is transmitted from their first casual introduction; McKay’s
unassuming congeniality incurring Leech’s imperishable jealousy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pat meets McKay at
the modest home of good friend, Julie Maragon (Jean Simmons), put upon by the
unwanted affections of Buck Hannassey (Chuck Connors). There is a genuine spark
of friendship between McKay and Julie that goes unnoticed by Pat, who has
idolized McKay all out of proportion to fit her own warped sense of manly
grace. But these self-imposed myths are about to rupture when McKay and Pat’s
carriage is ambushed on the open road by Buck and his brothers, Rafe (Chuck
Hayward) and Dude (Buff Brady). The boys make a mockery of McKay’s genteel
manner. Pat is enraged but also shamed. She cannot understand why McKay will
not fight these ruffians. Back at the ranch, Pat informs the Major of their
run-in with the Hannasseys and this prompts Terrill to order an ambush of the
Hannassey’s canyon hideaway, despite Jim’s strenuous objections.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Actually, the
Major is just looking for another excuse to engage the curmudgeonly Rufus (Burl
Ives, in a bone-chilling performance) in a showdown. The Major has Steve and a
posse of Latter’s men go into town. They ambush Rafe and Dude at a brothel and
beat the tar out of them in a public spectacle that is bent on humiliation. Alas
Buck, the ringleader escapes, cowardly concealing himself in the back of an
open carriage. Buck a colossal disappointment to Rufus. To temper their
confrontation, Buck lies to his father about having secured Julie’s romantic
intentions. In doing so, Rufus reasons the Hannasseys might be closer than ever
to gaining control over ‘The Big Muddy’ – the only fresh water reserve for
miles. Julie currently holds the deed to this land, but has permitted both the
Hannasseys and Terrills to access her sump to water their horses and cattle.
Meanwhile, back at Latter Ranch, McKay disappoints his bride yet again by
refusing to accept Leech’s public challenge to ride ‘Old Thunder,’ a wild
stallion no one, not even Leech has been able to tame. Pat misperceives McKay’s
refusal as sheer cowardice. But actually, McKay is more determined than ever to
break the stallion, only in his own way and good time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">After the others
have gone away, McKay repeatedly saddles the violent steed with the aid of
stable hand, Ramon Guitares (Alfonso Bedoya). He is as easily thrown many
times. Bruised and bloodied, though decidedly committed, McKay’s slow but
steady approach eventually domesticates the animal. Hence, when Steve and his
men return from their lynching of the Hannessey brothers, they find to their
utter bewilderment, McKay parading about the paddock astride Old Thunder. Sometime later, the Major invites Julie and a
host of guests to his home to announce Pat and McKay’s engagement. Again, the
mood turns sour when Rufus arrives uninvited, rifle in hand. He informs the
Major he will no longer tolerate raids on his homestead and further challenges
the Major to reveal himself to his guests as the cutthroat Rufus knows him to
be by shooting him in the back. This tense showdown ends peaceably. But McKay
has begun to have second thoughts about marrying into this family, as has Pat
about taking him to husband.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">McKay and Julie
become chummy after he accidentally stumbles across The Big Muddy while on a
solitary ride through the canyons. Learning of its importance in keeping the
strained peace between the Hannasseys and the Terrills, McKay offers to buy the
land as a wedding present for Pat, but then breaks off his engagement to keep
the land for himself after realizing Pat’s love as irreversibly cooled. Leech
decides to confront McKay in a midnight brawl outside Latter Ranch. At long
last fed up with having to chronically reaffirm his manhood, McKay meets this
challenge and, despite being the physically weaker of the two, refuses to
buckle or surrender. His stubbornness earns Leech’s respect. To satisfy the lie
he told his father, Buck kidnaps Julie and takes her to the Hannassey’s canyon
hideaway. But after questioning Julie, Rufus realizes she has absolutely no
intension of marrying his son. When McKay comes to her rescue, Rufus informs
Julie she would be wise to send him away to spare his life. At the last
possible moment, Rufus has a change of heart, suggesting a more telling
redemption - a gentlemen’s duel between Buck and James for Julie’s honor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Too bad Buck is
no gentleman and proves it when he prematurely fires his pistol at McKay before
Rufus has had a chance to finish the countdown. His lousy shot misses McKay.
Now, Rufus orders his son to stand his ground while McKay takes his clear shot
in retaliation. Instead, Buck panics and attempts to hide behind a carriage.
McKay deliberately spoils his shot, inferring Buck is not worthy of an
honorable death. Realizing McKay has upheld his part of the bargain, as well as
maintained his honor while Buck has disgraced his, Rufus shoots his own son
dead. The echo of gunfire draws the Terrill posse into the canyon. But at the
last minute, Leech pulls back his men, leaving the Major and Rufus to finish
their blood feud as lone adversaries. The men kill each other and Julie and
McKay depart the canyon for the wide-open spaces, presumably to start their
lives anew as man and wife.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is a striking
masterpiece. There is a refreshingly primal quality in these sexually charged
relationships, the implied sensuality in shifting male/female alliances played
in sharp contrast to the overtly confrontational, testosterone-infused prowess
exercised within the company of men. The most compelling of these adversarial
relationships is arguably, Leech and McKay. Both Gregory Peck and Charlton
Heston are at the top of their game as polar opposites in the male animal. Peck
is playing to type as a man of integrity – an onscreen persona he cultivated in
his private life. Heston’s performance is the real breakthrough, diametrically
different from the man, and, riveting in all its darkly purposed complexity.
Even today, Heston’s superior handling of Steve Leech’s raw persona is
something of a revelation. It would eventually cause William Wyler to consider
him for another epic: his remake of <b>Ben-Hur</b> (1959) for which Wyler,
Heston, and, the picture would all take home Oscars. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Conversely,
Carroll Baker’s Pat and Jean Simmons’ Julie represent two sides of conflicted
femininity. Pat is fundamentally flawed and destined to live perpetually
dissatisfied in her unhappily ever after. But Julie is the quintessence of the
clear-eyed – sadder but wiser – gal, long matured beyond childhood romantic
fantasies about men. Julie understands human imperfection – male imperfection
even better. She has had to come to terms with it her whole life. And, she came from nothing. Ergo, her respect
for hard work over the perks of privilege. Julie is the real woman in this big
country. Conversely, Pat is stunted as the adolescent tomboy, wearing dresses
now, but still very much with her head stuffed full of naïve notions about the
proverbial white knight astride his steed. She fancies herself as the princess
of Latter, even as time bears her out as a variation on the wicked queen. It isn’t all Pat’s doing, however. After all,
she is the Major’s daughter and, as such, a woman largely fostered by her
father’s cruel designs on conquering whatever is desirable in the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, there
are the formidable contributions of Charles Bickford and Burl Ives to
reconsider. The genius here is how Wyler gradually illustrates the startling
similarities between these two life-long adversaries, drawing basic parallels
(ego, drive, and, jealousy) to narrow the chasm of disparities between a
seemingly upstanding citizen and the castoff hermit from the hills. Both are
devoted to their families. Each is hell-bent on destroying the other, merely
for want of the same thing. In a perfect world, these two might have formed an
alliance to jointly rule. Instead, they share a slavish devotion to willfully
self-destruct. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> deserves a grander treatise and profile of
our critical respect and admiration than it currently holds. While the passage
of time has steadily earned the picture more just deserts than the critical
oversight upon its theatrical release, more than ever it has advanced toward
the top 5 western movies of all time, just behind <b>The Magnificent Seven</b>
(1960), <b>Shane</b> (1953), <b>The Searchers</b> (1956) and <b>High Noon</b>
(1952).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kino Lorber’s
re-issue of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Big Country</span></b> on Blu-ray is identical in every way to its
previous, out-of-print disc. The color palette here is, for the most part, robust.
Skin tones favor a warmer glow. The palette favors browns, beiges and blues. There
are a few instances where slight fading is noted, though nothing egregious.
Contrast is uniformly excellent. Blacks are deep and solid. Film grain has been
accurately reproduced. There are a handful of instances where slight
age-related artifacts are detected – again, nothing here to distract. Kino’s
DTS 2.0 mono audio is excellent. The spate of extras that accompanied the
earlier Kino disc make a welcome return herein, including a thorough commentary
from noted cultural historian, Sir Christopher Frayling – one of a handful of
film commentators whom I could listen to until the proverbial ‘cows come
home’. Better still, we get 1986’s
hour-long documentary ‘<b><i>Directed by William Wyler’</i></b>, one of the
most comprehensive accounts of any director’s career, with interviews from
Bette Davis, Greer Garson, Audrey Hepburn, Charlton Heston and many others. This
is followed by nearly 23 min. of outtakes from this same documentary, the
vintage featurette ‘<b><i>Fun in the Country’</i></b>, an original theatrical
trailer and TV spots, plus an image gallery. Bottom line: <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Big Country</b>
</span>is grand entertainment. If you do not already own this one, you should. Very
highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">4.5</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-30255276625213522432024-02-05T20:02:00.000-05:002024-02-05T20:02:34.967-05:00WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION: Blu-ray reissue (Edward Small/United Artists, 1957) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjMXV10MFjSr76MlfCSemCVvdBwuqzw8brpNx2ZC-Am0MSgErmxFQ8guNcRFa31YuGZcKjVPJ5SDfc9y6Z5TRYKmGKQtYlJMkyh7Qexw2YhVBP3HDbKslVAo9t0_BFcCxOWOGOnwtTra2768NEWMHLQh4_Ow-r-vynQKTeA3lyZsJoIdrYFTIasluxJ0/s1500/WITNESS%20FOR%20THE%20PROSECUTION.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1239" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjMXV10MFjSr76MlfCSemCVvdBwuqzw8brpNx2ZC-Am0MSgErmxFQ8guNcRFa31YuGZcKjVPJ5SDfc9y6Z5TRYKmGKQtYlJMkyh7Qexw2YhVBP3HDbKslVAo9t0_BFcCxOWOGOnwtTra2768NEWMHLQh4_Ow-r-vynQKTeA3lyZsJoIdrYFTIasluxJ0/w444-h538/WITNESS%20FOR%20THE%20PROSECUTION.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As an exercise
in delicately concocted stagecraft, owing to the métier of celebrated mystery
writer, Agatha Christie and her singularly plotted courtroom melodrama of the
same name, director, Billy Wilder’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> (1957)
proves an appetizing plat du jour for the movie screen, imbued with all the
good taste, elegance, humor and big-time star power of a grandly amusing war
horse trundled out for the umpteenth time, yet remarkably resilient despite its
abject familiarity. Whether kudos belong to Wilder, for this exemplar of evenly
paced drama and suspense, or to the vitriolic histrionics of Charles Laughton
and Elsa Lanchester (marrieds in real life) cast as antagonistically
delicious barrister, Sir Wilfrid Robart and his obsessively devoted nurse, Miss
Plimsoll), the results are a first-rate, adroit and a compelling slice of the
procedural ‘whodunit’, permeated with all the sublime production value producers,
Arthur Hornblower and Edward Small can muster. Some 66 years on, it just is <i>that
</i>good! Impossible, perhaps, to assess what will or will not
endure with the passage of the years. But when something does, it transcends mere
entertainment to become art. And <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> is most
assuredly art.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Agatha
Christie’s artistry is decidedly found in the ingeniousness of her
razor wit and expert construction. This translates exceedingly
well to the stage where transitions between scenes are minimal or achieved with limited alterations to painted backdrops. Movies, however, are
expected to…well…move. Thus, in assuming a highly literal translation of
Christie’s distinguished and long-running masterpiece, Wilder and co-writer, Harry Kurnitz have assumed a monumental and fairly daunting task to
maintain the integrity in that original craftsmanship, while offering audiences something
more visually compelling to offset the static nature of the piece. Miraculously, this trick is carried off
to near perfection. Wilder gives us a consummate facsimile to satisfy both the popcorn muncher and Christie purist who have come to experience ‘Aggie’
in all her literate glory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The biggest
selling feature here is the cast. The aforementioned Laughton headlines
a roster of superior talents. Tyrone Power, in his last screen appearance is a deliciously devious and enterprising, Leonard Vole; Marlene Dietrich, ravishingly
seductive as his retired cabaret-singer/wife, Christine. Henry Daniell, at long
last retired from chronically playing the ruthless usurper, gets made
over as a sympathetically careworn attorney, Mayhew. John Williams, as Laughton’s right
hand, Brogan-Moore, and Norma Varden and Una O’Connor, respectively play victim of the crime, Mrs. Emily Jane French and her nattering
housemaid, Janet. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></b> would be nothing without these iconic character actors bringing
their very best to each and every moment of the script. The stars, as well as the Wilder/Kurnitz
screenplay vacillate in Christie’s rich tapestry of dialogue, their finely
wrought exchanges crackling with considerable potency.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The joy here
derives from the brilliant execution of the piece. None of it seems to drag -
not even Wilder’s insertion of two flashbacks – neither indigenous to
Christie’s short story nor the play – but wholly concocted for this movie,
simply to afford Dietrich an opportunity to show off her much-celebrated legs and
sing the infectious little ditty, ‘<i>I May Never Come Home Anymore’</i>. Come
on, join the party? Indeed! There is, of course, much praise to be lavished on Dietrich’s
inimitable and awe-inspiring star quality. It commands our attention with an
almost hypnotic assurance. And that intangible nature of what makes Dietrich a star is even more self-evident when one considers just how
second-rate she remains as a singer - for which, in spite of this dearth, she is also well-regarded and even more justly lionized by her legions of fans. The making of a star is elusive. Many go through Hollywood’s gristmill
with dreams of becoming a legend. Yet, only a handful survived this
trial by fire. And stars know their merits in egos
offering up something worthy to emulate and admire. Better still, Wilder’s even-keeled pace, he all but sashays about the
material, ensures there is never a monotonous or insignificant, fanny-twitching
moment in the entire movie.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is an ensemble piece. And yet, almost from the outset, its success
rests with moon-faced and jowly Charles Laughton, an ancient, yet properly
cured ham who infuses Sir Wilfrid with a rich and varied veneer of caustic humor and rank cynicism. When Laughton speaks, he
knows precisely where to punctuate his dialogue and where such bravura is best held back, affording the other talents basking in
his afterglow to take the bar, already set very high – elevating the caliber of
their collaborative work. Laughton’s brittle barrister is a joy to observe,
despite Sir Wilfred's cruel verbal abuse of Nurse Plimsoll. Jaded and plotting, Laughton’s Sir Wilfred is,
as Plimsoll suggests <i>“the fox”</i> – his cunning matched only by his hyper-cynicism
towards authority figures. Plimsoll outranked Sir Wilfred in hospital. But Laughton’s Wilfred, having escaped its confines, now firmly intends to show her who's boss. Laughton was
Oscar-nominated for this spellbinding performance. Almost forgivably, he lost to Alec
Guinness for <b>The Bridge on the River Kwai</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In Laughton’s
wake there are many in competition, even more remarkably, no casualties
among the principal cast. Everyone manages to reach a personal best. Tyrone
Power, in particular, distinguishes himself; Power, walking the gauntlet as the
villain of the piece for only the second time in his career, the first,
1947’s <b>Nightmare Alley</b> (today considered an exemplar of the noir, yet a
horrendous flop when it premiered). At
the age of 43, Power has decidedly transgressed from that studio-sanctioned
image as the pretty boy/stud/heartthrob we formerly recall from his tenure at
2oth Century-Fox. Nor is he – wisely, even making any attempt to rekindle this
memory in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution. </span></b>Instead, he brings a sort of
compelling venom to the Lothario gone to seed. Leonard Vole is a failed lady's man, turned notorious con, fallen on very hard times, reduced to placating widows like Mrs. Emily French for the crumbs cast from her table. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Power’s shtick
with his latest invention, an eggbeater that creams and separates the yolk from
the whites, proves enough to entice Mrs. French into becoming his…um…<i>friend</i>,
though arguably not enough to get the old beef to cut him a check for his
expenses or, perhaps, convince her of his romantic intentions, which are ‘hardly’
honorable. No, Mrs. French is just a means to an end. Alas, Emily’s untimely
demise, discovered strangled on the floor of her front parlor, leads her
careworn housemaid, Janet to accuse Leonard of the crime of murder. Ah, but did
Leonard Vole actually murder Emily French? Sir Wilfrid does not seem to think
so, relying on ‘first impressions’, and his considerable powers of deduction;
also, by casting a glare off refracted light from his monocle into Leonard’s
eyes – the windows to his soul. It’s a clever approach for separating liars
from the seekers of truth, though it succeeds only in fooling Sir Wilfrid. For Leonard
Vole is guilty as charged. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The other
pivotal performance in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> is owed Dietrich as
Leonard’s sinfully attractive, though queerly dispassionate German wife,
Christine. As the caliber of Dietrich’s name above the title commands, we first
meet Christine ahead of her debut in the original Christie stagecraft, now
expedited to a WWII flashback; a seedy basement cabaret where Leonard is
immediately attracted to Christine’s obvious charm. As suitors go, Len’ remains
impartial while the tomcatting G.I.’s, homesick, heartsore and much worse for
the wine and schnapps, attempt to grope a concertina-toting Christine. It’s a
fairly unimpressive introduction for Dietrich, appearing in her trademarked
affinity for men’s attire, warbling a few panged bars of</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ralph Arthur
Roberts/Jack Brooks’ bittersweet and bouncy dirge. Wilder cannot resist to have
one of the leering officers tear at Dietrich’s pant, exposing her supple bare limb
up to the thigh. This, it seems, is enough to incite a riot. Far from chivalry,
Leonard slips out unnoticed as the military police invade to arrest the barroom
brawlers. He returns only after the deluge has passed. In retrospect,
Dietrich’s intro is far more telling of Leonard Vole’s ambitions than
Christine’s - his attraction to her not swayed by passion, but rather coyly
dictated with enterprising self-interests to take what he desires without
getting all mussed. Leonard is a cunning man. In short order, Christine becomes
his lover, then wife. But the couple discovers a mutual and more insidious
interest in Leonard’s obvious talents for lightening the purses of unsuspecting
middle-aged women. Only later do we also learn of the toll this takes on
Christine. Her contempt for him is appropriately marked in the movie’s climax,
plunging a knife into this lifelong horror, demarcated by insane bitterness and
jealousy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Interestingly,
in Christie’s original short story, Leonard Vole is liberated from the gallows
with an exoneration of the crime of murder and allowed to depart the courtroom
with his wife (called Romaine in the book) free, seemingly to pursue other
hapless victims. Christie, who was not above recognizing a literary faux pas, as
she had committed it, later endeavored to rectify this unsatisfactory
conclusion, appealing to the more traditional ‘<i>crime does not pay’</i>
scenario. Except for this, and, one other flashback, illustrating Leonard and
Emily’s ‘cute meet’ (he, as a casual passerby, instructing her on the purchase
of a ridiculous bonnet, leading to an invitation to sup under Janet’s watchful
eye), <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> is limited to two sets, superbly
designed by Alexandre Trauner: Sir Wilfrid’s lavishly appointed, yet cozy
barrister’s chambers/private living quarters, complete with a mechanized chair
lift, and, a meticulous recreation of the famed Old Bailey courtroom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> opens with the arrival of London barrister, Sir Wilfrid Robarts, after
his near-fatal heart attack and lengthy hospital stay. He is met at the office
by his ever-devoted man servant, Carter (Ian Wolfe) and tearfully ‘happy to see
him’ private secretary, Miss O’Brien (Marjorie Eaton). Sir Wilfrid, however, is
hardly the warm-hearted type. In fact, he is rather dismissive of their kindnesses,
if eager to resume his practice and old habits precisely where he left off,
much to the nattering chagrin of his meddlesome nursemaid, Miss Plimsoll, whom
Sir Wilfrid begrudgingly references as ‘the old blabbermouth’. While in
hospital, Sir Wilfrid’s doctors, his staff and Plimsoll have conspired to
lighten his case load, lining up modest briefs with attractive fees. This
nanny-fication of the gregarious Wilfrid triggers caustic outrage. Yet, a ray
of light there still may be when old friend and solicitor, Mayhew arrives with
a tempting prospect: to act as Leonard Vole’s defense. Given the Damocles dangling
overhead, Sir Wilfrid is perplexed by Leonard’s breezy confidence as he
outlines in great detail his ‘accidental’ befriending of Mrs. French. He also suggests
to be a happily married man. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leonard makes no
apology for having befriended Emily French, even less to contradict his hopes
she would finance his eggbeater. Len’ then feigns total surprise upon
discovering the late Mrs. French has left him a considerable dowry of £80,000
in her will. Nevertheless, on doctor’s orders, Sir Wilfrid turns down the case,
referring Mayhew to Brogan-Moore, whom he holds in very high esteem. Moments
later, Leonard is arrested by police. Brogan-Moore confides in Sir Wilfred,
that he is not at all convinced of his client’s innocence, suggesting perhaps
Vole is using Christine as his alibi. This confidence seems to bear out after
Christine makes an impromptu visit to Sir Wilfrid’s. Her cool detachment
ruffling Sir Wilfred’s feathers. Although she facetiously confirms Leonard’s
story, she also insinuates her husband’s alibi has been well rehearsed. Appalled
by Christine’s matter-of-fact recitation of the facts, Sir Wilfrid becomes more
stubbornly determined than ever to unearth the truth. Moreover, Christine’s
deceptive nature has confirmed Sir Wilfrid’s faith in Leonard’s innocence.
Clearly, this woman has something awful to hide, perhaps even far more
nefarious to gain if Leonard is hanged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Brogan-Moore
prematurely concludes the case is hopeless. But Sir Wilfrid will not be
dissuaded. Instead, he dives headstrong into preparing Leonard’s defense. At
every possible turn, Sir Wilfrid’s faith in Leonard is emphatically tested -
first, by an affidavit signed by Mrs. French’s housekeeper, Janet McKenzie,
swearing to Leonard’s amorous manipulations and how they directly led to Mrs.
French drafting a new will – ergo, Leonard had prior knowledge about his
inheritance in the event of Emily’s death. Still, Leonard has a calm and
calculated answer for everything. No – he knew absolutely nothing of the
changes to the will. And no – the spurious cut sustained on his finger did not
come from his struggling to kill Emily; rather, the result of his
lackadaisically slicing through a loaf of bread.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It all sounds
right to Sir Wilfrid, who momentarily falls ill and is forced to withdraw from
the opening statements made at trial.
