Author: Colin McGuigan

Pink String and Sealing Wax

/ Colin McGuigan / 8 Comments

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Robert Hamer may well have been the best director to work for Ealing. The man who produced  Kind Hearts and Coronets cut his teeth on one of the segments in the grandfather of all horror anthologies, Dead of Night. He also made one of the most memorable British noirs in It Always Rains on Sunday (1947), featuring Googie Withers. One year before that, he used the same actress in the Victorian noir Pink String and Sealing Wax, the title of which refers to a chemist’s means of packaging his remedies. While I wouldn’t say this is the best of Hamer’s films, it is a solid enough effort hampered by an unfocused script.

Edward Sutton (Mervyn Johns) is a Brighton chemist, a self-made man who has clawed his way up from humble beginnings to attain respectability as a forensic analyst. He remains, however, a thoroughly objectionable prig and domestic tyrant. Returning from court in a thundering good mood, having just seen his testimony send a woman to the gallows, he proceeds to humiliate his lovelorn son, reduce first his younger daughter to tears by informing her (on her birthday no less) that he intends using the guinea pigs she thought were a present in some unmentionable experiments, and then draw a similar reaction from the elder girl by dashing her hopes of a career in music – and all this before lunch has even been served! So it’s no surprise when the eldest son, David (Gordon Jackson), decides to go out and get hammered in the seedier part of town. He finds himself in a pub run by Pearl Bond (Withers) and her brutish, alcoholic husband. It’s this part of the story, which concentrates on Pearl and her complicated and unhappy relationships, that makes up the real substance of the film. The action moves away from the twee and slightly soapy Sutton clan to the far more colorful and vital world of the lower classes. David finds himself attracted to Pearl and the loose living world she inhabits, and slowly, unwittingly, he is drawn into her plans to relieve herself of her increasingly abusive spouse. The real pity is that the script meanders too much and this straying from the point blunts the thrust of the narrative. Far too much time is wasted on the unnecessary subplot concerning the eldest daughter’s efforts to pursue her dream of becoming an opera singer. I guess the idea was to highlight the inflexible nature of Sutton senior, but in doing so much of the tension of the plot drains away and the whole picture suffers.

Googie Withers plays the part of the femme fatale to the hilt and manages to capture the sympathy of the viewer as effortlessly as she captures the affections of the men around her. She puts in a really fine piece of film acting, conveying as much of her thinking and emotion through her eyes and body language as through her words. A very young Gordon Jackson is quite appealing as the poor innocent sap who finds himself in over his head before he knows it. Mervyn Johns is always watchable, although his is pretty much a one-note performance as the rigid and domineering head of the house who sees his authority come under attack. Still and all, his final confrontation with Withers, as he calmly and coldly points out the fate awaiting her, is powerfully delivered and retains a chilling quality. Hamer directs smoothly and handles both the intimate scenes and the sourer and more bitter ones with equal skill. As I said, he’s only let down by the untidy script which should have left out some of the more pointless scenes.

Optimum’s R2 DVD is a fairly good if unspectacular affair. The print used is in reasonable condition but there does seem to be a bit of contrast and brightness boosting here and there. As usual with Optimum this is a barebones disc with no subs and just a chapter menu. All in all, Pink String and Sealing Wax is an enjoyably dark movie with some good acting and professional direction. It’s just a pity the writing couldn’t have been tightened up a bit.

 

Tread Softly Stranger

/ Colin McGuigan / 3 Comments

The last year or so has seen the release on DVD of a number of British crime pictures that I had almost given up hope of ever seeing again. Tread Softly Stranger (1958) falls into film noir territory courtesy of the shadowy photography and the focus on a three way releationship between the good-for-nothing characters.

Johnny Mansell (George Baker) is a small time gambler who, after a run of bad luck at the racetrack, goes on the lam to save his hide. He heads back to the town in the north of England where he grew up, and where his brother still lives. The brother, Dave (Terence Morgan), works as a bookkeeper in the local foundry and has got himself involved with a night club hostess called Calico (Diana Dors). Right from the beginning Johnny takes an interest in Calico – not that anyone could blame the man for that – but holds off doing anything about it. It’s abundantly clear that Calico is more attracted to this flashier London-based brother than to the dull, bespectacled Dave. It’s also abundantly clear (Calico sports a diamond watch) that Dave’s infatuation is leading to him living beyond his means. Matters come to a head when the foundry faces an audit and Dave reveals that he’s been borrowing from the company accounts to finance his lifestyle. With only a week to make good the deficit on the books Johnny hopes to win enough at the track while Calico, still smarting from Johnny’s rejection of her advances, suggests breaking into the foundry and cleaning out the payroll. From here everything starts to go badly wrong, leading to murder, suspicion and psychological breakdown.