His spontaneous recovery is met with staunch defiance, also, an entrenched
impatience not to fail his client. Sir Wilfrid arrives at court with a flask of
brandy, lying to Miss Plimsoll that it is cocoa. As the prosecution, headed by
Mr. Myers (Torin Thatcher) bears down, Sir Wilfrid slyly pokes holes in Myers’
alternate theories of the crime. From the gallery, Miss Plimsoll takes notice
of a young woman quietly observing the proceedings with intense interest. The
trial continues with damning testimony given by several witnesses, including
Janet, whom Sir Wilfrid discredits as being hard of hearing, also by revealing she
had been the sole beneficiary to Emily French’s estate prior to Leonard Vole’s
romantic dalliances with the widow. Hence, in insisting upon Leonard’s guilt
now, presumably from having heard voices and a struggle through a heavy wooden
door, Janet is presumably still plotting to gain access to the late Mrs. French’s
money by seeing Leonard hanged for a crime he did not commit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The crown calls
Christine to the witness stand. It’s a slam dunk. Or is it? For Christine all
but convicts her husband by breaking down and revealing that she lied at
Leonard’s behest about the hour he came home on the night of the murder. The
crown rests with complete confidence. Sir Wilfrid now calls his only witness,
Leonard, who steadfastly pleads innocence.
However, under cross-examination, Mr. Myers gets Leonard to admit he and
an unidentified woman were seen at a nearby travel shop picking up brochures
for a cruise on the day Emily French was murdered. Leonard insists he was
harmlessly perusing the racks when the woman approached him. They were not a
couple nor even friends, but actually having met by chance at the travel shop. That
night, Sir Wilfrid wagers the trial is not going according to plan. Leonard may
very well hang. Distressed, Sir Wilfrid’s spirits prick up when he receives a
mysterious telephone call from an unnamed cockney guttersnipe, insisting she
knows the real scandal behind Christine Vole’s Teflon-coated façade and
encouraging Sir Wilfrid to meet at Euston Station. There, the woman offers Sir
Wilfrid proof of Christine’s own infidelity, letters reportedly written to a
lover named Max. Although Sir Wilfrid is intrigued, he is as reticent to put
forth uncorroborated evidence at trial. Alas, the guttersnipe vanishes into the
night. Against his better judgment, Sir Wilfrid interrupts his own closing
arguments to recall Christine to the stand for further testimony. He puts to
her the question of an illicit romance. Presumably under duress, she crumbles
and confesses. Armed with this salacious revelation, the jury quickly returns a
verdict of ‘not guilty’. Alas, their hasty exoneration gnaws at Sir Wilfrid. Now, he decides to casually confront Christine
who playfully confides her testimony was the truth, not because Leonard is
innocent, but rather because she already knew he was guilty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Christine
assumes the cockney accent of the guttersnipe, revealing how Wilfred has been
had. As the ramifications sink in, Leonard saunters as the proud peacock who
knew his wife would never let him down. Miss Plimsoll appears with a girl from
the gallery – Diana (Ruta Lee) who throws herself at Leonard’s head, claiming herself
to have been his lover for some time. Leonard callously explains to his
disbelieving wife, he always considered Christine’s perjury as payback for his
getting her out of Germany during the war. They’re even now, and he wants
absolutely nothing more to do with her. His future is with Diana. Viciously
stung by the specter of jealousy, Christine grabs the murder weapon from the
property table and plunges it into Leonard’s back. Guards rush in and apprehend
Christine. Miss Plimsoll kneels close to assess the damage. <i>“She’s killed
him.”</i> Plimsoll declares. “<i>She’s executed him,”</i> Sir Wilfrid
clarifies, already contemplating the prospect of taking on the case against
Christine Vole. As Sir Wilfrid and Miss
Plimsoll prepare to leave, she quietly asks Carter to cancel their Bermuda
respite - a promise earlier made by Sir Wilfrid, pending the outcome of
Leonard’s trial. Miss Plimsoll casually hands Sir Wilfrid his powder wig,
reminding him not to forget his flask of brandy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is charged with a weathervane of dramatic electricity almost from the first
scene to its last. It is a movie of such exquisitely crafted performances and
clever shifts in mood sustained by Billy Wilder’s evenly paced direction, that
it completely sustains our admiration as a truly inspired work of cinema art. By Wilder’s erudite and keenly honed
standards, this one ought to have come across as old-fashioned. If so, then in
the very best tradition of a Christie whodunit? and grandly amusing English
theater. Replete with double entendre and an air of Euro-sophistication for
which Wilder is justly renown, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> remains an
undeniably enveloping and high-spirited courtroom drama. Reportedly, Wilder
concealed the ending of his movie even to his cast until the very last day of
the shoot. Today, it is difficult, if not impossible to find anyone who does
not know how it will all turn out in the end. But the verdict isn’t really the
point of this piece, or even this exercise in celluloid melodrama. Instead,
Wilder never lets us forget <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the Prosecution</span></b> as a hallmark in
craftsmanship on two fronts – first, as Christie’s justly celebrated tale and
stagecraft, and second, as another high-water mark in Wilder’s own canon of
classic cinema storytelling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> has been reissued on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. Were that this was a ‘new’
4K remastering effort. Alas, no. It is a reprocessed 1080p with an expanded bit
rate. This allows for black levels to breath a bit more. They are, in fact,
ever-so-slightly richer than before. But comparatively, little has changed
between the original Blu from Kino in 2014 and this ‘remastered’ edition. The B&W
image was always solid and remains so here. Russell Harlan’s cinematography
shines. There is much fine detail to appreciate. Minute age-related artifacts, present
in the original Blu, survive here. They are never distracting. The DTS 2.0 mono
soundtrack has been upgraded from 16 to 24 bit. Does this really mean anything?
Sonically, no. Our ears still hear a
well-represented mono mix of a dialogue-driven movie with limitations in the original
recording techniques. To validate this reissue, Kino has added an audio
commentary from Wilder biographer and film historian, Joseph McBride, who
meanders through his vast knowledge of Wilder’s legacy and this movie’s
importance within it. Ported over from the previous disc, a 7-minute video
piece with director, Volker Schlöndorff from 2006 in German with English
subtitles, and, a badly worn 3-minute trailer. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Witness for the
Prosecution</span></b> is brilliant, peerless and wholly satisfying. The Blu? Not
perfect, and recommended only if you do not own Kino’s previous release.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">2</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-41418253100337343062024-02-04T10:38:00.002-05:002024-02-04T10:38:43.170-05:00FAITHLESS: Blu-ray (MGM, 1932) Warner Archive<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9iIqFZiIZkJgr7rYllx2PP-t-b_ILssNcybYH_6g-pUVjLS-Irxeau5T9B3n7QDfe2rxl7b65zoOZkgmDvSkoDWgPM5z03bWNX60cFgfp__xNePB6Lgs4u21kxYU6IUfPY5B8zcWQiIX6LbMliyRDYRIWAoNZlWFoiWroWBXTSxlomdmNVs_WT1qYUU/s1179/FAITHLESS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="905" height="549" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9iIqFZiIZkJgr7rYllx2PP-t-b_ILssNcybYH_6g-pUVjLS-Irxeau5T9B3n7QDfe2rxl7b65zoOZkgmDvSkoDWgPM5z03bWNX60cFgfp__xNePB6Lgs4u21kxYU6IUfPY5B8zcWQiIX6LbMliyRDYRIWAoNZlWFoiWroWBXTSxlomdmNVs_WT1qYUU/w422-h549/FAITHLESS.jpg" width="422" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Tallulah Bankhead
– a Southerner, Paramount contractee, and, sometimes <i>‘friend’</i> of Jock Whitney
– one of the richest men in America – costars with ‘then’ MGM ‘new find’ Robert
Montgomery in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></b> (1932) – a pre-code ‘nothing’ directed with
lugubrious ennui by Harry Beaumont. Bankhead’s career at Paramount had begun with high hopes, virtually squandered in five disposable movies that do not survive
their first impressions as being bad to downright terrible. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Faithless</b> </span>is
a minor step up…<i>a very minor one at that.</i> For although it boasts MGM’s usual
zeal for surface glamor, and Oliver T. Marsh’s sumptuous B&W
cinematography, at just a little over an hour-and-seventeen-minutes, it manages
to make the very least of</span> <span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Carey Wilson’s meandering screenplay, based on Mildred
Cram’s novella – <i>Tinfoil</i>. It is difficult to discount <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></b>
as a clunker outright, because Bankhead and Montgomery really are invested in
every word of dialogue they utter. It’s just that Wilson’s prose gives them
very little to emote beyond what is essentially an hour-long squabble about finances.
Setting the tale in the uber-wealthy milieu of the hoi poloi, contrasted with
darker realities seeping in about the Great Depression is a bit off-putting too
as even after Bankhead’s spoilt heiress, Carol Morgan discovers her vast
holdings have been either embezzled by her New York investors or spent to death
by her own devil-may-care boredom with the high life, she still cannot resign
herself to live off Montgomery’s advertising exec, Bill Wade’s $20,000 a
year salary. Just for context, twenty-grand today is roughly $447,804.38 – give
or take a penny. Very nice work if you can get it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Only Carol Morgan
doesn’t want it. Not even with the caveat of true love dangling before her
upturned nostrils. MGM, in a moment of artistic madness, chose to transform
Bankhead into a Garbo-esque knock-off, bedecked in sumptuous rags from horn to
hoof – leaving Bankhead ever more awkwardly, the mannequin in Swedish
hand-me-downs. With everything there is to bicker about in the world, Carol and
Bill cannot surrender the shop talk about how he will be able to keep his woman
in the manner to which she is accustom. Worse, his big, dumb male ego is
determined to force the bride to sell off her Park Avenue playhouse, trade in
her rocks and frocks for a modest home somewhere in the vicinity. So, hardly to
dump Manhattan for Bedford-Stuyvesant. But the real derailment of <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Faithless</b>
</span>occurs as a result of Carol’s lingering crave to claw her way back from bankruptcy.
This includes several laughably misguided attempts to screw her way to the
top. Bill’s a better man than most. He
is willing to forgive Carol just about anything. And, at intervals, she feigns
gratitude as well as fleeting interest to pick up where they protractedly left
off whenever greed engulfs her better judgement and the good sense God gave
a lemon. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's how it
all plays out. Manhattan socialite, Carol Morgan gives not a hoot for the
Depression. What she worry, when her cup runneth over with cash, jewels, furs
and the like? Desperately, deeply in love – she actually proposes to Bill – not
the other way around – Carol nevertheless breaks off her engagement when he
demands she forsake her wealth to live off his comparatively modest salary. Carol frowns on Bill’s work ethic. Why be
middle class when one could so easily motor by those neighborhoods in her Duesenberg?
An impromptu romp between the sheets seems to clear the air between them.
Except Carol turns down Bill's request for a speedy marriage at City Hall. No
go. However, when her attorney, Mr. Ledyard (Lawrence Grant) and financial
advisor, Mr. Grant (Henry Kolker) explain the dire situation in her own
finances – basically, everything’s gone – a momentarily contrite Carol runs
back to Bill. Too bad, the Depression has hit Bill’s firm hard. He’s out of a
job. Nevertheless, Bill proposes again. He and Carol can begin anew in Chicago
where he just may be able to secure another position, albeit, at a greatly
reduced annual income. Heaven’s no! Some money better than none?!? Ridiculous. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Disgusted by
Carol's arrogance, Bill's younger brother Tony (Maurice Murphy) admonishes her
and tries, later on, to get Bill to see Carol for her wicked ugliness. Instead,
Bill insists Carol’s heart is pure, even if her wealth has modestly corrupted
her common sense. Without Bill, Carol resorts to sponging off social climbers
with very deep pockets, using her name to carry her over the threshold.
Eventually, the cache in the social register dries up, forcing Carol to become
the mistress of Peter Blainey (Hugh Herbert). Bill finds Carol as Blainey’s
kept woman in a fashionable penthouse. She feigns confidence. But after Bill
departs in disgrace, Carol is disgusted with herself and ends the affair with
Blainey. Now, truly on her own, Carol takes up residence in a dirty tenement,
selling off what remains of her once glamorous wardrobe for a fraction of its
worth to Mrs. Mandel (Anna Appel) her greedy landlady. Destitute and starving,
Bill again tries to make Carol see the light. His is still struggling and about
to lose his job again. Nevertheless, Carol and Bill are wed. Hired as a
strikebreaker, Bill is severely injured while attempting to ram his truck to
break the picket line. Carol turns to prostitution to pay his medical bills,
inadvertently soliciting Tony. Arrested, Carol enjoys a reprieve when Police
Officer Clancy (Ben Taggart) helps her find gainful employment as a
hash-slinging waitress at a greasy spoon. Tony informs Bill about Carol,
unaware, at first, she is his sister-in-law. Returning home from her first day’s
‘honest work’, Carol confesses. But Bill is moved by the depths she has gone to
restore him to health. All is forgiven. Life goes on. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is a pretty
pedestrian affair. Interesting to consider this one as <i>pre-Code</i> because
in tone and atmosphere it plays it very safe from beginning to end with the foibles
and follies of repeated thwarted romantic love. Even Carol’s stint as a streetwalker
is of the sanitized ‘<i>come out of the rain’</i> ilk rather than that hard-as-nails
derivative witnessed in other pre-Code dillies like <b>Rain</b> (1932), and, <b>Of
Human Bondage</b> (1934). Hookers with a heart of gold would live on, in spite
of the code, and, later become even more decorous and slight under the
stringencies of Hollywood’s self-governing censorship. But truly, there is not
much sin or sex going on here – even without the code’s impediments. And Bill’s
chronic blind-spot where Carol is concerned, also, her sudden, but certain
realization she loves Bill for himself, renders the title of this piece fairly
moot. If anything, Bill and Carol prove their fidelity to be <i>faithful </i>–
not, <i>faithless</i>. In the end, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></b> is a movie that challenges
neither the code nor our hearts to respect the sanctity of two people who,
despite being averted with every witless roadblock in the cheaply popularized
celluloid melodrama, eventually come together as we always suspected they
would: wham!...like a couple of taxis on Broadway! <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>arrives on
Blu-ray via the Warner Archive. WAC continues to mine such chestnuts ahead of
an embarrassment of bona fide classics still awaiting the hi-def treatment. To what
purpose? Not sure. Presumably, the audience for <b>Faithless</b> is far less
than, say…<b>Captain Blood, Around the World in 80 Days, Random Harvest,
Scaramouche</b>, and on and on. And money spent on remastering such minor
movies is money taken away from achieving greater things on movies far more
deserving of that effort. But I digress. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></b> looks stellar in
hi-def. Every ounce of integrity has been lifted off Ollie Marsh’s B&W
cinematography. The image is appropriately dark and nuanced. Grayscale tonality
is uniformly excellent. Fine detail abounds. The image is occasionally soft,
but this is owed to Marsh’s camera and film stocks from the period. It’s a
great looking disc. It also sounds pretty spiffy – the limitations of Westrex
early sound recording, tempered by some effort to keep everything in check.
Perhaps recognizing how ‘thin’ this program actually is, WAC has given us a
musical short, plus two almost half-hour-long <i>Inspector Carr</i> mystery shorts.
Personally, I enjoyed these more than the feature. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Faithless</span></b>
is gutless. The Blu has been paid far more respect than this movie deserves.
Judge and buy accordingly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">1</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">3.5</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-226104695373924782024-02-03T17:08:00.000-05:002024-02-03T17:08:28.474-05:00THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER: Blu-ray (Warner Bros., 1937) Warner Archive<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGkbrBo2HBStaiSIWP5oKemHjJVVKzzUiSrPoglmbq3gLxrL6Zam0YqyfxHqSfC4dV2pg0W96_Vz2xqSzXXxvJQ3v6MP9iD8TdjuYP1sg-Mvpdavm3IHtyHFZPP1WeUN5u5KNcSIr-ZSGRx_mh5_VPd7zKxBU0cakhMfuQKF7PB0v8ss4U1YmhQWOab8/s1185/THE%20PRINCE%20AND%20THE%20PAUPER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1185" data-original-width="896" height="581" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGkbrBo2HBStaiSIWP5oKemHjJVVKzzUiSrPoglmbq3gLxrL6Zam0YqyfxHqSfC4dV2pg0W96_Vz2xqSzXXxvJQ3v6MP9iD8TdjuYP1sg-Mvpdavm3IHtyHFZPP1WeUN5u5KNcSIr-ZSGRx_mh5_VPd7zKxBU0cakhMfuQKF7PB0v8ss4U1YmhQWOab8/w440-h581/THE%20PRINCE%20AND%20THE%20PAUPER.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crossed swords. A palace in peril. Derring-do, and a dashing dude to do it. William
Keighley’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Prince and The Pauper</span></b> (1937) is an enchanting cinematic
revision of the much beloved Mark Twain classic – originally published by subscription in 1881
in Canada. The book, Twain’s maiden foray into historical fiction, charts the
intrigues of a palace coup with an even bigger bait and switch – replacing the
future King of England with a common, impoverished wretch from the streets. In
an inspired bit of casting, twins, William and Robert J. Mauch made indelible
impressions as Prince Edward and Tom Canty. Both boys were under contract to
Warner Bros. and had appeared separately to excellent effect in <b>Anthony
Adverse</b>, <b>The White Angel</b>, and, <b>The Charge of the Light Brigade</b>
(all 3 made and released the year before). Alas, Twain’s adventure yarn was
thrown slightly off balance by the inclusion of Errol Flynn as Miles Hendon
(originally intended for Patric Knowles), a fairly inconsequential character in
the book, but, owing to Flynn’s ever-rising stature as the studio’s #1 matinee
heartthrob, an integral figure in this cinematic retelling. Still, it took some
thirty-odd-minutes for Flynn to appear on the screen. On the cusp of being cast
as that perennially satisfying rogue in tights, Robin Hood, Jack L. Warner,
already knowing of Flynn’s prowess in a cod-piece, likely was testing that
appeal with this comparatively minor costume programmer before spending
lavishly on his Technicolor epic. And Flynn, at the height of his sex appeal
and physical agility, was, with few exceptions, never wilier nor more
incredibly debonair than in this lustily scripted swashbuckler.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The year is 1547.
Edward (Bobby Mauch) awaits as the spoiled heir to the Tudor English throne. He
is an opinionated, self-centered, minor nuisance; his days spent in amiable
play with Lady Jane Grey (Ann Howard), Lady Elizabeth (Gwendolyn Jones) and his
Jester (Leo White). Nevertheless, Edward loves his father – the badly ailing
King Henry VIII (Montagu Love). Somewhere in London we find Tom Canty (Billy
Mauch) - a child of the streets. Although life has been bitter and cruel, Tom
has retained a nobler integrity wed to his street savvy wit. This has sustained
him during his many hardships. However, when Edward accidentally meets Tom, his
playful petty larceny is put into high gear. Why not let this poor urchin
occupy his throne for a spell while he – Edward – mingles with the commoners in
search of new adventures away from the constant scrutiny of court life? Alas,
as the boys have traded apparel, and bear an uncanny physical resemblance to
each other, Edward is thus mistaken for Tom by the Captain of the Guard (Alan
Hale) and ruthlessly driven from the palace into the streets. Meanwhile, Tom
innocently tries to set the record straight. Alas, his protestations are
misperceived as mental illness, leaving the King deeply concerned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile,
Edward’s ‘trusted’ adviser, the Earl of Hertford (Claude Rains at his devious
best), with the complicity of the Duke of Norfolk (Henry Stephenson) is
plotting to murder the young Prince and take over the throne. Only the King’s
Captain of the Guard remains loyal. Mistaking Tom for Edward, the Earl
imprisons him in the tower, declaring a regency in the King’s ‘absence.’ Into
this fray of royal intrigues arrives fortune hunter, Miles Hendon (Errol Flynn)
– a cunning and handsome rapscallion. By happenstance, Miles finds Edward,
masquerading as Tom. Learning of the immediacy of the situation, Edward
commands Hendon to assist in restoring him to the throne. At first, unconvinced,
Hendon treats Edward with mild contempt – a sobering experience for the
boy/King used to getting his own way. Eventually, Hendon is humbled by the
truth and decides he must set everything right - for King, country and the
healthy profit it will likely derive. It all ends pleasantly enough in a very
un-Twain-like display of crossed swords, culminating in a coronation to make
even legit/Brit royalty blush. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The Prince
and the Pauper</span></b> is a lot of fun. But waiting for Flynn to appear on camera
is a bit of a slog, regardless of how competently Laird Doyle’s screenplay has
managed to expedite the details of the ‘back story’ before Edward and Tom met.
Claude Rains is an exceptionally suave and menacing baddie and his venom
sustains many a scene before Flynn begins to chew up the scenery. The Mauch
twins, while occasionally teetering on the verge of precociousness, never take
the tumble into what, so easily, could have devolved into another costumed
cloak and dagger dilly with oodles of sloppy charm to spare. Doyle’s dalliances
with Twain, actually basing his work on playwright, Catherine C. Cushing’s
stagecraft, favors Flynn once he arrives on the scene. But the transition and refocusing of the tale
is never awkward or stultifying. Keighley’s direction, wed to Sol Polito’s
gorgeous cinematography and vibrant underscore by Eric Wolfgang Korngold, make
for an effective package. And production design here is absolutely first rate. In
one of Hollywood’s genuine ironies, the Mauch Twins never did much in Hollywood
after this – a genuine pity, since<i> they, not Flynn,</i> are the real/reel reason
this version of Twain’s masterwork has retained its luster with the passage of
time, and, is still considered the definitive cinematic version of this story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arriving on
Blu-ray from the Warner Archive, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>The Prince and the Pauper</b> </span>sports
another impressive transfer. A handful of scenes are soft. Owing to film
stocks, age-related wear and tear or improper storage? Any one or all three
would likely contribute to the picture looking decades older than it actually
does here. The grayscale is gorgeous. There’s a silver sheen here with few
opportunities for truly black ‘blacks’. But contrast is uniformly excellent.
Age-related artifacts are not an issue. Everything is up to snuff, and then
some. The 2.0 DTS mono is remarkably
resilient. Extremely disappointing…the extras. Three <b><i>Merrie Melodies</i></b>
shorts and a trailer are all we get.