Diana Dors’ femme fatale is easily the best thing in this movie, oozing sex appeal as she wiggles and pouts her way round the sets, driving both the brothers up the walls with desire. The two male leads are just about adequate, but never completely convincing. George Baker can’t quite nail the charming scoundrel bit, while Terence Morgan overdoes it as the nervy brother with the cork too tight in the bottle. One of the pleasures of British films of this period is the selection of support players available. This is especially important here, given the shortcomings of both Baker and Morgan. Joseph Tomelty brings a paternal warmth to his role as a doomed watchman. And Patrick Allen is fine as Tomelty’s son, and the brothers’ childhood friend, whose suspicions and snooping create the tension of the latter half of the film. There’s also a nice, offbeat little cameo from Wilfrid Lawson, whose distinctive voice makes his affection for his pet rabbits all the more startlingly macabre. Gordon Parry does a competent job of directing and moves the camera nicely to set up some interesting shots. He is ably supported by cinematographer Douglas Slocombe’s atmospheric shooting of the shadows and smog enveloping the northern town.

Tread Softly Stranger is available on DVD in R2 from Odeon in a fair enough transfer. For the most part  the print used is in reasonable condition, although there is a significant scratch which shows up around the half way mark and lingers for a few minutes. I don’t feel the need to be too critical of Odeon for not cleaning this print up more as the film is a pretty obscure title, and I can’t imagine it shifting enough  copies to justify costly restoration. These kinds of titles are purely niche material and I’m just happy to see the likes of it available at all. There’s also a version out in R1 from VCI in a box of British B titles. I have only seen a few small screencaps of the R1 so can’t really comment other than to say it looked a bit hazy and with a greenish tint compared to Odeon’s release. I’d recommend this release to anyone who enjoys British crime/noir pictures of the period – not a great movie but a highly enjoyable one nonetheless.

Desert Fury

/ Colin McGuigan / 4 Comments

Can a technicolor movie be considered a film noir? I think so. Sure, the form lends itself better to the harshness of black and white photography where the light and shadows can be more skilfully manipulated. Having said that, film noir is more than just a photographic style – it’s a style of film making. To me, noir is a combination of many elements (theme, character, time, location, photography etc.) and the more boxes we can check, the closer we come to defining it. Photography is, undoubtedly, one of the major elements that needs to be present – I just feel that photographic style rather than color vs B&W is the clincher. As such, I feel Desert Fury (1947) is most definitely noir. Although the movie is shot in blinding technicolor, the themes and characterization place it firmly in the realm of dark cinema.

Paula Haller (Lizabeth Scott) returns to Chuckawalla, the small desert town where she was raised by her widowed mother Fritzi (Mary Astor). Paula is shown to be an outsider right from the off, snubbed by the locals due to her mother’s ownership of the town’s gambling joint. The only friend she has is Tom Hanson (Burt Lancaster), a former cowboy now working as town deputy after an accident put an end to his former career. Paula’s arrival back home coincides with the reappearance of a shady character called Eddie Bendix (John Hodiak), whose wife died years earlier in a mysterious road accident. When Paula falls for Bendix a whole hornet’s nest of passion is stirred up as Fritzi, Hanson, and Bendix’s partner Johnny (Wendell Corey) all, for their own reasons, try to keep them apart. What tilts this into noir, rather than straight melodrama, is the twisted nature of the relationships involved. Paula is said to bear a strong resemblance to Bendix’s late wife; Fritzi and Bendix were formerly lovers; there’s more than a hint of jealous competition between the two female leads; and there are strong suggestions that the relationship of Bendix and Johnny might involve some sexual undercurrents – heady stuff indeed for 1947. There’s also a nice cyclical form to the movie, which both opens and closes with characters staring over the rails of a bridge at the site of a fatal crash.