Bottom line: swashbucklers are an acquired taste. But once you’ve
acquired it, they become a joyous way to effortlessly spend an afternoon. And <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">The
Prince and the Pauper</span></b> is among the finest efforts in that subgenre of
perilous adventure. WAC’s Blu-ray is solid and attractive. Let’s hope we get more
such offerings in the next 11 months. Very highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 - 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-60035047516876522692024-02-03T11:35:00.009-05:002024-02-03T12:02:44.922-05:00A DAY AT THE RACES: Blu-ray (MGM, 1937) Warner Archive<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlQJk_oKqohS-vISsNJWwkYJx6K8vuzOpgU7S_QYbLqUC-zjR1IoS_e2tHa56JdMRDQBYzK7fD5l96O_2l5CpD7-sC21_MyCnlZWRWbeefadO1-7RhzdO3YoypdUwT6TNmcScdHUIkmQXfqL_JQOsWrKFgttOKS7BgS0Ba-zaH8qLwsY9j3UQWoHxp3M/s1188/A%20DAY%20AT%20THE%20RACES.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1188" data-original-width="893" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlQJk_oKqohS-vISsNJWwkYJx6K8vuzOpgU7S_QYbLqUC-zjR1IoS_e2tHa56JdMRDQBYzK7fD5l96O_2l5CpD7-sC21_MyCnlZWRWbeefadO1-7RhzdO3YoypdUwT6TNmcScdHUIkmQXfqL_JQOsWrKFgttOKS7BgS0Ba-zaH8qLwsY9j3UQWoHxp3M/w448-h595/A%20DAY%20AT%20THE%20RACES.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">When The Marx Bros.
decamped Paramount Pictures in the fall of 1935 it was under a decided cloud of
suspicion that their best days as ribald anti-establishment comedians were
decidedly behind them; an
assumption predicated on <b>Duck Soup</b> (1935) their most costly picture to
date, performing a decided belly flop at the box office. Front man, Groucho was
even more apoplectic upon learning brother, Zeppo had decided to walk away as
the act’s ‘straight man’. Was this the end of the Marx Brothers? Decidedly not,
as Chico – an avid lady’s man, gambler and all-around bon vivant had been
playing cards with the likes of MGM’s wunderkind, Irving Thalberg. Apart from
amusing the studio’s VP in Charge of Production, Thalberg was an ardent admirer
of the brothers’ stagecraft and early film spectacles. And hence, a new deal
was struck at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer – the Cartier of all the majors. Alas, L.B. Mayer was unimpressed by Thalberg’s
latest acquisition. In the years leading up to Thalberg’s untimely passing,
Thalberg and Mayer had butted heads when plying their disparate executive logic
to the studio’s impressive output. Mayer
wanted to make more movies cheaply. Thalberg endeavored to spend more on single
productions, making them vastly superior to anything made by their competition.
So long as Thalberg’s uncanny knack for cultivating talent and topics the
public flocked to see made the studio and its stockholders money, Mayer was
powerless to influence or reign-in his VP’s spending. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then,
tragedy struck. Thalberg suddenly died of pneumonia at age 37, leaving a vast
assortment of lavishly mounted projects in Metro’s hopper to be completed in
his absence. There is little to deny, had Thalberg lived, the Marx Bros.’ at
MGM would have been quite different. Indeed, their foray at the studio – <b>A Night
at the Opera</b> (1935) was celebrated as a renaissance. Important to note, it is a decidedly
different Marx Bros. who appear at MGM than those familiarized on celluloid at
Paramount. And it isn’t simply the retirement of Zeppo to have changed the
chemistry in their output. While the executive brain trust at Paramount was
contented to merely shoot movie tableaus of the brothers’ work honed to a
finite precision on the stage, Thalberg’s ambition for the comedy act was to
transform it into a truly cinematic experience. So, along with the Marx Bros.’ irreverence
for authority came the trappings of MGM; chiefly, in production numbers inserted
at intervals to showcase the studio’s opulence. Alas, the fate of the Marx Bros.
was sealed almost from the outset of their arrival on the backlot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mayer did not
share in Thalberg’s verve for their particular brand of comedy. Worse, while
shooting <b>A Night at the Opera</b>, Groucho insulted Mayer who, showing up on
set one afternoon and asking Groucho to explain the purpose of a particular
scene was met with, <i>“What do you care? We’re working for Thalberg. Not you.”</i>
Badly done, if for no other reason than to have firmly chomped on the proverbial
‘hand’ feeding them. Groucho believed his cache with Thalberg afforded him a
certain autonomy. Perhaps. It was, after all, Groucho who set the tone for
their working relationship. Initially invited into Thalberg’s private office
for a contractual tête-à-tête, Groucho and the brothers became increasingly
incensed when the V.P.’s attentions were redirected to other projects for which
Thalberg had to excuse himself from their presence. After the fourth such
interruption, Groucho called down to MGM’s commissary to send up three potatoes.
When Thalberg returned to his office sometime later, he was amused to discover Groucho
and his brethren, stripped naked and roasting their potatoes in his fireplace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thalberg was
determined <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the Races</span></b> (1937) should eclipse <b>A Night at the Opera</b>
in very way. To this end, he set about meticulously crafting a lavish program,
culled from time-honored Marx Bros. sketches, new comedy material written by an
uncredited Al Boasberg and Leon Gordon, several opulent, if strangely bizarre
musical numbers, and, a screenplay by George S. Kaufman and Carey Wilson to tie
everything together. It all looked very impressive on paper. But then, Thalberg
was suddenly gone and with him, the necessary protection for the brothers to achieve
great things. As too much had already been spent on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the Races</span></b>
to cancel it outright, Mayer proceeded according to Thalberg’s likes. Curiously
lost in the shuffle was the melodic love ballad, ‘<i>A Message from the Man in
the Moon’</i> – recorded by co-star, Allan Jones (fitted into the Zeppo role)
but never filmed, although it is referenced everywhere in the picture,
including the main titles and a few choice lines warbled by Groucho to the
long-suffering and unofficial ‘fifth’ Marx brother, Margaret Dumont before the
final fade out. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even more curious still,
the surviving score by Bronislaw Kaper, Walter Jurmann, and Gus Kahn is a real
mixed bag. ‘<i>On Blue Venetian Waters’</i> is the most striking oddity. It
begins with Allan Jones’ enviable vocal, serenading a bevy of beauties in a stylized
gondola set against a towering spray of fountainheads. As the gondola departs
and the waters recede, we are introduced to an art deco petrified forest and a
swirling proscenium of dancers, staged in the fashion of Busby Berkeley, but
without Berkeley’s precision. Emerging from the fray; specialty dancer, Vivien Fey
who pirouettes on toe shoes. ‘<i>On Blue Venetian Waters’</i> is later reprised
by Chico at the piano and Harpo – appropriately, at the harp. Clearly, MGM
thought it had a hit parade pop tune with this one. Allan Jones warbles the
largely forgettable, ‘<i>Tomorrow Is Another Day</i>.’ And then, there is the
wildly out of place lindy hop routine, ‘<i>All God's Chillun Got Rhythm’</i>, a
showcase for Ivie Anderson – who, otherwise, has no purpose in this movie. It
also features some stellar stepping from Willamae Ricker, Snookie Beasley, Ella
Gibson, George Greenidge, Dot Miller, Johnny Innis, Norma Miller and Leon James.
Groucho was also extremely disappointed that his own specialty number, ‘<i>Dr.
Hackenbush’</i> was cut. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">If Thalberg had
lived, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the Races</span></b> might not have devolved so quickly into a behind
the scenes tug-o-war, going through eighteen drafts, with Al Boasberg being
stripped of his screen credit after a contractual dispute. The plot begins in
earnest with a defeated Judy Standish (Maureen O’Sullivan) looking on as ambitious
attempts made by her right-hand, Tony (Chico Marx) to lure visitors to attend
her sanitarium are ignored in favor of guests departing for the nearby race
track, hotels and nightclubs. It seems the end of the line for Judy, as banker,
J.D. Morgan (Douglas Drumbrille) holds the mortgage and plots to foreclose to
build his new casino. But Tony conspires to get wealthy hypochondriac, Emily
Upjohn (Margaret Dumont) to fork out for a respite at the sanitarium. Pronounced
as cured by the sanitarium’s doctors, Mrs. Upjohn makes plans to place herself
in the care of Dr. Hugo Z. Hackenbush (Groucho Marx) who, unbeknownst to her,
is a horse doctor. To thwart Upjohn’s exit, Tony gets Judy to appoint
Hackenbush the new head of the sanitarium, thus assuring its most profitable
client will remain in their care. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, Judy's
beau, Gil Stewart (Allan Jones) has spent his entire life-savings on Hi-Hat – a
racehorse he believes has potential to win prize money to save Judy’s
sanitarium. With no money to pay for the
horse’s feed, Gil, Tony and jockey, Stuffy (Harpo Marx) resort to tricks to
steal enough cash and keep their fledgling enterprise afloat. Morgan engages Dr.
Leopold X. Steinberg (Sig Rumann) to expose Hackenbush as a fraud with the Florida
Medical Board. Mercifully, Groucho intercepts the call and creates numerous diversions
until Steinberg and his crony, Whitmore (Leonard Ceeley) give up. At a gala water
carnival, Gil, Tony and Stuffy perform. But now, Whitmore tries to get
Hackenbush fired by having Mrs. Upjohn catch him in a clinch with temptress,
Flo (Esther Muir), As Stuffy gets wind of this plot, he poses as the house
detective and intercepts their discovery. Meanwhile, Judy discovers Hi-Hat is a
jumper, not a racer, and encourages Gil to enter the horse in the steeplechase.
During the race, Hi-Hat collides with Morgan’s horse, making it appear as though
Morgan’s horse has won. However, when the mud is cleared, Hi-Hat is revealed as
the victor. Judy’s sanitarium is saved. Mrs. Upjohn forgives Hackenbush and
agrees to marry him. The entire cast rejoices. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the
Races</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is a farce-laden spectacle directed by Sam Wood, more famously regarded
as a proficient artist of the celluloid drama. However, its gargantuan set
pieces aside, it really is a mixed blessing at best. The prolonged ‘examination’
of Mrs. Upjohn by Hackenbush, Tony and Stuffy – culminating with a waterlogged
fire alarm triggering Hi-Hat to come to their rescue, is overwrought in its
silliness. The timing just seems off for a Marx Bros. skit, the gags running on
to a point of abject tedium. It’s all exacerbated by the decidedly ‘un-funny’
reactions of Sig Rumann and Douglas Drumbrille. The most riotous moments are
the ‘Tootsie-Frootsie’ ice cream skit where Tony repeatedly sells Hackenbush
bits and pieces of a code-deciphering text so he can place a valid bet on a
pony, and, Hackenbush’s interrupted flagrante delicto with Flo, culminating with
her being stuffed beneath the cushions of a sofa. As previously discussed, the production
numbers in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the Races</span></b> lack cohesion. Their clumsy staging is
only partially obfuscated by MGM’s A-lister production values. Alas, each
number interrupts the plot without actually contributing to it. Margaret Dumont’s
charms warm her scenes with Groucho. They endure. But Maureen O’Sullivan and
Allan Jones lack the appropriate chemistry as the ‘young lovers’ of the piece. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the
Races</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> was the costliest Marx Bros. movie yet. And while it proved a huge hit
with audiences, the Marx Bros.’ prominence as bonified comedy legends,
thereafter, was allowed to languish. Without Thalberg’s advocacy, Mayer began
their constructive dismantling; first, by loaning them to RKO to make a quick
buck for the inferior, <b>Room Service</b> (1938), then by recalling the
brothers for three homegrown, but rapidly executed programmers, <b><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">Herer<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At the Circus </span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(1939), <b>Go
West</b> (1940) and <b>The Big Store</b> (1941), merely designed to exploit
their waning popularity, without spending anything to actually advance their
status in the industry. Disgruntled, the Marx Bros. departed MGM, supposedly to
retire for good. It lasted barely 4 years, thanks to mounting gambling debts.
Returning for the brutally B-budgeted flicks, <b>A Night in Casablanca</b>
(1946) and <b>Love Happy</b> (1949), the Marx Bros. un-officially bowed out.
While virtually all continued to appear in cameos, either on TV or at the
movies, they were never again to unite as ‘the act’ that had made them cultural
touchstones in the art of comedy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the
Races</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive in a stunningly handsome
hi-def transfer with no complaints. Intermittently, the image tends to appear ever
so slightly soft, perhaps the result of Joseph Ruttenberg’s B&W
cinematography, rather than any grave flaw in this remastering effort. It all
looks quite lovely, and decades younger than it ought. Gray scale tonality is beautiful.
Blacks are velvety rich. Whites are pristine. Age-related artifacts have been
eradicated. Film grain appears ever-so-slight homogenized, although untoward
tinkering with DNR does not appear to be the culprit here. The 2.0 DTS audio is
marvelous. Ported over from the old DVD, an audio commentary from author, Glenn
Mitchell. We also get the vintage half-hour documentary, <b>On Your Marx</b>
hosted by Dom De Luise. It’s interlaced and looks horrible, but has great interviews
with Maureen O’Sullivan, Irving Brecher, Carl Reiner, Larry Gelbart and Robert
Osborne. Three MGM cartoons and one short subject, plus audio-only recordings
of ‘<i>A Message from the Man in the Moon’</i> and ‘<i>Dr. Hackenbush’</i>, and
a well-worn trailer, round out the goodies. Bottom line: running just under
2hrs., <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">A Day at the Races</span></b> wears thin in spots. But it remains the final testament
to the Marx Bros. genius; also, that of the late Irving Thalberg, who would
have likely made many more such forays on the brothers’ behalf, had fate not so
cruelly intervened in that life cut short by illness. Is this their best work?
Hardly. Is it a lot of fun? You bet. Judge and buy accordingly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">3.5</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-72858267097045045902024-02-03T09:01:00.004-05:002024-02-03T09:01:13.168-05:00CABIN IN THE SKY: Blu-ray (MGM, 1943) Warner Archive<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZm-A7CWa80PooIn1NeAg_yY-V3V6RvJgDXhFxeQMDt9l05gFIQY6D1p-JwQY9jDwweXrcxumpCIMChWoqhdpZISLN_HG91cEpBQkS_SIUpBlHGn9eUgs56Fj32wTkI0YshgChaMKY8QW6ei8xXmrlAEWR2ymrDRkZ9lhdrJ6jiE6Fze9lxb-legbX9I/s1183/CABIN%20IN%20THE%20SKY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1183" data-original-width="889" height="559" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZm-A7CWa80PooIn1NeAg_yY-V3V6RvJgDXhFxeQMDt9l05gFIQY6D1p-JwQY9jDwweXrcxumpCIMChWoqhdpZISLN_HG91cEpBQkS_SIUpBlHGn9eUgs56Fj32wTkI0YshgChaMKY8QW6ei8xXmrlAEWR2ymrDRkZ9lhdrJ6jiE6Fze9lxb-legbX9I/w419-h559/CABIN%20IN%20THE%20SKY.jpg" width="419" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Any intelligent
critique of Vincente Minnelli’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b> (1943) must first lay
to rest whatever critical, and perhaps misguided reservations persist about racism
and its ‘place’ in American-made movies from this period. To begin with, the
black perspective had, until 1943, been largely relegated to a paternal
quaintness, either for the benevolent slave or dutiful domestic. If blacks were
featured in the movies at all, they were represented as unquestioning and
subservient appendages to the white establishment. With the advantage of
hindsight, such portrayals serve a rather fanciful and ‘comforting’
reconstitution of the black race as simple-minded folk, non-threatening to
white privilege, or, as socially retarded figures of fun, to amuse and assuage
whites of their first stirrings of 20<sup>th</sup> century guilt over having
calculatingly eclipsed contributions made by blacks in virtually all spheres of
influence, of which, the movies, as the prevailing form of pop-u-tainment then,
had become the latest pantheon to limit their participation. Arguably, Minnelli
could relate to such ostracization. For although he had spent his first decade
steadily establishing a peerless reputation on Broadway as a creative artiste, as
a closeted bisexual, such cache in live theater was hardly assurance he could
make the leap from stage to screen, as his disastrous foray into films at
Paramount had distinctly proven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thus, when
Minnelli agreed to return to Hollywood for a second bite at the same apple,
this time his venue – MGM – and his mentorship, under producer, Arthur Freed,
would prove a far more liberating experience. During the brief interval where
Minnelli had forsaken the stage for the backlots at Paramount, Broadway’s focus
had decidedly shifted from the revue-styled showcases that, for Minnelli, had proven
a panacea to fully explore and indulge his creative genius. And so, Minnelli’s
retreat back to Hollywood was, again – in hindsight – something of a last-ditch
effort to re-establish himself as a prolific workhorse; albeit, one with a keen
and piercing artistic bent for escapist perfectionism. To suggest Minnelli’s initial contract at MGM
was a bit vague is putting things mildly. He was brought out on a modest $300 a
week stipend to ‘contribute’ to Metro’s pantheon of productions; erroneously billed
as a ‘dance director’ despite the fact Minnelli had no previous choreographic
experience. Drawing clarity from the opacity of these terms, Minnelli plied his
wares to the film version of <b>Panama Hattie</b> (1942) – a glossy, but
severely ailing production, he managed to augment with the few bright spots later
singled out in reviews. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">After nearly
2-years apprenticeship, Minnelli was given <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b> to direct, although
‘stature’ was hardly a word bandied by MGM’s publicity department. Budgeted at $679,260, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b>
was a solid, but decidedly ‘B’ effort – and easily, the cheapest Freed unit
musical to emerge from the decade. The studio’s raja, L.B. Mayer was keenly
aware that its premise and all-black cast would, in all likelihood, be expunged
from theater marquees across the deep South, cutting into its overall
profitability. Worse, all-black revues were hardly in vogue with ‘progressive’
white audiences. To date, Hollywood had only made 4 such efforts, of which King
Vidor’s <b>Hallelujah</b> (1929) was then still considered the gold-standard
bearer. Meanwhile, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky </span></b>had
been a moderate success on Broadway where tastes ran the gamut towards
tolerance rather than acceptance. To be certain, Lynn Root, Vernon Duke and
John La Touche’s morality play about a wayward do-gooder, Joe (Eddie Rochester
Anderson) and his determined and forthright spouse, Petunia (Ethel Waters)
played it safe, relying heavily on stereotype of blacks as benevolent
innocents, brought under the yoke of their devout religious beliefs. Yet,
Minnelli would temper this candy-floss assessment with some humanist touches
that brought forth each character from its cardboard cutout precociousness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the sky</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>stars the
incredible Ethel Waters whose scandalously temperamental nature (she was a
force to be reckoned with) is legendary. And yet, Waters and Minnelli had
developed a symbiosis working together on Broadway. Even more impressive, their
mutual admiration carried over into their work on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b>. Waters
was to pull rank in her demands for star-billing after discovering MGM intended
to use <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b> to launch their own contractee, Lena Horne’s
career. Minnelli had directed Horne’s
isolated solo routines in the aforementioned <b>Panama Hattie</b>. For Horne, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin
in the Sky</span></b> proved a somewhat bittersweet epitaph to her aspirations to
become an actress. For the duration of her MGM career, it would remain the only
time Horne was allowed not merely to ‘appear’ in glossy production numbers, but
also emote in dramatic scenes as a star of the first magnitude. Cast as the
smoldering temptress, Georgia Brown, Horne’s participation in <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Cabin in the
Sky</b> </span>replaced the stages’ Katherine Dunham, just as Eddie Anderson
supplanted Dooley Wilson for the coveted co-starring role of Joe. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The plot of Lynn
Root’s play, gingerly fleshed out by screenwriter, Joseph Schrank with an
uncredited assist from Marc Connelly, follows the deep lamentations of Petunia
Jackson (Ethel Waters) in getting her husband, Little Joe (Eddie Anderson) to
side with God’s merciful and pure-hearted teachings for wedded bliss. Joe is
not a bad man. But he is weak, and seemly fatally wounded over some unpaid
gambling debts owed Domino Johnson (John W. Sublett). Petunia’s faith is instrumental
in getting the angels of ‘De Lawd’ to give her husband a second chance. But it
also stirs the devil, Lucius (Rex Ingram) into plying Joe with every vice in
order to lure his immortal soul to eternal damnation. Secretly guided by God’s ‘general’
(Kenneth Spencer), Joe’s contrition is thwarted by Lucifer Jr. (also Ingram)
who arranges for Joe to win the lottery, thereby introducing him to the vices
of wealth as represented by the gold-digging sinner, Georgia Brown (Horne).
Momentarily, at least, sin proves victorious. Joe forsakes Petunia for Georgia
and the couple embark upon a hedonist life together in the big city. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Undaunted, Petunia
dons the trappings of a vamp and appears at the nightclub patronized by Joe and
Georgia, determined as ever to win her husband back. Praying for God to avenge,
a tornado suddenly appears on the horizon, driving patrons from the club before
leveling its roof into the dust. Tragically, Petunia and Joe lay in the rubble,
mortally wounded by Domino. As they expire, Petunia prays for Joe’s redemption.
However, it is only after ‘the general’ informs them that Georgia, so affected
by the tragedy after previously having embezzled all of Joe’s ill-gotten gains,
has decided since to donate everything to the church, that Joe is also granted
admission into heaven along with his saintly wife. As the two begin their
ascendance toward the afterlife, Joe suddenly stirs in his own bed. The whole
encounter has been a fevered dream. Though his gunshot wound is real, it was
never actually fatal. A newly reformed Joe vows to assume his previous life as
a devoted husband to Petunia, who is grateful for his contrition. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite its tight
budget, MGM put two of its best songsmiths, Harold Arlen and E. Y. Harburg on the
assignment to flesh out the Duke-Latouche Broadway score. They also brought in
Marc Connelly whose monumentally affecting all-black reconstitution of Bible
stories, <b>The Green Pastures</b> (1936, for which he not only wrote but
directed) had been made into a successful movie. Interestingly, while Connelly
contributed much to the final polish of Schrank’s screenplay, he requested no
screen credit for these efforts. Conscious of Arthur Freed’s faith in him,
Minnelli dug in for the real heavy-lifting here, maneuvering swiftly through
the narrative with affecting, though decidedly, self-restrained efforts to achieve
artistry on a budget. Minnelli succeeds, though never entirely to veer into the
sort of brashly creative escapism afforded his latter efforts. And while there
is little from a modern perspective to deny Minnelli was working from
patronizing source material, viewing <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b> today, one is
immediately struck by how well much – if not all – of its well-intended white
perspective on black culture holds up, even under our presently ‘woke’ age of
jaundice-eyed scrutiny. The simplicity of its caricatures is tempered by
Minnelli’s astute perceptions to treat the actors with a certain innate dignity.
This carries the bulk of their performances far across the threshold of mere,
even unflattering stereotypes. And, at least, retrospectively, it offers
audiences the rarest opportunity to bask in Lena Horne’s capacity, not only as
a much-celebrated vocalist, but brilliant actress besides. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shot photochemically
on nitrate stock, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the Sky</span></b> on Blu-ray from the Warner Archive
appears utterly ravishing from start to finish. Sourced from properly curated
negatives, what’s here is breathtaking and belied the movie’s 81<sup>st</sup>
anniversary. There is virtually nothing to quibble about. Gray scale? Superb.
Contrast? Uniformly excellent. Film grain? Accurately reproduced. Fine details?
Astounding. The 2.0 DTS mono audio is as impressive with no age-related
anomalies and delivering a sonic experience that soars. We get an audio
commentary cobbled together from insights offered by professors, Todd Boyd and
Drew Casper, Evangela and Eva Anderson, Lena Horne and Fayard Nicholas. There’s
also a <b>Pete Smith Specialty </b>and an audio outtake of Louis Armstrong
performing ‘<i>Ain’t It the Truth’</i>.
Curiously, the outtake of Lena Horne performing this number in a bubble
bath is NOT included here. It was seen in <b>That’s Entertainment! Part III</b>,
so its omission is odd. Last, but not least, a badly worn theatrical
trailer. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Cabin in the
Sky</span></b> remains a classy and classic Hollywood hybrid musical. Despite MGM’s budgetary
restrictions, Vincente Minnelli manages to hew a superior product. The Blu-ray
is a stunner. Very highly recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">2.5</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-43990258897437600882024-01-13T10:12:00.003-05:002024-01-13T10:15:21.824-05:00NORTH AND SOUTH: THE COMPLETE DVD COLLECTION (David L. Wolper Productions/Warner Bros., 1985, 86, 94) Warner Home Video <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExqpzFwMt1-OAo44mU3Avq7pvJYQi1Vq5U_ArsVhpIZwP7l2e7nIF94FWKUJrJ93b-2EqaOkN_zMEeG2R4u7bVLJLjUjLSVMMra6BQsdoMIccy72IWKNdh3cNvH90FMFspkUYX-DUPVVfT-a9Yy10rCYPb3dWfMBclRn9_XW30cZQbWPTFDsie0MX56w/s1424/NORTH%20AND%20SOUTH.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1424" data-original-width="981" height="616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExqpzFwMt1-OAo44mU3Avq7pvJYQi1Vq5U_ArsVhpIZwP7l2e7nIF94FWKUJrJ93b-2EqaOkN_zMEeG2R4u7bVLJLjUjLSVMMra6BQsdoMIccy72IWKNdh3cNvH90FMFspkUYX-DUPVVfT-a9Yy10rCYPb3dWfMBclRn9_XW30cZQbWPTFDsie0MX56w/w424-h616/NORTH%20AND%20SOUTH.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">ABC’s miniseries
of John Jakes’ <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> (1985-94) has been dubbed <i>“television’s
<b>Gone with the Wind</b>”</i> - high praise indeed, though, suggestively
untrue. There are, of course, parallels between the two similarly themed
properties - some blatantly transparent, beyond the time frame and real estate;
the Rhett and Scarlett-esque romance between cultured Southern gentleman, Orry
Main (Patrick Swayze) and fiery belle, Madeline Fabray-LaMotte (Lesley Anne
Down). Also, the brazen ‘homage’ to Hattie McDaniel’s Mammie in Olivia Coles'
Creole lady’s maid, Maum Sally. Setting aside these rip-offs, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and
South</span></b> remains an epic undertaking in its own right, its recreations of the
gallant and soon to be embattled Southern gentry – the plantation-owning Mains
of South Carolina – eloquently paralleled with the prosperity of a prominent
Yankee clan, the Pennsylvanian Hazards – who operate an iron works. John Jakes’
novel is a sprawling saga about the similarities, rather than the differences,
between these two affluent families, and, the social conflict arising from
their varying inabilities to come to terms with the shifting ground of
turbulent times quaking beneath their feet. So much for the novel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Producer, David
L. Wolper has far more ambitious plans for his miniseries, using the general
framework of Jakes’ magnum opus to stir into reality a huge ensemble
period/costume drama, essentially built upon the clichés that made <b>Gone With
The Wind</b> such an enduring masterpiece in American cinema. Where comparisons
differ is in the luridly operatic approach taken by Wolper. Whereas producer,
David O. Selznick’s towering achievement of 1939 avoids cheaply erotic
sentiment, Wolper’s tampering with Jakes’ novel wallows in that spectacular
chestnut, resurrecting the South a la <b>Gone With The Wind</b> by way of <b><i>Lady
Chatterly’s Lover</i></b> and on a far more expansive, though arguably, much
less refined scale, occasionally to yield an even more glossy
product, minus the artistic sense to gently tug on the bridle of
unbridled passion, merely to tell a good story.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Consider the
plot of the first three episodes for starters: the great white hope of the
Hazard family, middle brother, George (James Read), a clear-eyed and noble
businessman, under siege from a jealous elder, Stanley (Jonathan Frakes),
desperate to gain control over this northern dynasty. George is beloved by his
youngest sibling, Billy (John Stockwell in the first miniseries, then
inexplicably recast with Parker Stevenson for the sequel). George befriends Orry
Main during their hellish cadet training at West Point Academy where they make
rather a bad enemy of the marginally psychotic, Elkanah Bent (the deliciously
vial, Philip Casnoff). From this auspicious beginning, the Douglas Heyes’ teleplay,
co-authored with Jakes’ assistance and approval, also to be augmented by Paul
F. Edwards, Patricia Green and Kathleen A. Shelley, ferments a bro-mance between
George and Orry – a friendship strengthened by the many tribulations, life has
in store for each of them. George’s forthright sister, Virgilia (the magnificent,
Kirstie Alley), a staunch abolitionist, takes an immediate and venomous dislike
to Orry and his family. Blindsided by her steadfast dedication to the cause of
ending slavery, Virgilia engages in a disastrous sexual relationship with freed
slave, Garrison Grady (Georg Stanford Brown).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Mains, of
course, are not without their familial skirmishes. Orry has two sisters - the self-absorbed
and self-destructive, Ashton (brilliantly realized by a playfully sinister Terri
Garber), who revels in her perpetual scheming, meant to destroy virtually any
happiness unrelated to her own, and the virginal, Brett (Genie Francis, shades
of Olivia de Havilland’s Melanie Wilkes from <b>Gone with the Wind</b>). Billy
is smitten with Brett and vice versa. To spite the couple, Ashton marries a
prominent Southern prig, James Huntoon (Jim Metzler), then conspires with a venomous
lover, Forbes LaMotte (William Ostrander) to ruin her sister’s happiness. By contrast, George has a relatively
uncomplicated love life, his great and abiding attachment for pure-hearted
Irish lass, Constance Flynn (Wendy Kilbourne), counterbalanced by the even more
complex romantic arc in Orry and Madeline’s perilously flawed love affair.
Having chivalrously rescued Madeline from a runaway carriage, a snake, a truly
vial husband to whom she has been sold in a loveless/possessive marriage, Orry
remains steadfastly dumbstruck by Cupid’s arrow. Madeline shares in the sting
of this love wound.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Along <i>this</i>
road to Tara, our heroes and heroines are made to repeatedly suffer from plague,
natural disasters, a war and varying physical and verbal abuses, backstabbing
and scheming from sibling rivalries. Shifting alliances aside, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and
South</span></b> is an epic and supremely romanticized retelling of the Civil War,
told from a decidedly humanist perspective. Madeline’s father, Nicholas (Lee
Bergere of TV’s <b>Dynasty</b> fame) sets plans into motion, orchestrating an
arranged marriage for his daughter to wealthy plantation owner, Justin LaMotte
(David Carradine) in order to mask Madeline’s checkered past (she is half
Creole). LaMotte, at first, presents himself as a fairly cordial, though
somewhat foreboding figure. Remaining loyal to her father’s wishes, Madeline
denies her love for Orry and weds Justin. She soon regrets this decision as
Justin unleashes the true nature of his character – or lack, thereof – on their
wedding night by raping his wife. Aware
of Madeline’s enduring love for Orry, and after Nicholas’ passing, Justin
increasingly dominates and scrutinizes his wife’s every move, drugging Madeline
with an addictive narcotic to keep her a virtual prisoner in his house, and
later, pushing her devout maid, Maum Sally down a flight of stairs to her
untimely death after she attempts a daring rescue of her mistress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">If all of this
sounds just a tad whetted by overwrought dramatic frivolity – it is. Among its
many attributes, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> is a grandly amusing, if occasionally
over the top prime time soap opera, just the sort of venture television’s grand
master, Aaron Spelling would have admired, if hoop skirts and corsets were
Spelling’s forte. It is a superbly cast ensemble piece that, like a wheel,
contains a good many narrative spokes spinning wildly out of control. The first
miniseries culminates with the penultimate declaration of war between the
states, seemingly to split Orry and George’s fellowship right down the middle.
Created by the ambitious, David L. Wolper, whose previous track record
producing megahit miniseries <b>Roots</b> (1977) and <b>The Thorn Birds</b>
(1983) afforded him considerable clout, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> is a titanic achievement
on many levels, to mask its more basic motivations as an old-fashioned,
slightly tawdry TV bonanza. Bodice-ripping aside, Wolper has taken a page from
Michael Todd’s <b>Around the World in 80 Days</b> playbook, populating this
faux Southern blockbuster with some stellar talent from Hollywood’s golden age:
Robert Mitchum as Constance’s doting father, Patrick; Hal Holbrook (a queerly
unsettling Abraham Lincoln), Gene Kelly (as wily politico, Sen. Charles
Edwards), Elizabeth Taylor (the elegant proprietress of a bordello, Madam
Conti), Robert Guillaume (as social reformer/abolitionist, Frederick Douglass),
Johnny Cash (abolitionist, John Brown) and, Jean Simmons (as Orry’s mother,
Clarissa Main) among others.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is the sort of
lushly prodigal – yet, satisfyingly elephantine - undertaking only possible,
and, made palpable in the 1980’s - a decade known for its excess. The
production treads a very fine line between the fictionalized land of cavaliers
and cotton fields torn from the pages of a literary interpretation of the ‘old
south’, dispensing with, or at the very least, white-washing the more hardcore
history lessons with half-truths and heavily weighted melodrama. Jake's novel
is essentially a saga about two families running a parallel course with
destiny. That makes for a good read. Not
so much a great miniseries. And thus, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> – the miniseries,
cannot help but to embrace that highly intoxicating bent of romanticized gallantry
owing a lot less to the historical, while delving into that wellspring of
moonlight and magnolia that feeds off the mythological tomes best left to the poets
and singers of songs to extol. There is some resplendent scenery here and a lot
of full-blooded passion to keep the casual viewer contented with the genteel
ways of this recreated bygone era that never actually was as it appears here.
And thus, weighing the checks and balances, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> emerges a
winner. Those interested in a history lesson should seek it elsewhere. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our saga begins
in the summer of 1842, as young South Carolinian, Orry Main leaves his familial
estate to attend West Point. Along the road, he meets the beautiful New Orleans
French-Creole, Madeline Fabray whom he vows to write to while away attending to
his studies. In New York, Orry befriends Pennsylvanian heir apparent, George
Hazard, also on his way to West Point. The new incumbents also include George
Pickett (Cody W. Hampton), Ned Fisk (Andy Stahl), George McClellan (Chris
Douridas), Tom ‘Stonewall’ Jackson (Bill Eudaly) and a senior, Ulysses S. Grant
(Mark Moses). The first episode of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> is dedicated to
establishing a fraternity among these men from disparate social backgrounds.
Here, so we are told, are gentlemen of quality united in their singular desire
to be proud soldiers and a credit to the households from whence they hail.
Virtually all are bonded together in their general contempt for the amoral
narcissist, Elkanah Bent, a silver-tongued deviant, his perversity concealed
beneath an exceptionally thin veneer of charm. As the company’s drillmaster,
Bent is single-minded in his passion to break Orry and, to a lesser extent,
George.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two years pass:
George invites Orry to his family’s home during their summer leave. Alas, his
sister, Virgilia, though ravishing and congenial on the surface, is a
headstrong abolitionist who takes immediate umbrage to the Mains as slave
owners. Returning to his own family estate, Mount Royal, Orry is devastated to
discover Madeline’s absence in returning his overtures of love has resulted in
an engagement to Justin LaMotte, a neighboring plantation owner. Later, it is
revealed Nicholas kept Orry’s letters from Madeline to further these interests.
Mount Royal may be home, but it is hardly pleasant. Orry clashes with his
father over the hiring of Salem Jones (Tony Frank), a ruthless overseer who
believes an honest day’s slave labor is gleaned by the crack of the whip. Orry
prevents Jones from bullwhipping Priam (David Harris). But the rift from this
intervention will never entirely heal, and much later, will rupture with
devastating consequences. Our story leaps
ahead to the autumn of 1844. Orry and George, together with their fellow
cadets, arrange for Bent to be caught with a prostitute by his superior, thus
forcing Bent out of West Point. Such humiliation is intolerable. Bent vows
revenge and gets it when, upon graduation, Orry and George are sent to fight in
the Mexican War where Bent has already attained a superior rank, thanks in
large part to his family’s political connections. At the Battle of Churubusco, Bent orders George
and Orry to lead a suicidal charge. Mercifully, both survive the ordeal. But
Orry is permanently crippled in the leg. Meanwhile, George is introduced to
Constance Flynn, daughter of the Army’s surgeon, Patrick. The two fall in love
and make plans to marry.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Deprived of his
great love and now his military career, Orry becomes reclusive, drowning his
sorrows and anxieties in strong drink. George avenges his friend’s downfall by
seeking out and engaging Bent in a battle of fisticuffs he wins, vowing to kill
Bent on sight if ever again he threatens either of them. Back on the home
front, Orry’s father dies. Orry is now the head of the family. Previously,
Madeline had helped Priam to escape Salem Jones to the underground. Now, Orry
does one better by firing his overseer and ordering Salem to vacate the
property before sundown. Madeline and Orry become secret lovers, their
clandestine meetings in an abandoned church eventually found out by
Justin. Meanwhile, George and Constance
are married. Orry’s estranged cousin, Charles (Lewis Smith) is challenged to a
duel of pistols over a dispute involving a woman. Orry helps Charles to survive
this showdown and a bond is solidified between the two men. The Mains are
invited by the Hazards to visit Pennsylvania. There, Ashton pursues George’s
impressionable brother, Billy. Ashton toys
with Billy’s heart without really loving him. Alas, Billy is too blind to see through
Ashton’s subterfuge. Billy and Charles become friends just as George and Orry, eagerly
planning to attend West Point together. But Virgilia has not softened her
contempt for the Mains, particularly after learning George has agreed to begin
a partnership with Orry for a cotton mill in South Carolina on the proviso no
slave labor is employed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reciprocating
the hospitality shown them, the Mains entertain the Hazards in South Carolina
where Billy, at last, is freed from the spell of the vain and wicked Ashton. He
now begins to gravitate toward her sister, Brett, who has always been sweet on
him but far too much the lady to pursue a romance. Virgilia inveigles herself
in a plot to help one of the Main’s slaves, Grady escape. In the meantime,
Nicholas confides to Madeline on his deathbed that her grandmother was black
(shades of another Southern epic, 1957’s <b>Raintree County</b>). Ashton
embarks upon a notorious campaign to bed as many of Billy’s friends as she can.
Alas, she becomes pregnant by one of them. To spare her the humiliation of a
bastard child, Madeline reluctantly agrees to take Ashton to a local midwife
where an abortion is performed in secrecy. But upon her return home, Justin
accuses Madeline of infidelity, severely beating, then locking her in an
upstairs bedroom where he leaves her to starve. Later, Maum Sally attempts to
free her mistress and is murdered by Justin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">By the spring of
1857, Justin has managed to convince a local doctor his wife requires heavy
sedation in order to control her ‘outbursts’. Madeline is plied with an
addictive narcotic, virtually disappearing from all ‘good’ society and
seemingly to have forsaken her love for Orry once again. Ashton marries an
enterprising, but easily swayed politico, James Huntoon, of whom she quickly
grows tired and soon after takes up a lover to satisfy her carnal lusts. In the
meantime, Orry and George’s friendship is put to the test over the issue of
slavery. Recognizing the division between the North and the South is quickly
escalating to a point of no return, Orry refuses to allow Brett to marry Billy.
For once, Brett defies her elder brother, traveling to Fort Sumter where Billy
is stationed. George and Orry mutually agree to bury the hatchet. No ‘cause’ is
worth sacrificing their friendship. Meanwhile, Virgilia secretly weds Grady.
They join abolitionist leader, John Brown who leads an infamous raid on
Harper’s Ferry in Virginia. Regrettably,
the U.S. Army has known about the raid for some time. An ambush ensues. Brown
is taken prisoner and Grady and Priam are killed. Virgilia’s narrow escape causes
her to grow bitterer still. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ashton plots
with Justin and her newest lover, Forbes, to have Billy killed, mostly out of
her enduring jealousy for his happy marriage to Brett. Even in her heavily
sedated state, Madeline is able to deduce their dastardly plan. Making a daring
escape from Justin, accosting him with a sword, Madeline arrives at Mont Royal
on horseback, barely conscious, but with news of Ashton’s plans. Orry is
incensed and ostracizes Ashton from the family. He takes Madeline into his care
and gradually weans her off the drug poisoning her ability to function. Orry
embarks upon his last trip to the north, to the Hazard’s country manor house
near Philadelphia, to give George his half of their cotton mill profits. George
shares some good news with Orry. Constance has given birth to a baby girl they
have decided to call Hope. Returned to the family fold, Virgilia proves as
unfriendly as ever, orchestrating a lynch mob to march on the Hazard estate.
The angry Northerners demand George surrender ‘the rebel traitor’. United in
their loyalty, Orry and George face down the mob together with rifles. But
George is no fool. He realizes it is only a matter of time before they return
in greater numbers to have their demands met. In the dead of night, George
hurries Orry to the train depot, waving goodbye to his best friend from the
platform as the train pulls out of station, with the nation on the brink of
civil war.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Producer, David
L. Wolper’s golden touch in producing hit TV miniseries continued unabated with
<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b>. A whopping 9 ½ hours later, America, and indeed, the
world, were obsessively absorbed in this enveloping saga spread out over the
course of two weeks. To date, its original television broadcast holds the
record as the highest-rated miniseries of all time. Naturally, the public, and
ABC, demanded a sequel. Mercifully, author, John Jakes had written: <i>Love and
War</i>, rechristened ‘<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South Book II</span></b>’ by Wolper. If anything,
the resultant miniseries proved far more intricate and lavish than its
predecessor. In retrospect, ‘<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Book II</span></b>’ is the obvious beneficiary of ABC
and Warner Bros.’s faith in mounting one of the costliest television spectacles
of all time. Most of the original cast returns, the obvious exception being
Parker Stevenson, hired to replace John Stockwell as Billy Hazard. Behind the
scenes, there were other changes. Whereas the original series had been
photographed by Stevan Larner with a sort of gauzy and romanticized texturing
of the old South, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Book II</span></b> goes for an ultra-high gloss treatment a la
cinematographer, Jacques R. Marquette. In hindsight, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>North and South Book II</b>
</span>has a decidedly different ‘feel’ to it, still very much in keeping with the
principles and precepts established in the original series, but somehow
advancing the style, as well as the tempo of the piece to cruder, more
superficially attractive standards. Joseph R. Jennings’ production design exhibits
a grandiosity that Richard Berger’s similarly themed interiors in the original
series could only marginally guess at and/or aspire to recreate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Book II</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>begins with
Orry and Charles, now officers in the Confederate Army. Despite his initial
apprehensions against secession, Orry has since had a change of heart, acting
as a general and military aide to Confederate President Jefferson Davis (Lloyd
Bridges) in Richmond, Virginia. Charles is introduced to Augusta Barclay (Kate
McNeil), a Virginia belle smuggling badly needed medical supplies behind enemy
lines to comfort wounded southern soldiers. Meanwhile, George and Billy have
joined the U.S. Army in Washington, D.C.; Billy as a sharpshooter, and, George,
as military aide to President Abraham Lincoln. Meanwhile, Virgilia pursues her
ambitions to become a nurse, encouraging fellow abolitionist, Congressman Sam
Greene (David Ogden Stiers) to use his clout to help her. Ashton becomes
romantically involved with Elkanah Bent. Alas, even her devious feminine wiles
are no match for Bent’s psychotic hatred of the Mains. He sees Ashton as a
means to exact his revenge on the family, simply as a way to get rich as a
blockade runner. Ashton’s husband, James Huntoon, remains blissfully unaware of
his wife’s adultery. As Mount Royal is relatively undefended in Orry and
Charles’ absence, Justin stages a daring kidnap of Madeline. In the deluge,
Orry's mother, Clarissa is injured while attempting to put out a fire started
by Justin in the barn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The First Battle
of Bull Run favors the South. George and Constance are inadvertently caught in
its chaotic aftermath. Meanwhile, learning of Clarissa’s injuries, Brett elects
to make the perilous trip from Washington to South Carolina with her maid,
Semiramis (Erica Gimpel). Orry receives word of Justin’s treachery and vows to
restore his family’s honor by assailing Justin’s plantation to rescue Madeline.
A duel ensues and Orry kills Justin in self-defense. Shortly thereafter, Orry and Madeline are
wed. Unearthing Bent's operation, Orry plots an ambush, confiscating and
destroying most of Bent’s illegal merchandise.