This is a picture that’s dominated by the performances of the women. Mary Astor is near perfect casting as the worldly and tough dame who rules the roost in a man’s world, yet struggles to tame the impulses of her headstrong daughter. Lizabeth Scott was born to star in films noir, and she does the business here as the troubled heroine with the whiskey voice who has to learn a few hard lessons. Burt Lancaster’s role is a bit of a thankless one; he seems to do little more than cruise up and down the desert highway, hoping to run into Scott on her return from Hodiak’s rented pad. Hodiak himself gives an interesting performance as man who’s clearly not all he seems. His initial detachment and suppressed aggression hint at some dark secret, and he gradually descends further into a kind of manic vindictiveness until his flaws and weakness are finally exposed by the sly and knowing Corey. Director Lewis Allen makes sure everything moves along smoothly and makes excellent use of the harshly beautiful locations. A word also for cinematographer Charles Lang, who makes those same desolate landscapes positively pop off the screen.

Desert Fury is available on DVD in R4 from a company called DV1. Their disc looks fantastic with strong color and detail, although there are some speckles and damage marks here and there. It is, however, totally barebones with not even subs offered. On the plus side there are some interesting liner notes  printed on the reverse of the cover – and it should be available cheaply. For me, this was pretty much a blind buy and I ended up enjoying it a lot. Recommended.

Ride, Vaquero

/ Colin McGuigan / 2 Comments

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Ride, Vaquero (1953) was one of those films that always seemed to elude me. I’d read about it and heard about it often but, somehow, could never manage to see it. Well, I’ve finally got around to it. Robert Taylor may not be the first actor some would think of as a western character but the fact is he made a good number of oaters in his time. I’ve been watching quite a few of his westerns recently (the ones in the R1 westerns set, and a TV broadcast of The Hangman) and I quite enjoyed this.

Rio (Taylor) is the right hand man for bandit chief Jose Esqueda (Anthony Quinn), operating along the Texas/Mexico border in the aftermath of the Civil War. The end of the war has thrown up new challenges for these men, namely the arrival of new settlers and the renewed interest of the army and the federal government. Esqueda understands that such developments will spell the end of his reign as the undisputed master of his territory. His preferred course of action is a simple one; drive out the settlers before they have had a chance to put down permanent roots. The toughest proposition Esqueda has yet to face comes in the form of King Cameron (Howard Keel), who has come west with his wife (Ava Gardner) to build a new life. An abortive raid on the Cameron ranch leads to the capture of Rio. Instead of handing him over to the law, Cameron offers Rio the opportunity to switch allegiances and become his partner. He accepts, but the question remains whether his decision is based on a desire to embrace a more lawful lifestyle, or just a desire to embrace Camerons wife.

Director John Farrow manages to throw a number of big themes into the mix – the old ways vs progress, loyalty and betrayal, and a man’s need to hold onto what he has won. Taylor gives a good performance as a man who’s in search of his place in the world. He may seem cold and aloof, but that’s surely an essential part of the character. His precise relationship with Esqueda is not fully revealed until the end, and it goes a long way towards explaining the alienation his character feels. Anthony Quinn gives the lusty, larger-than-life treatment to his role of the bandit king, and it’s very enjoyable. Ava Gardner naturally looks great and brings a credibility to her part as the rancher’s wife with the wandering eye. Howard Keel is just about adequate but, since I believe this was his first non-musical role, I won’t be too harsh on him. There are also small yet memorable parts for Jack Elam and Ted De Corsia.

Ride, Vaquero has recently been released on DVD by Warners in France. The disc is a barebones affair with removable French subs and, unfortunately, boasts a weak transfer. The image doesn’t seem to have undergone any restoration and looks soft throughout. The biggest problem though is the colour, which has faded badly. The film was shot using the cheap Anscocolor process and if you’ve seen the recent R1 of Escape form Fort Bravo you’ll have some idea of what to expect. That said, the film is well worth 90 minutes of anybody’s time and I’d recommend it, if you can get past the deficiencies in the DVD transfer.

Seminole

/ Colin McGuigan / 5 Comments

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Budd Boetticher is celebrated, and rightly so, for the seven westerns he made with Randolph Scott in the late 50s. Seminole was produced just a few years before those collaborations and, while it’s a satisfying enough picture, it’s not quite up there with his best. One could, I suppose, quibble about its credentials as a western due to the setting (Florida) and the time period (1835) but I feel it’s as near as makes no difference.

The story, most of which is recounted in a long flashback sequence, follows the newly appointed Lt. Caldwell (Rock Hudson) who is travelling back to his birthplace in Florida to take up a position at Fort King. His arrival coincides with the beginnings of an uprising among the Seminole, provoked by a government plan to uproot the tribe and move them west to prevent their presence slowing down the nation’s expansion. Within this framing story there’s further conflict due to the revelation that Caldwell’s boyhood friend, the half breed Osceola (Anthony Quinn), is not only the chief of the Seminole but is also vying for the affections of his sweetheart Revere Muldoon (Barbara Hale). While Revere shuttles back and forth in the role of intermediary between the Seminole and the army, a plan is set in motion by the fort’s commander, Major Degan (Richard Carlson), to strike at the enemy in their Everglades homeland and thus preempt any further threat.