When word reaches Bent, he is even more committed to destroying Orry. In
George’s absence, his elder brother, Stanley has assumed control of the Hazard
Ironworks. Seeing a loophole to turn the company’s profits into a windfall,
Stanley’s enterprising wife, Isabel Truscott Hazard (Mary Crosby) encourages the
use of a cheaper grade of iron in the manufacturing of their cannons. Alas, this
new iron is unstable, resulting in several cannons exploding on their pads,
killing Northern soldiers, including one of Charles’ good friends. To mask
their complicity in the crime, Isabel convinced Stanley to forge George’s name
on the legal company documents.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the war rages
on, brother is pitted against brother. At Antietam, Charles and Billy are
forced to come to blows. Each allows the other to escape unharmed – thereby
betraying the articles of war, but preserving their friendship. After President
Lincoln signs the Emancipation Proclamation into law, Mount Royal experiences a
mass exodus of its slave labor. A few loyalists remain behind. Having escaped
life on a plantation, Ashton now gloats about its folly and demise, feigning
concern for her mother’s recovery, but later, pulling Madeline aside to inform
her of a salacious family secret: Madeline’s mother was a half-black New
Orleans prostitute. Threatening to reveal this secret to the local gentry and
thus destroy her brother’s public reputation, Ashton agrees to remain silent –
but only if Madeline leaves Mount Royal at once and without any further
explanation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Madeline flees
to Charleston where she is befriended by Rafe Beaudeen (Lee Horsley), a suave
gambler. Endeavoring to benefit the city's destitute and orphaned, Madeline and
Rafe are drawn closer together. Ashton is satisfied in her deceitfulness. Except,
Bent has begun to descend into madness with dreams of assassinating the
Confederate President, Jefferson Davis to become the new ‘dictator’ of the
South. In a moment of weakness, Billy goes AWOL from the army and makes his way
to South Carolina. Determined to ruin her sister’s marriage, Ashton plans to
alert the local authorities of Billy's desertion. He is spared capture when
Brett holds Ashton hostage at the point of a pitchfork, long enough for her
husband to escape. Upon his return to the army, Billy is severely censured by
his commanding officer. He is, however, spared a court-martial and public
execution. After all, the war needs all of its fighting men.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">George is
captured in a raid and taken to the infamous Libby Prison where he is tortured
by the mentally deranged, Captain Thomas Turner (Wayne Newton). At the same
instance, Orry is wounded in battle and placed under Virgilia’s care. Despite
her hatred of Southerners, Virgilia seems to have undergone a miraculous conversion
where Orry is concerned. She nurses him back to health and looks the other way
as he plots a daring escape. Sometime later, Virgilia is erroneously accused by
chief nurse, Mrs. Neal (Olivia de Havilland) of deliberately allowing another
Southern soldier to die under her watch. In a fit of rage, Virgilia violently
pushes Neal, who loses her footing and topples to the floor. Believing she has
killed Neal, Virgilia flees the hospital, pleading with Congressman Greene to
give her food, money and asylum. He promises all three in return for sexual
favors. In the meantime, Charles saves Augusta from certain rape by small band
of Northern soldiers. The two later become lovers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The tide has
turned against the South. Learning of George’s incarceration at Libby, Orry and
Charles plot a daring prison break. Upon his return home, George discovers
Stanley and Isabel’s betrayal and forces the couple to admit their complicity.
In Charleston, Madeline is discovered by Bent who attempts to murder her. Rafe
intervenes, but is shot and killed by Bent for his chivalry. Now Bent, who is
completely mad, enlists James Huntoon in his dastardly plot to overthrow the
Confederate government. Still oblivious to his wife’s flagrante delicto with
Bent, Huntoon nevertheless acts as a double agent, gathering intelligence on Bent’s
coup d'état for Jefferson Davis. The Confederate President orders Orry to
thwart this dire plot and Bent is presumably killed when his ammunition shack
is incinerated in a hellish explosion. Believing her only way to
self-preservation is via a complete confession, Ashton comes clean to Orry and
her husband about her affair with Bent, also about sending Madeline away to
deliberately hurt Orry. Too bad for Ashton, some apologies are not enough. Orry
disowns his sister while Huntoon, finally realizing he will never have his
wife’s loyalty or respect, walks away from their marriage – such as it is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite our
collective knowledge of the war’s outcome, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Book II</span></b>’s last act is
anything but predictable. During the battle at Petersburg, Orry is wounded and
Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrenders. Charles returns to Augusta's farm
to discover she has died giving birth to his child – a son named Gus. At war’s
end, Billy and Brett are reunited and Congressman Greene cruelly ends his affair
with Virgilia whom he now considers a political hot potato, detrimental to his
future aspirations. Alas, the cruelty is two-fold as Greene has been lying to
Virgilia all along. Neal did not die in the fall instigated by Virgilia. Hence,
there was no need for Virgilia to rely on him for her safety and protection. He
has been using her. In a fit of rage, Virgilia stabs Greene to death and is
sentenced to be hanged. George rushes to his sister’s side but is unable to
stave off the execution. The two share a bittersweet farewell and Virgilia is
put to death.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, George goes
in search of Orry, their reunion spoiled by news of Lincoln’s assassination.
With George’s help, Orry and Madeline are reunited. She reveals to him they
have a son. She also confides the truth about her parentage. None of it matters
now. George, Orry, Madeline and their child return to Mont Royal. Regrettably,
Salem Jones, together with Cuffey (Forrest Whitaker) a former slave, lay siege
to the Main plantation just as the family has gathered for their reunion. In
the resultant blaze, Clarissa is killed by Cuffey while trying to prevent him
from raping Semiramis. Charles kills Cuffey and Brett kills Salem, who is about
to shoot Billy. By dawn’s early light, Orry and George pledge to renew their
family’s friendship. George vows to have Mount Royal’s smoldering ruins rebuilt
with profits derived by reopening the cotton mill.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Love and War</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is where it all
should have ended. Indeed, the first and second miniseries are all-inclusive in
their storytelling. And Wolper too felt he had committed every last ounce of
energy and prowess as a storyteller to this sequel, bringing about a sense of
finality to the franchise. Too bad for all concerned author, John Jakes had
written a third novel, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></b>; worse still, ABC and Warner
Bros. dilly-dallied for nearly nine years before resurrecting the franchise on
the small screen. By then, the public fascination had cooled along with the
1980’s obsession for the super-colossus miniseries. Neither the network, nor Warner Bros. was
prepared to invest what they had on the first two miniseries, resulting in a cost-cutting
effort that rendered the final chapter in this saga, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></b>
painfully second-rate and uninspired. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is therefore a
scaled down affair, made on a comparatively miniscule budget and pared down
from 6-two hour episodes to just three. It really is a mess, beginning with its
shifted focus on Elkanah Bent and his enduring hatred for the Mains and the
Hazards who survived the explosion. Bent murders Orry in the first few moments
of the very first episode. Patrick Swayze did not return to the franchise after
1985, necessitating Orry’s death shot in silhouette and shrouded by dense fog -
a flawed beginning from whence the franchise never recovers. We press on to a
contrite Ashton. She tries to murder Bent, but then flees to the West to begin
a new life. Remaining to face a solitary life, Madeline endeavors to rebuild
Mont Royal as her late husband would have wished. After learning of his
friend’s murder, George pledges to help Madeline in any way he can. Meanwhile,
Corporal Charles Main (inexplicably recast with Kyle Chandler), departs for the
West, falling passionately in love with Willa Parker (Rya Kihlstedt). Unable to
establish herself without familial support, Ashton becomes a prostitute in
Santa Fe, endeavoring to earn enough money to acquire the deed to Mont Royal
and thus have Madeline evicted from her family home. Carrying out the next part
of his revenge scenario, Bent sneaks into the Hazard’s Philadelphia mansion and
murders Constance while she sleeps. Like Swayze, Wendy Kilbourne did not
reprise her role as George’s devote Irish Catholic wife, the corpse obviously
played by another actress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">George, desiring
revenge – nee justice – for Constance’s murder, hunts down Bent. We are
introduced to Orry’s elder brother, Cooper (Robert Wagner) a member of the Ku
Klux Klan who undermines Madeline’s work with the local displaced slaves.
Presumably, still suffering the spank of having to admit her part in the cannon
debacle, Isabel schemes behind George’s back to buy Mont Royal merely to evict
the Mains from their ancestral home. If anything, the last two episodes of <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Heaven
and Hell</b> </span>suffer from too much going on and a fragmented narrative, divided
between meandering plotlines in the wide-open spaces of the west and the
ensconced remnants of the decaying South. We toggle back and forth, then back
again, from Charles’ romance with Willa, to Madeline’s struggles to keep Mount
Royal afloat. In between, George pitches in and Charles forms a unit of buffalo
soldiers. The predictability of the ‘love affair’ blossoming between Madeline
and George seems a grotesque betrayal of both George’s bro-manly devotion to
Orry and his once evergreen love for Constance, so indelibly etched in the
first two miniseries.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Exploiting Bent
as the franchise’s psychotic popinjay, as he covers the nation from one end to
the other for his penultimate act of revenge (the kidnapping of Charles and
Augusta’s son, Gus) is a ludicrous scenario that, even in Jakes’ novel, seemed
far-fetched. Forced to condense the timeline and activities of Jakes’ book into
a rush job for the miniseries only exaggerates these imperfections. The final
confrontation, George and Charles vs. Bent (the latter hanged, thus putting a
definite period to his lengthy and tedious avenging angel) is neither
emotionally satisfying nor a fitting end for the character, made somewhat
super-subhuman in his vengeance. Meanwhile, having saved enough money to return
home, Ashton is stricken with grief to discover Mont Royal burned. Cooper is
ordered by his clan leader, Gettys LaMotte (Cliff De Young) to murder Madeline
and George. His refusal ends predictably with a gunshot and a murder – George
kills LaMotte. Willa, Charles and Gus elect to return to the West while George
and Madeline plan for their future together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is <i>not</i>
John Jakes’ finest novel, though it nevertheless remains a somewhat compelling
page-turner for those invested in the <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> book trilogy.
Alas, its small screen incarnation is a woeful bastardization. The compression
of time, excision of beloved characters in a cost-cutting attempt to pare down
the ensemble cast, this time populated by largely forgettable faces, and
finally, its lagging production values (this final chapter directed by Larry
Peerce and photographed with a decided ennui for the visuals by Don E. Faunt
LeRoy), marginalizes <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></b> as a bloated faux marathon of
endurance in which only the audience’s patience is tested. Deprived of the
luxury of time, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></b>’s narrative weaknesses become
exaggerated – ‘a novel for television’ but with missing chapters and
subplots. It doesn’t come off. Those
choosing to invest in the franchise would do best to simply end their viewing
at <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Book II</b> </span>and quietly forget <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Heaven and Hell</span></b> was ever an
afterthought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Recalling today <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North
and South</span></b> as a television event is a little unfathomable as we have since
been spoiled on a proliferation of similarly-minded sagas, the age of television
having morphed from its popularized ‘series’ format into more concentrated mini-movies
with bigger budgets, if fewer episodes. Important, however, to note, that in
the 1980’s the miniseries was, in fact, a major undertaking and definitely ‘must
see’ television. People stayed home to tune in. As, then, there were only 3
major networks dominating the airwaves, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> was both an
event and a gamble, one that paid off handsomely, earning ABC the honor to
televise the highest rated television drama of all time. What can I tell you?
You had to be there, waiting with bated breath as the ABC Movie logo suddenly
appeared in lieu of regularly scheduled programming and maestro, Bill Conti’s
bombastic overture penetrated by the announcer’s cue declaring, <i>‘ABC proudly
presents a novel for television’</i>. This was followed by a montage of clips
excised from the pending episode and then the announcer’s cue again, <i>‘And
now, John Jakes’ immortal saga of life and death, love and war, and, heaven and
hell – <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b></i><b>’</b>; the screen dimming as Conti’s clash
of cymbals marked the opening credits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In these days, a
miniseries like <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> sincerely aimed to challenge the still
ensconced notion that television was the comparative ‘lesser’ to the movies.
The first two miniseries in this franchise are gargantuan spectacles, made when
it was still possible to cull talent from an impressive roster of Hollywood,
old and new. We have since lost that magic, the passing of legends, Robert
Mitchum, Jimmy Stewart, Elizabeth Taylor, etc. et al, leaving Hollywood a far
less fathomable fairyland where dreams still come true. It’s a business now.
Perhaps, it always was. But at least in the old days, the illusion was that it
might also be an art, a craft, and, a fantasy steeped in escapism of the
highest order. It is one of the great
tragedies of our present-age pop culture, that the ‘new Hollywood’ no longer
cultivates talent, but rather considers it only as a necessary evil until the ‘next
best thing’ comes along. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> gave Patrick Swayze a major
uptick in his career aspirations. It also brought James Read to the forefront,
a brief reprieve to a career that stubbornly refused to remain vibrant
thereafter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today, studios
and networks are less likely to really put on a show with such an ostentatious
display of glamor. Partly, it is a sign of the times. The 1980’s blind
optimism, infused by the divining rod that <i>was</i> President Ronald Reagan,
putting an actor in the White House, and thus, to blur the line between
Hollywood’s inimitable brand of escapist fantasy and real-life political drama,
is gone. Miniseries like <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> have no place in modern
programming; derivatives of the formula occasionally finding a home on cable
networks like HBO. But <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b> serves as a reminder of another
epoch when television implicitly understood the strength of sentiment and
patriotism, and Tinsel Town, feared nothing in championing those commodities to
create ‘general programming’, did so on a scale that even current standards are
unlikely to surpass.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Were that I
could champion Warner Home Video’s DVD of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">North and South</span></b>. Firstly,
Warner has opted for the cheap route. We are given flippers instead of
single-sided discs. The rumor that Warner went back to single-sided discs for
subsequent reissues is moot. Because it’s
high time Warner Home Video busied itself on remastering North and South for
Blu-ray. It was, in fact, shot on film – not tape. So, a remastering effort
would definitely best what’s available here. The image on DVD exhibits a
generally pleasing quality. But, it’s also unrefined, with wan colors and a
decided down-tick in fine details. These are really old masters - and they look
it. Age-related artifacts are present. There is also some untoward digital
sharpening applied. This creates disturbing halos in spots. The audio here is
basic Stereo Surround. It should be noted television productions from this
vintage all have a tinny characteristic. It was barely flattering then, and
anything but complimentary now. Ergo, you are not getting this set to give your
bass channels a workout. A very brief
‘retrospective’ is the only extra. Now, to lower the boom. To see
<span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>North and South</b> </span>exist today only in a visual presentation marginally
better than an old analog broadcast is, frankly, insulting. Ditto for Wolper’s
other magnum opus, <b>The Thorn Birds</b>. Enough said. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 - 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">Book I </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">Book II </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">Book III </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">1.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">1</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-2424310088581845242024-01-12T17:04:00.003-05:002024-01-12T17:04:38.836-05:00SHADOWLANDS: Blu-ray (Savoy Pictures, 1993) Universal Home Video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuNy9ztWYinzDg6NLSAexzWFQCjnq5FjbrKUw61dSpJ5P5XR74F15fklNyhtq8VP5-ZAtLRaNYaEoyC-4vfh7hUAEQo_uiOx0qCcOXuRSA8LpeNLVkW54YxxUTf5_PtkplEYULxZ-DxhcKnND4UX0sm9-cxfBi5jhCJFJZHQR-d5OZ7v5VBBUMJy5lss/s1244/SHADOWLANDS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1244" data-original-width="948" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuNy9ztWYinzDg6NLSAexzWFQCjnq5FjbrKUw61dSpJ5P5XR74F15fklNyhtq8VP5-ZAtLRaNYaEoyC-4vfh7hUAEQo_uiOx0qCcOXuRSA8LpeNLVkW54YxxUTf5_PtkplEYULxZ-DxhcKnND4UX0sm9-cxfBi5jhCJFJZHQR-d5OZ7v5VBBUMJy5lss/w447-h586/SHADOWLANDS.jpg" width="447" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">C.S. Lewis was an
extraordinary renaissance man, much of which gets lost in director, Richard
Attenborough’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> (1993), an inadequate attempt to completely
investigate Lewis’ robust and fascinating life. That the screenplay by William
Nicholson, based on his play, succeeds at all in revealing the nature of the
man is neither a minor miracle nor affecting hokum, but rather a skillful
tribute made under the duress of that creative concision all scribes who write for
the movies suffer, to make something plucked from their favorite
tatters in any extraordinary life. In this, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> remains a momentous
achievement. Nicholson knows precisely how to get to the heart of the man
without actually to vivisect all of its functioning parts. The real Lewis, whom we meet only in fitful
sparks of Nicholson’s creative genius, was a Belfast-born agnostic. As a child,
reared in a religious household, he was an avid reader obsessed with anthropomorphic
animals, especially after the death of his beloved dog. Lewis was also captivated
by ancient Norse and Greek legends. As he matured, Lewis experimented with
all manner of authorship, from poetry to opera. His conscription into WWI,
seeing action in Somme Valley, France, left an indelible impression, fostering his
pessimism about humanity's altruism, to also make him very angry with God.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">By 1921, Lewis
had traded Celtic mysticism for Christian theology, his waggish prejudice
towards the English to fire his Irish wit and, rather uniquely, forever to distance him from his adopted nation. Lewis’ masterwork, ‘<i>Mere
Christianity</i>’ was as much a coming to terms with the contradictions of
ecumenical Christianity as it proved another demarcation of his playful disdain
for English arrogance and hypocrisy. As is oft the case with brilliant minds,
Lewis was rather clumsy in matters of love, to remain almost exclusively a
confirmed bachelor. His fascination with Scottish writer, George MacDonald
began to convince Lewis, Christianity was not a wash. His total conversion
to Christianity came about ten years later, almost as an accidental epiphany in which
Lewis would forever view the doctrines of Christ from an un-jaundiced skew, and quite possibly, with the most resilient clarity ever afforded an
agnostic. Choosing to be Anglican, Lewis embraced all factions of religion. Forty at the outbreak of WWII, Lewis
harbored refugee children, gave lectures, spoke on religious BBC broadcasts,
and, became thoroughly entrenched in his faith. Honored to become the first President
of the Oxford Socratic Club in 1942 (a position he held until his resignation
in 1954), Lewis was also afforded the Commander of the Order of the British
Empire by George VI – an honor he respectfully declined so as to remain publicly aloof in his political affiliations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Apologies in advance to
those who find this sort of Cole’s Notes through Lewis’ storied past either a
genuine bore or a renewed debasement of his formidable body of work, not to be
mentioned in more concerted depth herein. But it does help us to see the C.S. Lewis we finally meet in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>,
as miraculously manifested by thespian extraordinaire, Sir Anthony Hopkins in a
more clairvoyant light, more the author than the man, and, navigator of a unique, divine sensitivity that in youth had been the very anathema to his existence. Such an ‘about face’ is decidedly owed the inquisitive
mind. The opportunity to rewrite what was only thought to be known at the outset
of life. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> picks up Lewis’ storied past from here, as he
accepts the position of chair in Mediaeval and Renaissance Literature at
Magdalene College, Cambridge. There, he meets the forthright American
authoress, Joy Davidman Gresham whom, upon her death, Lewis would champion as his
entire world – <i>“My daughter…mother…pupil…teacher…subject… sovereign…trusty
comrade, friend, shipmate, fellow-soldier. My mistress…but at the same time all
that any man friend had ever been to me. Perhaps more.” </i>Upon her divorce
from an alcoholic husband, Joy began to steadily attain her place as Lewis’
all. She came to England with two sons. The movie cuts this down by one – easier
to handle the penultimate bonding between Lewis and the younger, David.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The title, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>
is actually lifted directly from Lewis’ novel, <i>The Last Battle</i> –
depicting a desolate wasteland from whence the characters of his highly popular
children’s series, <b>The Chronicles of Narnia</b> have fled. In <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>’
final, and monumentally heartrending contemplation on safety and suffering, Hopkins’
stoic Lewis asks the question, <i>“Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no
answers anymore. Only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I have been
given the choice…as a boy, and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man –
suffering. The pain now, is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal!”</i> And indeed, this too is the essence of Lewis’
life-long contemplation, profoundly amplified, because of his brief and
wonderful happenstance with the American divorcee, forever to better inform his
understanding and compassion. William
Nicholson’s screenplay, referenced as a three-hankie soap opera with a Rhodes
scholarship, is, in fact, a lyrical tome to Lewis’ late-in-life quixotic
epiphany, shared with plainspoken American poet, Joy Gresham. For concision,
certain aspects of this grand amour are cut short by Gresham’s affliction with
bone cancer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is based on
Nicholson’s1985 television drama, itself, inspired by <i>‘I Call It Joy’</i> –
originally written by Brian Sibley and Norman Stone - also, Nicholson’s later
stagecraft, written in 1989. The movie borrows its title – <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> –
abbreviated from Sibley’s novelized account of the couple: <i>Shadowlands: The
True Story of C.S. Lewis and Joy Davidman</i>. Sumptuously photographed by
Robert Pratt, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> – the movie – is an exquisite drama, expertly
played by Sir Anthony Hopkins, who bears no earthly resemblance to Lewis, yet
still manages to embody the man with masterful strokes of his own acting genius.
The picture co-stars Debra Winger as Joy, and, in hindsight, it remains her last
memorable film role. Playing the no-nonsense Joy seems to have fed into the
actress’ real-life reputation for being ‘difficult’. This Joy brooks no
nonsense. She also does not suffer fools – her unvarnished clarity, a distinct
breath of fresh air in Lewis’ otherwise shuddered – and safe – academia, left
to expound upon his theories behind ivy-covered walls with a small contingent
of his contemporaries, for whom, deconstructing each other’s theses is
something of a blood sport. Winger was Oscar-nominated for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>,
but lost to Holly Hunter for <b>The Piano</b>. Later in life, Winger addressed
the backlash that dogged her after <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>, despite receiving high
praise for her work from none other than Bette Davis in a Barbara Walters’
interview in 1986. <i>“I see a great deal of myself in Debra Winger,”</i> Davis
admitted. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Winger’s
withdrawal from Hollywood shortly after the debut of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b> – then,
marked as a self-imposed hiatus, was first signaled as par for her generous
contempt for Hollywood. But actually, Winger attributed her decision to leave
the picture-making biz on a gnawing insecurity. <i>“I wanted out for years,”</i>
she recalled in 2002, <i>“I got sick of hearing myself say I wanted to quit.
It's like opening an interview with 'I hate interviews!' Well, get out! I
stopped reading scripts and stopped caring. People said, 'We miss you so much.'
But in the last six years, tell me a film that I should have been in. The few I
can think of; the actress was so perfect.” </i>Winger’s part in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>
– although the female lead – is fairly incidental. Instead, the focus here is
on Lewis’ subtle conversion, from esteemed public speaker to inwardly liberated
student of life. <i>“We read to know we are not alone,”</i> one of Lewis’
students, Peter Whistler (James Frain) suggests to his mentoring professor,
quoting from his own, now deceased, father who was also an educator. The
secondary relationship between Whistler and Lewis, begun on an adversarial note
after Lewis finds Whistler sleeping through one of his lectures, steadily
evolves into a mutual and richly satisfying friendship, and, is the ideal
counterpoint to the stuffy semantics Lewis is otherwise obliged to entertain
from his esteemed colleagues. Most condescending of the lot, though with a
queer ‘sporting’ quality, is Christopher Riley (John Wood), who delights at
poking and pluming Lewis’ psyche, perhaps in the hopes of unearthing the truest
wellspring of his genius.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">But the real
C.S. Lewis – who went by the name of ‘Jack’ to his friends, as he detested
‘Clive Staples’, was to remain the enigma of the authentic academic. <i>“I’m
not certain God wants us to be happy,”</i> Lewis astutely assesses, <i>“He
wants us to grow up.”</i> And indeed, much of Lewis’ latter-day authorship was
skewed to a fervent desire to both comprehend and intellectualize the mysteries
of life and God’s place in all of ours, if only to satisfy his own burgeoning
belief in the divine. <i>“Joy,”</i> Lewis speculates, <i>“…is the serious
business of heaven. There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good
when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him. And there are only two
kinds of people: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom
God says, ‘All right, then, have it your way.’” </i>Yet, Lewis was to
acknowledge the impossibility of ever truly attaining enlightenment on earth. <i>“The
terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole
self…all your wishes and precautions - to Christ.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In his lengthy
tenures as an academic of English literature - at Oxford University (Magdalen
College, 1925–1954), then, Cambridge University (Magdalene College, 1954–1963),
Lewis took his vocation as seriously, perhaps even more so, than his
authorship, reasoning that <i>“The task of the modern educator is not to cut
down jungles but to irrigate deserts.”</i> Still, his reputation among young
readers is forever secured with his allegorical novel, ‘<i>The Lion, the Witch
and the Wardrobe’</i> – the first, in a seven-part fantasy series following the
exploits of four English children, relocated to a large country estate during
WWII’s evacuation, and, who come to experience the fantastical land of Narnia,
populated by talking animals and mythical creatures ruled by an evil, White
Witch. The novels are dedicated to Lewis’ goddaughter, Lucy Barfield, but their
far-reaching aptitude to inspire even the young at heart to dream, proved the
real magic elixir in Lewis’ authorship. <i>“Since it is so likely children will
meet with cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and
heroic courage.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> picks up Lewis’
personal story in 1956, after many years of well-ordered complacency. Perhaps,
the spark has gone out of being an educator. Lewis is merely contented to
challenge his students on the machinations of love – unattainable, platonic, or
otherwise. His lectures, on God’s purpose for us all, draw vast crowds in the
ladies’ auxiliary. But his fellow academics find Jack something of a beloved
populist – as it stands to reason, anyone as widely acclaimed cannot be as good
a theologian. Having settled into the
autumn of his years, Lewis and his brother, Major Warnie Lewis (Edward
Hardwicke) live in a pastoral cottage. But their ensconced bachelorhood is
mildly upset after Jack agrees to entertain a chance meeting, respectable – no
less – inside a hotel restaurant, with American poet, Joy Gresham, after she
has written him an admiring correspondence.
Their ‘cute meet’ is fraught with clumsy exchanges. The forthright
Gresham appears to thrive on being confrontational from the moment the bloom
has worn off their cordial handshake. Having received her as mere courtesy,
much to his surprise, and everyone else’s chagrin, Jack finds himself strangely
intrigued by Joy, and invites her and her young son, Douglas (played with
remarkable sincerity by Joseph Mazzello) to stay with him over the Christmas holiday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jack soon learns
Joy is estranged from her husband. Douglas is a sad, sensitive child, who is
taking his parent’s separation hard. Alas, the boy becomes more than a little
disillusioned when, upon discovering a wardrobe in Lewis’ upstairs attic, he
cannot seem to locate the secret, magical porthole to Narnia lurking, as
described by Lewis in his books, just beyond it. As Douglas is a huge fan of
Lewis’ novel, <i>The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe</i>, he feels sincerely
cheated. After Christmas, Joy and Douglas return to America and Lewis quietly
continues his lecture circuit. However, he is somehow changed for having known
Joy, and, in the intervening months, is surprised at just how much he misses
her. Happily, Joy resurfaces as a face in the crowd, attending one of his
speeches. Joy confides she has taken up temporary residency in London with
Douglas, as her husband, having announced his affair with another woman, has
since divorced her and moved on. As Joy is unable to remain in England
permanently, she proposes a marriage of convenience. Lewis agrees to wed in
name only at a Justice of the Peace. However, as time passes, Lewis comes to
regret this decision, fearing he has betrayed the sanctity of marriage. At this
juncture, Joy falls ill. An x-ray reveals she has advanced stages of bone
cancer in her femur. Enduring painful
radiation treatments, while Joy convalesces in hospital, Lewis and Warnie move
her things into their home, with Lewis, caring for Douglas, who resents the
disease afflicting his mother.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">During this
trying time, Lewis is resolved to pray most fervently to God to spare Joy’s
life. His prayers appear to have been answered when Joy does make an astounding
recovery. Moving into Lewis’ home to continue her recuperation, Joy spies a
sketch of ‘the Golden Valley’ hanging on the wall in her husband’s study. Asked
if the location is real, Lewis says he believes that it is, and, as Joy regains
her strength, she encourages Lewis to take her there for their honeymoon. The
real Joy and Jack vacationed in Greece. In Attenborough’s movie, however, the
couple make their pilgrimage to the west country, staying at a quaint country
inn. Their motorcar journey takes them to the exact spot depicted in the sketch. They make their way down the hillside into a
lush valley. An impromptu thunder shower forces the couple to take refuge
inside a nearby barn. Only now, Lewis confides he has never been happier. If
only he did not fear God to learn of his pleasure and deny him of it
prematurely. Indeed, upon returning home from their respite, Joy and Lewis are
left to enjoy barely a month before her cancer returns. This time, the news is
devastating. As Joy’s condition worsens, Lewis asks to wed her again –
legitimately, with a Vicar and her son present as a witness. From her hospital
room, a second wedding is conducted. Joy is sent home. Jack relocates her bed
to the downstairs study where he remains vigilant at her side day and night.
Joy asks her husband to look after Douglas once she is gone. In the morning,
Lewis awakens with a startle to discover Joy has died during the night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">After the
funeral, Lewis distances himself from Douglas – each, dealing with their loss
in silent desperation. Warnie encourages Lewis to talk to the boy but to no
avail. Lewis is also reunited with Peter Whitaker, one of his pupils, whom he
once admonished for napping in his class. Later, unbeknownst to Whitaker, Lewis
spies him in a book seller’s shop, pilfering a novel without being caught.
Making a trip to his dormitory, Lewis asked if there was anything he might do
to help. But Whitaker, bitter and suffering from the angst of losing his own
father, then refused Lewis’ charity. Now, at the end of his journey with Joy,
Lewis meets Whitaker on a train, learning that in the year since passed,
Whitaker has become a teacher just like his father, and, with all bitterness
removed from his heart, fancies he has found, not only his vocation in life,
but also a genuine reason to hold to the promise for the future. Buoyed by this
last encounter, and prodded by Warnie, Lewis finds Douglas alone in the attic
and makes a valiant attempt to reach out to him. In this penultimate
revelation, the boy and the man are reunited in their contemplative grief,
each, sobbing uncontrollably as they embrace in a cathartic release. In the
final moments of our story, Lewis and Douglas stroll together to the hillside
just beyond their home. In a voice-over, Lewis recognizes the pleasure he once
knew with Joy is now counterbalanced by the pain he must endure in her absence.
This is the bargain he made with God. This is life. This is the truth of being
human and imperfect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span> </span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">is monumentally
satisfying. Superficially, it is a wistful tear-jerker that strikes directly at
the heart. And yet, it manages, with an even more elusive tenacity, to
unshackle the human spirit from its demystifying illusions about life and love.
Few works of art have had such a profoundness of clarity. Hopkins and Winger
strike an indelible chord as the unlikeliest of couples. As in life, on
celluloid there was nothing about this chance encounter that ought to have made
for a relationship. And yet, it did. George Fenton’s score captures the
ephemeral and blossoming quality of love, while elevating its tragedy beyond the
maudlin eloquence usually ascribed romantic movies. Roger Pratt’s
cinematography is a visual feast – the interiors, lensed with a gauzy warmth,
lit mostly by candlelit and/or roaring hearths. The exteriors are like sketches,
done in an earthier and rustic pastoral lushness, typified by sun-filtered
afternoons, damp/warm impromptu rain showers, and, the enveloping silver
denseness of an early morning fog. Nicholson’s screenplay avoids the usual
clichés in a burgeoning romance. Instead, the audience is as caught off guard
as Lewis. This is not a tale about a woman out to land herself a husband, or a
man who ‘like <b>My Fair Lady</b>’s Henry Higgins, grows accustomed to a face he
can no longer imagine his own life. Rather, what emerges is a tender character
study whose tropes are dissolved in performance as in life to reveal the truest
nature of experienced/then denied romantic longing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Forced into
precisely such an absence by fate, Lewis must reinterpret the purpose of his
own pain and suffering. Is this truly God’s way of perfecting the soul, by
carving out the wrong parts to prepare for its heavenly ascent? <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>
is finely wrought and handsomely crafted. It dares to punctuate a point rarely
expressed in popular entertainments; that the purest form of love is oft denied
physical desire. Winger’s fragile and fast fading flower endures this delicate
strain of adjustment, steeped in her avid certainty that the uppermost pastime
is to enrich the life of another in unanticipated ways. Convincing Lewis of as
much is Joy’s greatest conquest. Arguably, it remains her lasting victory
against the darkness, though arguably, one very few people can claim to
intimately understand. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span> </b>is a picture that arguably, the real
C.S. Lewis would have embraced. The author of more than thirty books, many
greatly affected by his reinforced Christian beliefs, had gained widespread
popularity throughout the war years. With Joy’s death in 1960, the cares of the
world weighed more heavily. A scant 3 years later, Lewis would also pass away
from renal failure, one week shy of his 65th birthday. In the years since his
time, his literary masterworks have only continued to ripen with age; timeless
in their deep and brooding philosophical genius, as genuine and germane to the
world at large as ever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> received a
bare-bones mastering from Universal Home Video in 2017. Alas, the results, as
with everything Uni puts out, are a mixed bag. For starters, there is a lot of
edge enhancement baked into the main titles, and, in a few scenes immediately
following thereafter. The image is unstable, with haloing and minor gate weave.
Colors are punchy, though perhaps, too much – flesh tones always intensely pink
or ruddy brown/orange. Film grain looks indigenous to its source, but
age-related artifacts still crop up from time to time. This is a middling
effort at best and soooooo disappointing Uni has yet to get on board with the
idea lovers of physical media deserve better – the best, in fact, any studio
can offer. What we have here is a digitally scrubbed presentation, rarely to
attain the actual look of 35mm film stock. The audio is 2.0 DTS and adequate
for this primarily dialogue-driven movie. There are NO extras, and, even more
idiotically, NO chapter stops. The movie, once inserted, plays immediately and
to the end, then - begins from the beginning. Bottom line: while the Blu of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Shadowlands</span></b>
is far from perfect, the entertainment value to be gleaned from the experience
of seeing it again is so affecting and rare, I highly recommend this disc for
content.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">0</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-76823986240571888772024-01-12T09:43:00.007-05:002024-01-12T09:43:38.110-05:00WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING: Blu-ray (Hollywood/Caravan Pictures, 1995) Buena Vista Home Entertainment<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkTVmbHVCnTI20jFOFKJu4dH8LtWbywM89fM2Z2qh-H-un2GQ3Isojre20mfqlgHKjcejTiDYZrDHjvGZWUEl47-S1Gz4NERZQinYiVjU9ye3EZul9qZK_o-A-IU9iiYLvvu_Q2o0F4N3rcOJK9plS2JfGomICljpfOBo_mpQcijp6boO5_LOiYXGeS4/s1515/WYWS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1515" data-original-width="1154" height="583" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkTVmbHVCnTI20jFOFKJu4dH8LtWbywM89fM2Z2qh-H-un2GQ3Isojre20mfqlgHKjcejTiDYZrDHjvGZWUEl47-S1Gz4NERZQinYiVjU9ye3EZul9qZK_o-A-IU9iiYLvvu_Q2o0F4N3rcOJK9plS2JfGomICljpfOBo_mpQcijp6boO5_LOiYXGeS4/w445-h583/WYWS.jpg" width="445" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Charles Perrault
did the world of literature an immense favor when he penned Cinderella…and
Hollywood film makers have been paying homage to his quill ever since. The
romantic comedy is essentially the Cinderella story rehashed ad nauseam,
resurrecting the myth that a girl of any man’s dreams, need not be highborn to
still be considered a woman of quality. Nice work if you can get it. And made indelibly
charming with a twist in director, John Turteltoub’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b>
(1995). We trade in pastoral Paris for Chicago’s steel and concrete jungle. Our
winsome waif is now reconstituted as a transit subway token-collecting
daydreamer who aspires to marry the prince of her choosing, only to discover
another more amiable prospect waiting in the wings. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b>
is an exemplar of how, with just a bit of reimagining, the time-honored (and
oft regurgitated) cliché of ‘true love’ can continue to warm our hearts. Part,
if not all, of the movie’s appeal is in Sandra Bullock, unafraid to be made
dowdy, her laryngitis-voiced Lucy Eleanor Moderatz perfectly conveying the
sweet sorrow of being pitifully alone at Christmas. Daniel G. Sullivan and
Fredric LeBow’s screenplay makes the most of Bullock’s strengths. Her
particular yen remains in unearthing the subtler comedy, even from the most
perfunctory situations - as when Lucy and her unanticipated knight in shining
armor, Jack Callaghan (Bill Pullman) fight to remain vertical on a perilous
patch of sidewalk ice, only to wind up horizontal and scrambling over one another
until, inevitably, playfulness turns more awkwardly romantic. It isn’t that we
haven’t seen all of this before. We have. But director, Turteltoub makes it all
disarming and fresh. Besides, Bullock and Pullman are very engaging as the perfectly-mated
misfits. In hindsight, it remains a genuine pity they never appeared together
again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were
Sleeping</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is incredibly well cast. Jack Warden is the crusty, if benign,
godfather, Saul. Glynis Johns takes the perpetually befuddled grandma, Elsie
into a few joyful respites. Elsie doesn’t drink anymore…although, she doesn’t
drink ‘any less’ either. Peter Boyle and Micole Mercurio are delightful as the
semi-intrusive parents, Ox and Midge. Monica Keena, as their curious younger
daughter, Mary, and, Michael Rispoli, as the laughably obtuse wannabe lady’s
man, Joe Fusco Jr. are treats to behold. Even Peter Gallagher (a.k.a Peter
Callaghan), who spends the bulk of our tale in a coma, makes an indelible
impression as the one-time romantic ideal onto whom Lucy projects the noblest
of qualities. The screenplay ingeniously gets to the real mettle of the man in
smaller increments. Peter: who only has one testicle, thanks to an unfortunate
accident with a pencil while playing basketball (yeow!), whose numerous
meaningless affairs with women have led him into the arms of Ashley Bartlett
Bacon (Ally Walker) - a petulant harpy whose breast augmentation he paid, but
is already, and still married to someone else. Peter, who, in his youth
pretended to rescue a pair of baby squirrels from their fallen nest, but
actually was responsible, first, for knocking them out of their home with a
rock. These are not the character traits by which any prince is made or
measured. Peter is, in fact, exactly what Saul lovingly calls him: <i>“a putz”,
</i>privileged, and blessed with affluence, good looks and the deceptive charm
of slick suaveness that his down-to-earth brother, Jack lacks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It does not take
long for Lucy to figure out her ideal man has fallen either beyond or below her
expectations. Jack is more her speed and to her liking. Any future happiness she might have with the
Callaghan clan rests with a clean slate of honesty, beginning with Lucy’s true
confessions. <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>While You Were Sleeping</b> </span>is fairly uncomplicated about the
outcome of its story. There is never any doubt Lucy will find happiness. And
yet, we cannot help but admire the strides and roadblocks taken in this
journey, deliberately orchestrated, first to detour, then link all points
between ‘A’ and ‘B’ with the whole alphabet of arbitrary machinations
intervening in-between. Phedon Papamichael’s luminous cinematography captures
the frigidness of wintertime in the ‘windy city’. But it also manages to find
the warmth and afterglow in Chicago’s holiday lights. This proves a perfect
complement to Randy Edelman’s gently meaningful underscore, interpolated with pop
tunes to set the mood. Edelman’s score is the musical bridge for our heroine’s
daydreams, both her triumphs and disappointments. Music in the movies often
gets overlooked as incidental. But Edelman’s cues shine a light of insight into
Lucy’s inner doubts, sadness and aspirations in her convoluted odyssey to find
true love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were
Sleeping</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> is rarely shown on TV, occasionally resurfacing around the holidays.
But its story could just as easily have been set during the 4th of July,
Columbus Day or any other benign spot on the calendar. Christmas is incidental
to the story. Ironically, this makes <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b> the perfect
Christmas movie. Immediately following an ebullient TripTik through Chicago’s
downtown core, we regress to an idyllic retrospective of Lucy’s childhood. Lucy
(played by Megan Schaiper as a child) recalls how her father’s kindly rearing
after her mother’s death ‘gave her the world’… at least, its possibilities,
generating that spark from within to pursue her dreams. Flash forward to the
present. Lucy is a transit authority tollbooth operator. This disconnect between
childhood optimism and the slap-in-the-face realities of adulthood is
applicable to anyone with a pulse. Rarely does life gives us what we think we
need to be happy. It does, however, almost always provide for the essentials
necessary to survive its disappointments. Certain she will never fall in love,
Lucy’s heart is drawn to one particular patron who frequents her terminal - the
immaculately attired businessman, Peter Callaghan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Socially, Lucy
and Peter are complete opposites and worlds apart. He hails from the Harry
Rosen set. She buys her jeans at Wal-Mart. Then, the unthinkable happens. Peter
is the target of a botched robbery on the elevated platform while waiting for
the next train. He is pushed onto the tracks and knocked unconscious. Lucy
rescues him from the oncoming express by rolling him to safety. Lucy is a
hero…well…sort of. For here the comedy of errors begins with one colossal bit
of misdirection. One of the nurses (Margaret Travolta) mistakes Lucy for
Peter’s fiancée, an easily correctable miscalculation. Instead, Lucy feels
compelled to perpetuate this lie, or rather, is unable to become disentangled
from its fallout after Peter quietly slips into a coma. Lucy is introduced to
Peter’s dotty family: mom - Midge, dad - Ox, grandma - Elsie, younger sister -
Mary and eldest brother, Jack. From Dalton Clarke (James Krag), one of the
colleagues in Peter’s law firm, Lucy learns Peter is missing a testicle. This
bit of highly personal history will come in handy later on when Jack, doubting
Lucy’s credibility, demands she provide the family with evidence only someone
intimate with Peter would know. Since the Callaghans spent Christmas Day at the
hospital, Ox invites Lucy for a post-Christmas dinner at the family’s home. She
is reluctant at first, but accepts the invitation and is surprised when the
Callaghans welcome her unquestioningly with open arms. They even find the time
to buy her a gift. In the meantime, Lucy’s kindly apartment landlord, Joe Fusco
(Mike Bacarella) tries to finagle a romance between her and his newly paroled
son, Joe Jr. – a loveable bum. Harmless and inept, Joe Jr. also has a fetish
for women’s shoes. Like all the gags written into the Sullivan/Lebow
screenplay, this one will pay off handsomely later on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Unable to sleep,
Lucy travels at midnight to attend Peter in his hospital room. Unaware Saul is
nearby, Lucy quietly confesses her incredible loneliness to Peter, agreeing to
play along with the Callaghans’ misconception she is his fiancée. <i>“Do you
believe in love at first sight?”</i> Lucy quietly whispers to Peter as Saul
looks on, <i>“Nah, I bet you don't. You're probably too sensible for that. Or
have you ever, like, seen somebody? And you knew that, if only that person
really knew you, they would, well, they would of course dump the perfect model
that they were with, and realize that YOU were the one that they wanted to,
just, grow old with. Have you ever fallen in love with someone you haven't even
talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the night confusing a man in a
coma?” </i>Saul allows Lucy to go only so far, informing her, he is aware of
the truth, but also promising to remain silent because she has rejuvenated the
family’s faith in Peter’s recovery. Nevertheless, Saul also makes it clear he
will do everything in his power to prevent the family from being hurt by anyone
whose motives are not altruistic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Actually, Saul
is a little in awe of Lucy and quite willing to allow her to partake of the
Callaghan’s good graces and glad tidings. But things reach an unlikely head
when Lucy begins to fall in love for Peter’s brother - Jack and vice versa.
Jack’s amorousness is momentarily sideswiped by Joe Jr., who lies about Lucy
being ‘his girl’ for quite some time. Derailed in his romantic pursuits, Jack
becomes bitter. <i>“Hey,”</i> he tells Lucy, <i>“What do you know about my
family? Spending a week with them does not make you an expert!”</i> to which
Lucy astutely surmises, <i>“…and spending a lifetime with them hasn't made you
one, either!”</i> This is an open wound for Jack, who has yet to reveal to Ox
he wants out of the family-owned estate furniture business to pursue his passion
as a furniture maker. Eventually, Jack sets aside his prejudices and pursues
Lucy on his terms. She cannot deny her feelings for Jack, but is very much
afraid to solidify them with a proposal of marriage, especially after Peter
begins to stir from his coma. Unable to recognize Lucy at a glance, the family
assumes Peter is suffering from temporary amnesia. Peter is driven to question
his own sanity by reciting specifics about his childhood from memory. In the
meantime, Ashley has telephoned Peter’s penthouse, leaving a message on his
answering machine to say she has decided to accept his proposal of marriage.
Saul promises Lucy he will handle the situation on her behalf. Alas, Saul’s way
of managing things is to goad Peter into proposing to Lucy and for their
wedding to take place in the hospital’s chapel post haste. Lucy reluctantly
accepts Peter’s impromptu proposal. But the wedding gets crashed by Ashley and
her husband (Shea Farrell). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Amidst the
hullaballoo, Lucy confesses to the Callaghans she fell in love with Peter but
in her desperation for happiness, she lied to them because, for the first time
in a really long while, she sincerely felt as though she were part of a real
family – a feeling she has not had in a very long time. Although she treasures
the Callaghans as though they were her family, she now realizes she loves and
respects them too much to remain untrue. This bittersweet realization convinces
Jack to propose to Lucy the next day with the family’s blessing. Jack arrives
at Lucy’s tollbooth with an engagement ring he casually places in the slot
where the subway tokens usually go, causing the forlorn Lucy to suddenly look
up and realize the entire Callaghan clan has come to share in this moment. Lucy
and Jack are wed. We learn in the film’s epilogue - as the express pulls from
its depot with Lucy, in her wedding dress, and Jack in her embrace that he gave
her a trip to Florence, Italy for their honeymoon – the one place Lucy has
always dreamed of going.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were
Sleeping</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>is a delightful romantic comedy with a screwball edge that treats its
adults, ultimately – and most refreshingly – as adults. This, in and of itself,
makes the film a rarity. And Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman have chemistry
plus, unseen since Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan teamed up for Rob Reiner’s <b>When
Harry Met Sally</b> (1989). While ‘<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b>’ may not be
as sophisticated as this aforementioned comedy gem, it nevertheless resolves to
tell a bittersweet and ultimately satisfying story about two people dreadfully
alone in the big city, yearning for the same things in life and ultimately
having those prayers answered in the end. Bullock’s fairy tale princess is an
‘every woman’ with a true heart of gold, someone we can root for with more than
a modicum of hopefulness, justly deserving and satisfied by the proverbial
‘happy ending’. Clichés aside, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>While You Were Sleeping</b> </span>keeps its story
fresh, its characters fetching and its comedy bouncing along at a merry hum. John
Turteltoub understands the intricacies of comedic timing, allowing each scene
just enough breadth to warm our hearts with its exquisitely concocted fluff,
topped off in healthy dollops of good ole-fashioned schmaltz. It is a hardened
cynic who can turn a blind eye to such joyous silliness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s been nearly
eight years since Buena Vista Home Video announced the North American release
of <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>While You Were Sleeping</b> </span>on Blu-ray – a prophesy likely to remain
unfulfilled, given Disney Inc.’s present lack of interest in any of their Touchstone/Caravan/Hollywood
Pictures catalog. Mercifully, in the interim, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b>
made its debut in the U.K. and Australia. Various sites advertise this disc as
Region ‘B’ locked. But it’s actually Region ‘A-B-C’ friendly and will therefore
play anywhere in the world. But let us not get so excited about this just yet,
as the results are not altogether as satisfying as one might hope. <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You
Were Sleeping</span></b> on Blu-ray is a definite upgrade from the old DVD. Overall
richer colors, more accurately rendered flesh tones and a tighter image. These
are definite pluses. Alas, film grain is problematic, at times taking on a
digitized appearance – gritty, rather than grainy – and hinting of
pixelization. These imperfections are more obvious on larger monitors and –
particularly – in projection. Also,
there appears to be a strange lack of fine detail during darker scenes. Contrast
also is somewhat weaker than anticipated. Again, the movie does not look awful.
Alas, it is hardly up to contemporary hi-def standards. The big upgrade here is
the 5.1 DTS audio, easily blowing the old Dolby Digital DVD out of the water.
Bass is solid and dialogue and effects are exceptionally integrated. Very
nicely done!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Disney Inc.
continues to market ‘theatrical trailers’ as ‘special features’. Let’s just
agree at this late stage that they’re not!
But it’s all we get on this disc – bare bones and typical of Disney’s
efforts. Honestly, isn’t it about time we were given the rest of their
Touchstone, Caravan, Hollywood Pictures output in hi-def? Titles like, <b>I
Love Trouble, Pretty Woman</b>: director’s cut, <b>Outrageous Fortune, Jane
Austen’s Emma</b> among them?!? My most fervent (dream) hope would be for a
‘third party’ distributor to iron out the details in bringing at least some of
the aforementioned titles to Blu. But this is likely a pipe dream, given Disney’s
territorial natural. No one does Disney - except Disney. Bottom line: if you
are a fan of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">While You Were Sleeping</span></b> you will want to snatch this disc
up through Amazon.u.k. It definitely improves on the old DVD. Do not expect
perfection and you will be alright…if marginally disappointed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">3</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">0</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-10475881416459602322024-01-11T16:28:00.000-05:002024-01-11T16:28:29.494-05:00FACE/OFF: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, 1997) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAc8XE_J0wMp5nZH4OnI1ECHsrQ9zFFDInncM9823X3UvfArfErfHoH-zTESM4BPFmXiq4wN83sYaEBzUHtujzBb3MSh_5R514b8RvTuZc3fQUYp1Ae1vh5RFodTwqv73RpC0unvcZ3P5XTBkwgd6_Y5ycF_PNNNnrRmuDokpDRbA8meyn6v9-rOwnQyo/s1558/FACE%20OFF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1558" data-original-width="1196" height="547" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAc8XE_J0wMp5nZH4OnI1ECHsrQ9zFFDInncM9823X3UvfArfErfHoH-zTESM4BPFmXiq4wN83sYaEBzUHtujzBb3MSh_5R514b8RvTuZc3fQUYp1Ae1vh5RFodTwqv73RpC0unvcZ3P5XTBkwgd6_Y5ycF_PNNNnrRmuDokpDRbA8meyn6v9-rOwnQyo/w421-h547/FACE%20OFF.jpg" width="421" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
pseudo-intellectual sparring between a raging career criminal, played with
venomous aplomb by Nicholas Cage, and hardened FBI agent, reinvented by John
Travolta, culminates in one of the best actioners of the late nineties. Yes
folks, director, John Woo’s <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> (1997)…of thee, I sing, with some
high praises. The tale concocted by writers, Mike Werb and Michael Colleary is
a dilly, forcing the hunter to adopt not only the pose, but also the face of
the hunted to infiltrate and foil a colossally over-the-top terrorist organization.
In an era of top-flight action movies, certainly, nothing like <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b>
</span>had ever been attempted. Nor have we seen its like again since. The genius here
is that, somehow, even against all odds of accepted suspension of disbelief,
the picture delivers on its totally improbable scenario. At the time of its
theatrical release, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b> </span>represented a renaissance for its costars;
Travolta, having crawled out from under some bad press and even worse, post-<b>Saturday
Night Fever</b> (1977)/<b>Grease </b>(1978) movies to attain a cult following
in Quentin Tarantino’s <b>Pulp Fiction</b> (1994), and Cage, after spending much
of the 1980’s in career limbo, hitting it hard as an action star of the first
magnitude in a triumvirate of doozies, of which <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b> </span>would mark the
third and final ‘best of’ – previously fronted by <b>The Rock</b> (1996), and <b>Con-Air</b>
(also 1997). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt 130.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Both actors here
are going for broke. Travolta’s pit bull of a law man, Sean Archer, driven to
near remorseless insanity after the murder of his only son at the hands of Cage’s
Castor Troy, is swimming on the edge of some hardcore recklessness. In a world
where nothing matters, Archer is precisely the antidote to Cage’s undeniably crazy,
yet queerly engaging psychopath, employing an arsenal of deadly toys to mark
his territory. Woo’s reluctance to direct <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b> </span>is worth noting. His
tenure as a director in Hong Kong dates back to the early seventies, but would suffer
intermittent occupational burnouts before rising like a phoenix from the ashes
with <b>A Better Tomorrow</b> (1986) – a financial colossus, fortified by Woo’s
unique blend of high-stakes drama, slow-mo’ gunplay, and, urban atmospherics.
Woo’s American debut, <b>Hard Target</b> (1993) ran afoul of Universal Studio’s
desire to produce <i>a ‘suitable for American audiences’</i> actioner as it
debased the director’s original intent.
It would be three years before Woo would direct again states’ side. But
the result was <b>Broken Arrow</b> (1996) – a picture coming closer, if not entirely
to fulfil Woo’s expectations. Alas, it too showed only a modest profit. Fearing
studio interference on <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b>, Woo rejected it several times until
Paramount Pictures made certain assurances Woo would be allowed to pursue the project
according to his own likes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span>begins in
earnest with the brutal slaying of Archer’s young son, Michael (Myles Jeffrey).
The death leaves FBI Special Agent, Sean Archer emotionally scarred, yet
doggedly committed to bringing Castor Troy to justice. Time passes. Six years,
to be exact. But time has not mellowed Archer’s resolve to destroy Troy. If
anything, Archer has transformed his obsessive crusade into a personal vendetta,
culminating in an ambush of Troy and his younger brother, Pollux (Alessandro
Nivola) at a remote desert airstrip. Troy provokes Archer with veiled
references to a bomb set to detonate somewhere in L.A. Alas, before Archer can
glean anymore information, Troy slips into a coma. Unable to make Pollux talk, Archer
does the unthinkable. He orders Dr. Malcolm Walsh (Colm Feore) to perform a
dangerous face transplant to ‘become Castor Troy. As Troy, Archer enters the
maximum-security prison and manages to convince Pollux he has somehow survived.
Alas, the real Troy unexpectedly stirs,
forcing Walsh to transplant Archer's face onto him. Troy then murders everyone
who know about the switch. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">On the cusp of
learning of the bomb’s whereabouts, Archer-as-Troy is confronted by his arch
nemesis, now impersonating him. Troy-as-Archer vows to assume Archer’s life on
the outside, and destroy it with sinister relish before forcing another
transplant to get back his own face. Confused, Pollux informs Troy-as-Archer of
the bomb’s whereabouts and is freed. Now, Troy-as-Archer decides to get closer
to Archer's wife, Eve (Joan Allen) and, their daughter, Jamie (Dominique Swain).
In prison, Archer-as-Troy stages a daring riot and escapes. As he appears now, ever
more the villain, Archer-as-Troy retreats to Troy’s headquarters where he finds
Troy’s sister, Sasha (Gina Gershon) and her son, Adam (David McCurley). Haunted
by remembrances of his own child, Archer-as-Troy learns Adam is, in fact, Troy’s
son. Now, in a race against time, Troy-as-Archer launches a full-scale manhunt
for Archer-as-Troy. Alas, the raid turns deadly. In the hailstorm of bullets, several
of Troy’s gang, some FBI agents, and, Pollux are mowed down. Archer-as-Troy manages
to save Sasha and Adam. Archer's superior, Director Victor Lazarro (Harve Presnell),
blames Troy-as-Archer for the bloodbath. In retaliation, Troy-as-Archer murders
Lazarro, but makes it appear as a heart attack. And thus, Troy-as-Archer gets
promoted as acting director. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, Archer-as-Troy
approaches Eve. She is, understandably shaken until her husband gets her to
perform a blood test, proving to Eve the naturally appearing Troy is actually
Archer in disguise. Now, believing Archer-as-Troy, Eve suggests the optimal
opportunity to recapture Troy-as-Archer will be at Lazarro's funeral.
Unfortunately, Troy-as-Archer has anticipated this move and takes Eve as his
hostage. Sasha rescues Eve from certain death but takes a fatal bullet for her
efforts. As she dies, Archer-as-Troy vows to look after her son. Troy-as-Archer
flees to a nearby church, taking Jamie hostage. Mercifully, she stabs her
captor with the butterfly knife Troy-as-Archer provided earlier for her
self-defense. A wounded Troy-as-Archer commandeers a speedboat, forcing
Archer-as-Troy to steal another and engage in a head-on collision. Now,
fighting mano a mano, Troy-as-Archer tries to mutilate Archer’s face. Instead, Archer-as-Troy
impales his nemesis on a spear gun. After another successful face transplant,
Archer returns to Eve, adopting Adam to keep his promise to Sasha.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite its
highly improbable plot, the ultimate in kabuki, and, an even more unmanageable runtime
of 140-mins. (usually, the kiss of death for box office success, as it hinders
scheduling during peak audience attendance timeslots) <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b> </span>became a
sizable hit for Paramount, earning $245 million at the box office worldwide. The
picture was also Oscar-nominated for Mark Stoeckinger’s SFX Sound Editing. In
hindsight, it is interesting to consider what <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> might have been
had it come about under different creative auspices. As early as 1991, the
project was bounced around Hollywood, briefly optioned by Joel Silver at Warner
Bros. When this failed to gel, the option was allowed to lapse, whereupon
Paramount snatched up the rights to produce it instead. The initial idea was to
pit Sylvester Stallone against Arnold Schwarzenegger. Indeed, both were muscle-bound
titans at the movies. But when this fizzled, producers set their sights on
Michael Douglas vs. Harrison Ford; then, Alec Baldwin against Bruce Willis. For
a brief wrinkle, Johnny Depp pursued the role of Sean Archer. Woo, however, had
Travolta and Cage in mind. And Douglas, not particularly bitter at having lost
out to star, assumed the role of executive producer instead. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Viewed today, it
is difficult not to consider <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> as John Woo’s American
masterpiece. In spirit, tone and overall attention to hand-crafted, nail-biting
action set pieces, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> comes closest to the inimitable high
standards Woo set during his tenure in Hong Kong. It is a very grand, explosively
eviscerating, and ultimately heart-palpating brilliant actioner in the American
pantheon. Curiously, some of Woo’s potency still gets blunted in the transference
from ‘East’ meets ‘West’. Hollywood’s
need for a ‘happily ever after’ blunts the darkness, drenching its surviving cast
in a necessary ‘feel good’. Even so, this feels slightly disingenuous against
all the chaos gone before it. In hindsight, Nicholas Cage is most in tune with
Woo’s apocalyptic verve. And Cage goes for the brass ring here, attaining a
level of brute insanity, pretty hard to dismiss and/or top. Cage’s Troy is evil
incarnate, crazy to a fault, perversely manipulative, wickedly bizarre, yet
strangely compelling – even likeable, in spots – in all his grotesque moral
depravity. Comparatively, John Travolta stifles, seemingly out of his depth or
uncomfortably weary about pressing the boundaries to rival Cage’s poisonous
octane in their no-holds-barred/all-or-nothing confrontations. We can permissibly
accept Travolta’s reluctance even with these acting misfires, chalking it to that
unsettling prospect of switching faces. Frankly, this concept, unheard of in
1996, still leaves me feeling a bit queasy. So, does <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> still hold
up? Mostly. Actually, almost completely. Removed from its generation of grand
actioners, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> remains a daring, expertly crafted thrill ride. It’s
a roller coaster on steroids with a dash of testosterone-infused, fatalism on
tap for good measure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Interestingly,
Paramount has farmed out <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> to Kino Lorber for the 4K heavy
lifting. How does it all look? Predictably, up to studio and distributor’s high
standards in the UHD medium. The 4K was
struck from an original camera negative with Dolby Vision and HDR grading. The
results are tremendous. In projection, there is a film-like quality that belies
the digital source. Everything looks immaculate to the nth degree. Color fidelity
and saturation are magnificent. Flesh tones pop. Contrast is superb. Fine
details could scarcely be better. Interestingly, the Blu-ray – derived from the
same 4K master – looks almost as good. There are subtle nuances that pop best
in 4K. But mostly, you have to pause and look for them, which is either saying
something about the masterful integrity of the Blu or a lacking in the 4K.
Personally, I think the former is more accurate. Because the 4K is astounding. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Blu is too. There are two audio options: DTS 5.1 and 2.0. While some might poo-poo the lack of a 7.1 Atmos,
the 5.1 is certainly no slouch. Prepare
to give your speakers and sub some real exercise. This is one explosive sound
mix – literally and figuratively. The 4K includes a new audio commentary from
critics, Mike Leeder and Arne Venema. There’s also another archival one featuring
John Woo, Mike Werb and Michael Colleary. Werb and Colleary get another
commentary of their own and it is more comprehensive. The rest of the goodies
are housed on the standard Blu. The best is the hour-plus-long documentary, <i>The
Light and the Dark: The Making of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b></i>. This is followed up by <i>John
Woo: A Life in Pictures</i>; a half-hour retrospective. Finally, there is
barely 9 minutes of deleted scenes and a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Face/Off</b>
</span>is a bizarre actioner that continues to hold its own. If anything, the
counterculture absurdity of our present-age crumbling epoch in North American
society has caught up to the fanciful darkness depicted in Woo’s Franken-cinema.
Is it still a good show? Yes – mostly. Is it a perfect entertainment? Few
movies are. Consider <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Face/Off</span></b> among the top-tier of the majority. Highly
recommended!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #fcff01;">4.5 - both 4K and Blu-ray</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">5+</span><span style="color: #ffa400;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p>
<span style="color: #ffa400;"> </span></p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6878517206010926230.post-72026440600207967052024-01-11T13:21:00.002-05:002024-01-11T13:21:05.663-05:00COLUMBO: The 1970s - Seasons 1-7 (Universal, 1969 - 78) Kino Lorber<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hpjKHM3PtxyeDN_Y2F9NIfaTWhkVmSgCnIDofTNzK0eZnRp0n5xKKArdU45Nyf0FTT8GsQrWhjHtKjOMHQ_fX2LyPRs-MGKHatCNPEy0gt90pzaXnt4jElE-0pJcnIBVjpMW13kqbaTcHukAqv9oWnV5Sdu8J1qb4HMhde5cf4EpbExiS1H4iqMUrF8/s1358/COLUMBO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1358" data-original-width="1058" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hpjKHM3PtxyeDN_Y2F9NIfaTWhkVmSgCnIDofTNzK0eZnRp0n5xKKArdU45Nyf0FTT8GsQrWhjHtKjOMHQ_fX2LyPRs-MGKHatCNPEy0gt90pzaXnt4jElE-0pJcnIBVjpMW13kqbaTcHukAqv9oWnV5Sdu8J1qb4HMhde5cf4EpbExiS1H4iqMUrF8/w414-h532/COLUMBO.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Just one more
thing…”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> For anyone of a certain generation, this catch phrase will forever be
ascribed to actor, Peter Falk’s beloved/rumpled L.A.P.D. Lieutenant Columbo,
whose franchise carried his namesake from 1971 to 1978 as part of NBC’s
revolving ‘mystery movie’ lineup. Falk’s
brilliant incarnation of the seemingly and perpetually befuddled bumbler, eventually,
through deductive reasoning to unravel the distortions behind a crime of
murder, is, in hindsight, exceptional ‘must see’ television of the first
quality. Because <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> is not a ‘whodunit’. Within the first fifteen to thirty minutes of
each episode, void of Falk’s participation, the audience is shown precisely who
did it, how they did it, and furthermore, how they plan to get away with it.
So, the resultant storytelling is not gleaned from the traditional ’mystery’ of
the moment, but rather in the police-procedural brilliance of this unassuming
crime solver; an inversion of the TV crime story, later referenced as ‘<i>howcatchem</i>’.
Falk’s virtuosity here is in making Columbo simultaneously engaging and exasperating.
The mechanics of his mind appear, at first, to suffer from some ‘steel trap’
syndrome, and, never to be equal to the wicked quick-wittedness of all those
devious masterminds responsible for these murders. Indeed, until the very last
scene, it really does appear as though Columbo will be chagrined in his awkward
search for the truth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">However, like
Agatha Christie’s far more accomplished detective, Hercule Poirot, the devil
here is in Columbo’s meticulousness to root out the details. And thus, Columbo
emerges victorious, in spite of his artificially laidback attitude and
meandering crime-solving style. Sharp-witted, if blue-collar, here is a
homicide detective whose trademarked rumpled beige raincoat, chronic cigar-chomping,
and affinity for real beater, Peugeot 403, provides a cleverly inspired
camouflage to put the criminal element off his super-sleuth’s scent. Created by
Richard Levinson and William Link, the popularity of the series grew from its
ability to take Falk’s alter ego out of his ‘comfort zone’ and class, and drop
him into some very sinisterly moneyed backdrops – the crimes usually to
inveigle Columbo with California’s haughty hoi poloi. Almost from the outset,
Columbo and the prime suspect become ‘social’ with the suspect doing everything
to remain aloof, yet contemptuous of Columbo’s anecdotal ramblings and deceptive
clumsiness. Throughout <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>’s 70’s run, episodes ranged between 70
and 98 minutes to accommodate a commercial-interrupted hour-and-a-half or
two-hour timeslot. When NBC ‘officially’ retired the franchise in 1978, the
syndication of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> ensured it never entirely vanished off the
viewing radar, with its 1989 resurrection on rival network ABC practically
guaranteed. This continued with intermittent ‘movie(s) of the week’ until 2003.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Likely, the
unusual structure of these crime stories helped, not only to attract
viewership, but also set the franchise apart from other contemporary crime
shows. Owing more to the ‘cat and mouse’ folly, with Columbo as its ‘lamb bites
wolf’, the character of Columbo rarely appeared in the first act of these
stories, resulting in the entire second and third acts being considered as each
episode’s dénouement. Furthermore, Columbo and the criminal he seeks are almost
always fated to meet from the outset of the discovery of the victim, with the
instigator doing his/her utmost to misdirect Columbo from their involvement. In
most cases, Columbo is immediately suspicious of the murderer in his midst,
with the murderer also suspecting Columbo’s lackadaisical attitude as a ruse
for entrapment. The other departure here is in the crime-solving style of
Columbo who, often, keeps not only the criminal element but also the audience
in the dark regarding his narrowing proximity between the crime and the
criminal until his penultimate ‘gotcha’ moment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Falk’s expertise
here enlists the character of Lt. Columbo with a beguiling, shabby charisma. Even more curious, at least for a crime
series, the victims are oft spiteful and, at least marginally ‘deserving’ of
some sort of retribution, the ultimate revenge administered by someone who
otherwise might not have reacted in such a moment of criminal insanity,
creating an unease of empathy for the killer(s) rather than the deceased. While
crime stories usually conclude on a hyperactive chase or daring attempt by the
accused to escape from the law, the ending to virtually all episodes in the <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>
franchise reflects a more realistic and downtrodden sense of defeat and
acceptance by the murderer to finally face their own moral bankruptcy; an
Achilles Heel, unearthed too late to spare them life in prison or a date with
the electric chair. Variations on this
centralized structure manifest in several episodes throughout the series with
Columbo occasionally trailing the wrong person, while that person behaves in a
devious manner to spare the real killer his/her fate. There are also several
episodes where Columbo, unable to catch his killer via legitimate crime-solving
techniques, plants evidentiary fakes to elicit a panicked confession from the
accused that confirms his suspicions. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Levinson and
Link’s inspiration for the character derived partly from <i>Crime and
Punishment’s</i> Porfiry Petrovich with a dappling of G. K. Chesterton's <i>Father
Brown</i> as well as a dash of Inspector Fichet from 1955’s thriller, <b>Les
Diaboliques</b>. The dry run for <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> actually came about in 1960 when
Levinson and Link wrote an episode for <b>The Chevy Mystery Show</b>, in which
a detective, then named ‘Fisher’ (and played by Bert Freed) exhibits Columbo’s
penchant for a meandering crime-solving style. Like his later incarnation,
Freed’s ‘Fisher’s personal appearance is disheveled. And he chronically smoks
cigars. Buoyed by the success from that show, Levinson and Link went on to
adapt their drama into stagecraft, casting 70-years-young Hollywood alumni, Thomas
Mitchell as Columbo, Joseph Cotten as the killer and Agnes Moorehead as their
victim. Meanwhile, things were gearing up at NBC for a rotational ‘mystery’
franchise to fill their Sunday night programming line-up. Eventually, two other
series would be spawned from this franchise: <b>McCloud</b>, starring Dennis
Weaver as a cowboy-esque sleuth let loose in the big city, and, <b>McMillan
& Wife</b>, costarring Rock Hudson and Susan Saint James as a sort of ‘<i>Thin
Man’</i> knock-off. Levinson and Link’s reworking of their stagecraft into a
teleplay eventually found its way into NBC’s lineup. The network saw it as a
‘one off’ vehicle for Lee J. Cobb and Bing Crosby (as Columbo). Mercifully,
both actors turned NBC down, allowing Peter Falk to enter the negotiations.
Even better, Falk’s success in the role created a media buzz that immediately
convinced NBC to make <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> a main staple of their mystery franchise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">NBC had hoped to
release a <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span> </b>murder mystery every week, a commitment Falk refused
to accept, despite his $300,000 per episode salary, owing to others on his
roster of ‘things to do’. His salary would double when Falk resumed <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>
in 1989. Eventually, a compromise was reached, with <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Columbo</b> </span>airing the
second Wednesday of every month for one episode only. During its first season, Peter
Falk was honored with an Emmy. Falk would go on to win the coveted television
honor three more times. By its second season, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> had permanently
moved to Sunday nights along with the others in the ‘mystery lineup’. It would
remain NBC’s Sunday staple for the duration of its run. Curiously, throughout
the series, fans were never to know Columbo’s first name, nor ever to meet his
wife who figured prominently in many of Columbo’s conversations. In the days
before big screen TVs took over home viewing, Columbo flashes his badge in a
semi-close up to reveal the name ‘Frank Columbo’ as part of his I.D. However,
writer/producer Levinson has always insisted, Columbo had no first name…or
rather, none worth noting. Falk was instrumental in creating the look of his
character. Rather infamously, Peter Falk had only one eye, the other lost to
cancer while barely three-years-old. Hence, Columbo also had one eye – never
addressed in the series, but obvious for its lack of movement when studying
Falk’s performances in close-up. True story – the trademarked trench and
high-top shoes were Falk’s own. <i>“I just felt comfortable in it,”</i> Falk
later said. As for Columbo’s catch phrase, <i>“just one more thing”</i> –
Levinson would later suggest it was something he and Link came up with on the
fly to add runtime to an episode running short. And thus, an indelible and
beloved TV personality was created by happenstance. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Columbo’s
pedigree is irrefutable. Not only did the series engage an A-list roster of
stars from stage and screen, both past and ‘then’ present, but it served as a
proving ground for such up and coming directors as Steven Spielberg, who shot the
first season’s debut episode, ‘<b>Murder by the Book’</b> to considerable
acclaim a mere 4 years before<b> Jaws</b> transformed his reputation into that
of Hollywood’s blockbuster director. Of the listed luminaries, British star, Patrick
McGoohan played Columbo’s arch nemesis a record four times, with Jack Cassidy
and Robert Culp bringing up the rear (3 appearances each) and William Shatner
and George Hamilton cast as the ne’er-do-well twice apiece. Other high-profile
talent eager to play the baddie included Leonard Nimoy, Johnny Cash, John
Cassavetes, Edward Arnold, Ruth Gordon, Lee Grant, Jackie Cooper, Dick Van Dyke
and Faye Dunaway. Ever more, the cameos in the series were also being populated
by top-tier talent like Jamie Lee-Curtis, Kim Cattrall, Vincent Price, Myrna
Loy and Rod Steiger. But the most reoccurring cameo belonged to Mike Lally, clocking
in a record 23 episodes as token fodder, or approximately half of the original
series’ run. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1968’s
original pilot, <b><i>Prescription Murder</i></b>, a more slickly assembled
Columbo, sporting clean-cut hair, confronts a psychiatrist (Gene Barry) who has
murdered his wife (Nina Foch) and later, gal/pal and coconspirator (Katharine
Justice). Nearly 3 years later, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>’s second pilot, <b><i>Ransom for
a Dead Man</i></b> would inveigle the better known, disheveled Columbo, seeking
to unearth the truth behind the murder of a wealthy businessman (Harlan Warde)
at the hands of his scheming second wife (played by Lee Grant). When NBC
officially declared <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> as part of its reoccurring mystery
franchise, its debut episode, <b>Murder by the Book</b>, had one half of a once
prominent writing team (played by Jack Cassidy), jealously murder his
ex-partner (Martin Milner) in order to continue on as a solo act. In <b><i>Death
Lends a Hand</i></b>, an irascible P.I. Brimmer (Robert Culp) blackmails Leonore,
the wife (Patricia Crowley) of media mogul, Arthur Kennicut (Ray Milland) after
having an affair with her. Alas, when she refuses to play ball, Brimmer
accidentally murders her, then makes desperate attempts to cover up his crime.
In <b>Dead Weight</b>, Helen Stewart (Suzanne Pleshette) inadvertently
witnesses Major General Martin Hollister (Eddie Albert) murder Colonel Dutton (John
Kerr) after the latter suggests they dissolve their crooked embezzling
partnership. <b>Suitable for Framing</b>
finds art critic extraordinaire, Dale Kingston (Ross Martin) cold-bloodedly
assassinating his uncle to gain control of his priceless paintings. Lady in
Waiting finds a murderous Beth Chadwick (Susan Clark) exacting revenge on her
elder/richer sibling, Bryce (Richard Anderson) after he threatens to end her
affair with company lawyer, Peter Hamilton (Leslie Nielson). <b>Short Fuse</b>
has Roger Stanford (Roddy McDowall) kill his uncle David (James Gregory) to
gain control of the family’s lucrative chemical plant. You can bet Aunt Doris
(Ida Lupino) has something to say about this! In season one’s finale, <b>Blueprint
for Murder</b> (the only episode directed by Peter Falk), Columbo investigates
the disappearance of billionaire, Bo Williamson (Forrest Tucker) whose clash
with architect, Elliot Markham (Patrick O’Neal) leads to Bo becoming a
permanent resident of their new ‘super city’ designed to Markham’s specs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">While critics
and fans agree, <b>Season One</b> had no false starts among its mysteries, <b>Season
Two</b> would prove this was no fluke. The second season begins in earnest with
<b>Etude in Black</b>, following renown pianist, Alex Benedict’s (John
Cassavetes) vial attempts to cover up the brutal strangulation of his lover (Anjanette
Comer) thus, keeping their affair from his suspecting and wealthy wife (Blythe
Danner) and her mother (Myrna Loy). In <b>Greenhouse Jungle</b>, Tony Goodland’s
(Brad Dillman) feigned kidnapping to win back his wife’s waning affections
derails when his Uncle Jarvis (Ray Milland) legitimizes Goodland’s disappearing
act for good. <b>The Most Crucial Game</b> finds football general manager, Paul
Hanlon (Robert Culp) eager to put a bullet into the wealthy playboy/owner (Dean
Stockwell) of the team, and, in <b>Dagger of the Mind</b>, Columbo arrives in
London, England to unravel the murder of wealthy patron of the arts, Sir Roger
Haversham (John Williams), killed by the husband and wife play actors, Lillian
Stanhope (Honor Blackman) and Nicholas Frame (Richard Basehart) presently appearing
in his failed West End production of Macbeth. In <b>Requiem for a Falling Star</b>,
screen queen, Nora Chandler (Anne Baxter) unearths that her assistant, Jean
Davis (Pippa Scott) is involved with rag journalist, Jerry Parks (Mel Ferrer)
who is also blackmailing Nora. <b>A Stitch in Crime</b> casts Leonard Nimoy as
a malicious surgeon out to murder his competition so he can continue to reap
the benefits of performing experimental surgeries on unwitting patients. When
nurse Sharon Martin (Anne Francis) discovers what he is up to, she meets a
fateful demise. In <b><i>The Most Dangerous Match</i></b>, aspiring chess
player, Emmett Clayton (Laurence Harvey) murders the Russian grand master to
become the champion of the sport. In <b><i>Double Shock</i></b> a fitness guru
(Paul Stewart) is offed by his nephew (Martin Landau) – a celebrity chef,
conspiring with his twin to inherit the franchise and the estate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Season Three</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">’s crime line-up
includes <b><i>Lovely, But Lethal</i></b><i>,</i> involving maven, Viveca Scott
(Vera Miles) whose timeless beauty is a façade, masking a desperate attempt to
salvage her cosmetics company by concealing that her ‘miracle’ youth formula is
a fraud. To keep her secret, Viveca murders Karl Lessing (Martin Sheen) – the
only chemist who knows the truth. <b><i>Any Old Port in A Storm</i></b> has winemaker,
Adrian Carsini (Donald Pleasance) murder his half-brother, Ric (Gary Conway)
after the latter threatens to sell the family business to the highest bidder to
support his hedonistic lifestyle. <b>Candidate for Crime</b> finds aspiring
politico, Nelson Hayward (Jackie Cooper) killing his campaign manager (Ken Swofford)
after the latter threatens to expose Nelson’s affair with his secretary (Tisha
Sterling) to his wife (Joanne Linville). In <b>Double Exposure</b>, Dr. Bart
Keppel (Robert Culp) rids himself of Vic Norris (Robert Middleton), the client
who bankrolled Keppel’s early success, but now demands a bigger cut of the
profits. In <b>Publish or Perish</b>, a disreputable editor (Jack Cassidy) pairs
with heartless hitman, Eddie Kane (John Chandler) to assassinate novelist,
Allen Mallory (Mickey Spillane). In <b>Mind Over Mayhem</b>, a cybernetic
research director, Dr. Marshall Cahill (Jose Ferrer) kills fellow scientist,
Howard Nicholson (Lew Ayres) when Nicholson threatens to expose Cahill’s son,
Neil (Robert Walker) for plagiarism. In <b>Swan Song</b>, gospel singer, Tommy
Brown (Johnny Cash) stages the deaths of his vindictive wife (Ida Lupino) and underaged
mistress (Bonnie Van Dyke) in a fiery plane crash. Finally, <b>A Friend in Deed</b>
has Hugh Caldwell (Michael McGuire) begging his good friend, Deputy Police
Commissioner Mark Halperin (Richard Kiley) to help him cover up the
‘accidental’ murder of his wife, Margaret (Rosemary Murphy).<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Season Four</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> marked a paring
down of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>’s yearly appearances from 8 to 6, also a foreshortening
of each episode’s runtime from 2-hrs. to 1 ½ hours. The season begins strong with
<b>An Exercise in Fatality</b> when fitness club guru, Milo Janus (Robert
Conrad) murders one of his franchise owners (Gene Stafford) about to expose
some serious fraud within the organization. <b>Negative Reaction</b> finds Pulitzer
Prize-winning photographer, Paul Galesko (Dick Van Dyke) forging a ransom note
in his dark room to cover up he has already murdered his wife, Frances
(Antoinette Bower). <b>By Dawn’s Early Light</b> has Col. Lyle Rumford (Patrick
McGoohan) execute William Haynes (Tom Wilcox), the man endeavoring to make
their cadet academy more profitable by instituting a co-ed policy into their
all-male student body. In <b>Troubled Waters</b>, a Mexican cruise turns deadly
when a rich playboy (Robert Vaughan) feigns a heart attack to distract while he
murders unscrupulous lounge singer/blackmailer, Rosanna Wells (Poupee Boucar).
In <b>Playback</b>, a vicious electronics wizard (Oskar Werner) kills the
company’s president – and – his mother-in-law (Martha Scott), caring for his
paralyzed wife, Elizabeth (Gena Rowlands). In <b>Series Four</b>’s finale, <b>A
Deadly State of Mind</b>, scheming psychiatrist, Dr. Mark Collier (George
Hamilton) frames his emotionally scarred lover, Nadia (Leslie Ann Warren) for
the death of her husband, Karl (Stephen Elliott) – a murder he committed right
in front of her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Season Five</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">’s opener, <b>Forgotten
Lady</b> follows the exploits of a deluded former song and dance sensation
(Janet Leigh) whose aged/wealthy husband (Sam Jaffe) refuses to fund her big
Broadway ‘comeback’. Predictably, the diva turns to murder to secure his
fortunes. In <b>A Case of Immunity</b>, Middle Eastern Security Chief Youseff
Alafa (Andre Lawrence) is killed by Hassan Salah (Hector Elizondo), resulting with
international ramifications. In <b>Identity Crisis</b>, a pair of CIA
operatives conspire on a planned heist. Too bad one, Nelson Brenner (Patrick
McGoohan) is actually out to murder the other, A.J. Henderson (Leslie Nielson),
thereafter to frame a corpse for his crime. In <b>A Matter of Honor</b>, an
aspiring matador, Curro Rangel (A. Martinez) is gored in the ring. While
recovering, legendary ex-matador Luis Montoya (Ricardo Montalban) promises his
father, Hector (Robert Carricart) to kill the bull, and thus avoid Curro having
to engage in a rematch. Instead, Luis drugs Hector and then unleashes the bull
to finish him off. <b>Now You See Him</b> returns Columbo alumni, Jack Cassidy
to the fray, this time as an internationally celebrated magician who shoots a
cabaret owner blackmailing him to keep his spurious Nazi past a secret. <b>Last
Salute to the Commadore</b> is widely regarded as a curious Columbo mystery as
it sacrifices the <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> formula for a traditional whodunit involving
the murder of a curmudgeonly mariner (John Dehner), disgusted by his family’s
backstabbing and ineptitude. This includes his ineffectual nephew, Swanny (Fred
Draper), boozy daughter, Joanna (Diane Baker) and snooping son-in-law, Charles
(Robert Vaughan); all of them out to transform his boutique boat-building enterprise
into a corporation leviathan. At the end of <b>Season Five</b>, Peter Falk’s
contract was up for renewal. And while many speculated the franchise would not
be renewed, Falk eventually ironed out the details for another return to form. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Season Six</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>
is the thinnest of the lot, owing to these stalled contractual negotiations and
a bittersweet détente between Peter Falk and NBC. So, the season features only
3 episodes; the first, <b>Fade in to Murder</b>, concerning TV star, Ward
Fowler (William Shatner) blackmailed by studio exec, Claire Daley (Lola
Albright). Fowler then frames his assistant, Mark (Bert Remsen) after staging a
daring robbery in which Claire is predictably shot and killed. In <b>Old
Fashioned Murder</b>, spinstress, Ruth Lytton (Joyce Van Patten) is in danger
of losing her family’s museum to crushing debt. Ruth bribes the museum’s
security guard, Milton Schaeffer (Peter S. Feibleman) to partake of faking a
robbery for which she promises to pay him $100,000 from the insurance payout.
Instead, she guns him down to keep everything for herself. Finally, in <b>The
Bye-Bye Sky-high I.Q. Murder Case</b>, accountant, Oliver Brandt (Theodore
Bikel) having embezzled from business partner and life-long friend, Bertie
Hastings (Sorrell Booke), now must resort to murder to keep his fabulous
lifestyle afloat. There are many who consider this episode one of the best
Columbo mysteries ever made.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Season Seven</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> offers a ‘full’
season of <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> mysteries, beginning with <b>Try and Catch Me</b>, involving
the murderous intent of a famous mystery maven (Ruth Gordon). <b>Murder Under
Glass </b>cast Louis Jourdan as a devious food critic, while <b>Make Me A
Murder</b> stars all but forgotten Trish Van Devere as a villainous TV exec who
kills her lover (Lawrence Luckinbill) merely to gain access to the executive
washroom. In <b>How to Dial a Murder</b>, renowned behavioral psychologist, Dr.
Eric Mason (Nicol Williamson) plots revenge against colleague, Charlie Hunter
(Joel Fabiani) who was having an affair with Mason’s wife until she died under
‘mysterious’ circumstances. In <b>The Conspirators</b>, what would prove to be <b>Columbo</b>’s
first ‘final curtain call’, waggish poet, Joe Devlin (Clive Revill) is running
guns for the Irish Republican Army, but becomes embroiled with a crooked
supplier, Vincent Pauley (Albert Paulsen) whom he later shoots dead.
Interestingly, <b>The Conspirators</b> was originally intended as a pilot for a
new show on NBC. Instead, it was repurposed as a <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span> </b>mystery. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">While Falk was
eager to continue the franchise, NBC was not. Sagging ratings and a change in
viewing habits and tastes ensured <b>Season Seven</b> would be <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>’s
farewell to the airwaves…<i>almost.</i> By 1989, <span style="color: #ffa400;"><b>Columbo</b> </span>was rife for
resurrection, thanks, in part, to its chronic syndication throughout the
decade, thus to ensure Falk’s rumpled detective never entirely left the air. When
Peter Falk officially bowed out of his most famous role in 2003, he still had
the desire to continue working. As late
as 2007, Falk hoped to reboot <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span> </b>for another 2-hour mystery movie: <i>Hear
No Evil</i>. Alas, the executive brain trust at ABC, the network having taken over the reigns of the franchise's mid-80's revival, saw no earthly value in the
project. Later that same year, Falk was diagnosed with rapidly advancing
dementia. Two years after this announcement Falk could barely remember his
name, and, tragically, had no personal recollections of the series that had so
indelibly etched his persona into the annals of television history. On June 23,
2011, Peter Falk died from complications of this mind-altering disease. He was
83. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Peter Falk was
always protective of the show and his character, encouraging the entire staff
to do their best work, and, on occasion, critical when he felt certain areas in
the creative process were lagging. The luxury of time between episodes appealed
to Falk’s meticulous sense of time-honored craftsmanship over the work-a-day
‘quick n’ dirty’ nature of then standardized TV fodder. Occasionally, Falk’s fastidiousness ran afoul
of Universal execs who erroneously believed quality could be maintained on a tighter
budget and schedule. And Falk, infamously, had his rows with Uni’s executive
brain trust over what he believed was their attempts to alter the terms of his
contractual agreement. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Retrospectively,
viewing <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span> </b>today is a wonderfully ‘quaint’ experience that
continues to reflect the world as it once was, while strangely to have remained
highly relevant in the world that now, regrettably, is much closer to the show’s
darkly cynical strain, only hinted at in every <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> episode. What is
absent from the franchise, unlike most crime story serials since to have
followed it, is a bent for the grotesqueness in the crime of murder. The
killings depicted in <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span> </b>are all of the ‘<i>clean drawing room’</i>
variety, very much a return to the stomping grounds of an Agatha Christie
thriller, more so than a Dashiell Hammett novel. And Columbo’s unassuming
search for the truth favors the Sherlock Holmes model, later, successfully
adapted to another Universal long-running crime series; <b>Murder, She Wrote</b>
(1984-96). Because of this, <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> endures as suitable, and strangely
comforting for all ages, and likely, for all time. The creators’ insistence on
a high level of quality, not to mention the ever-revolving roster of one-time
A-list talents trundled out to excellent effect, promises that most every
mystery is a gem. Granted, some are more highly regarded than others. And fans
and <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> novices alike are certain to have their favorites. But the
creative verve to always keep <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> at its level best is what keeps it
joyful/charming ‘must see’ TV.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">In an age where
anything can be TiVo’ed to accommodate one’s discretion and leisure, it is easy
to forget how wildly popular <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> was with audiences back in the day.
Literally millions stayed home, or otherwise, rearranged their schedules in
order to tune in and watch the great detective solve another baffling crime.
The elemental drawing power of ‘star’ names cast in well-intended cameos also
helped draw in the audience. And, of course, we would be remiss to not mention
the stellar writing and directing by up-and-comers and already established
fellows like Ben Gazzara, Nicholas Colasanto, Patrick McGoohan, Vincent
McEveety, Steven Bochco, Steven Spielberg, Jonathan Latimer, and Jonathan
Demme, among others. But in the final analysis, what held the audience
spellbound then, and keeps them coming back again and again since, is Peter
Falk’s exquisitely nuanced, joyfully obtuse, and expertly crafted turn as the
disheveled master of deduction. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Just one more
thing</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">…<b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>’s entire original series arrives on Blu-ray state’s side
thanks to Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video. Back in 2016, Uni
made <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> available only in Japan (odd marketing decision) in a
handsome ‘cigar box’ package with extensive liner notes that, unfortunately,
were also in Japanese. Kino’s effort is a slimmed down version, housed in plain
cardboard, albeit, with new artwork commissioned from Tony Stella, and sporting
‘revitalized’ transfers, marketed as derived in 4K. If that’s the case, the
results here, while mostly pleasing, do not necessarily bear out the marketing
hype. While most of the episodes are represented in exemplary condition, with
gorgeous color reproduction, exceptional overall image clarity, properly
balanced contrast, and barely an age-related artifact to complain about, there
are a handful of episodes looking much rougher than anticipated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some examples: ‘<b><i>Murder
by the Book</i></b>’ and ‘<b><i>Death Lends a Hand</i></b>’ represent a quantum
step down in overall image quality, with ‘<b><i>Book</i></b>’ appearing to have
been sourced from archival elements at least several generations removed from
an original camera negative. Image quality here is murky except in close-up,
fuzzy to a fault and riddled in age-related wear and tear. Contrast also
appears to suffer in spots, particularly during scenes shot at night. Another
example: the credit sequence in ‘<b>Playback</b>’ is severely marred by horrendous
gate weave and edge enhancement. A handful of episodes throughout the series are
plagued with age-related dirt, damage and speckling. While none of this is
egregious, it is, nevertheless, present. So, while Uni <i>can</i> claim to have
mastered everything in 4K, they haven’t exactly spent the extra coin to
‘restore’ everything in 4K. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-size: large;">The 2.0 DTS mono
audio tracks sound good for the most part, but there are some instances where
obvious damage has resulted in very scratchy or considerably muffled dialogue
and SFX. Given this is <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b>, and, also, that a lot of effort has
obviously been invested to upgrade the overall quality of these tired old
masters, it remains baffling – outside of the obvious coin necessary to
properly complete the work – why Uni should have balked and not applied the
finishing touches. The other disappointment here is extras. There aren’t any.
While virtually all episodes offer up an isolated music and effects track,
there are no audio commentaries, featurettes or documentaries to compliment with
fresh insight. Bottom line: <b><span style="color: #ffa400;">Columbo</span></b> remains required viewing. Despite
the passage of time, the series is engaging good fun in an age to have wholly
forgotten what it means to really ‘put on a show’. The Blu-rays are mostly
solid, with caveats throughout. Judge and buy accordingly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">FILM RATING: out
of 5 – 5 being the best<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">4</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;"> overall<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">VIDEO/AUDIO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">3.5</span><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;"> overall<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-size: large;">EXTRAS<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-line-height-alt: 10.7pt; tab-stops: 45.0pt 85.5pt 94.5pt 99.0pt 103.5pt 1.5in 112.5pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">0</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>
</p>Nick Zegarachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09653420010211280432noreply@blogger.com0