The film raises a number of issues, only a few of which are fully explored. The main conflict is the internal struggle which Caldwell experiences between his loyalty to the army and his inherent sympathy for the Seminole he has known all his life. This leads to his being suspected of treachery by his superiors and his eventual court martial. The film tries hard to show the Seminloe in a positive light (mostly due to the performance of Anthony Quinn) but generally takes the middle way, since the army is portrayed as being reasonably even-handed with the exception of the uptight martinet Major Degan. This leads to a bit of a pat, upbeat ending. Much stronger is the middle section where Degan leads his troop on a disastrous march through the steamy swamps with a huge cannon in tow, all the while insisting they keep their tunics buttoned to the collar as per the regulations. One of the more interesting themes, and the film really only touches on it, is that of miscegenation. It is quite clear that Revere has been involved in a long-term relationship with Osceola but, after a brief mention by the chief of how white society would frown on this, she quite happily drops him and contents herself with a future by Caldwell’s side.

Rock Hudson is just about adequate in his role as the new officer forced to make war on his one time friend but his acting is a little too wooden to do justice to a part which requires him to experience a good deal of inner turmoil. Anthony Quinn fares better as the reluctant war chief whose living in both the white and Seminole cultures has afforded him an understanding of both. However, the role, as written, calls for a little too much nobility on his part and so weakens the chracter. Richard Carlson’s Degan is a very one dimensional portrayal which consists of much manic ranting and petty spitefulness, still he makes for a good hissable villain. As for Barbara Hale, she hasn’t a lot to do except act as a plot device and provide  some decoration. Lee Marvin shows up in one of his small early parts as Sergeant Magruder and adds a touch of class to the proceedings, as he always did. Boetticher directs the whole thing at his trademark brisk pace, and does his best work when he moves out from the confines of the fort into the swamp scenes and the ensuing battle at the Seminole camp. As I said earlier, his finest work would come a few years later but Seminole remains an entertaining little piece.

Now for the DVD. Seminole is available in R2 in the UK from Optimum and the transfer can best be described as weak. The picture is very soft and muddy throughout, and the colours are extremely faded – a real shame since this is a movie that would benefit enormously from strong, vibrant colours. The only bonus included is the theatrical trailer. There are editions of the film available from France and Germany but I have no idea if they look any better. All told, I would recommend the film – pity about the DVD.

 

3:10 to Yuma

/ Colin McGuigan / 34 Comments

I guess, like everything else, the circumstances in which you view a movie will affect your perception of it. I just rewatched the 2007 3:10 to Yuma the other day having already reacquainted myself with the 1957 version the previous night. Now, I’ve seen the original many times and always held it in high regard although it’s not without its faults. So when I went to see the remake, during its theatrical run, I knew that the central story was a strong one and I was curious to see what it would turn out like. At the time I came away thinking that I had just seen a moderately entertaining but imperfect film. In short, I wasn’t overly displeased. The thing is though, I hadn’t seen the original for a few years at that point. Viewing the two versions so close together has forced me to alter my appraisal of the remake somewhat.

The plot of both films is derived from a short story by Elmore Leonard, and tells of a struggling Arizona rancher Dan Evans (Van Heflin in the original, Christian Bale in the remake) who witnesses a stage robbery carried out by notorious outlaw Ben Wade (Glenn Ford in the original, Russell Crowe in the remake). When Wade is later captured Evans volunteers to escort him to the town of Contention and put him on the titular 3:10 to Yuma state prison. Evans hopes that the money he earns from this will be enough to see him and his family through the drought that’s crippling his ranch. There follows a battle for Evans’ soul as Wade tries to buy, persuade and cajole the desperate rancher into letting him go while the clock counts down and the threat of attack by the outlaw gang draws ever nearer.

Those are the necessarily common elements, but if a remake is to have any purpose it must add to or change certain aspects of the original. Firstly, the 2007 version expands the story and runs about a half hour longer, most of this extra time being used to depict the journey to Contention and introduce more characters. This doesn’t really come off successfully for, despite being crammed with incident, it simply serves to slow down the central thrust of the story: the conflict and relationship between Evans and Wade. Where the original cut straight to the chase, the remake forces the viewer to sit through a lot of implausible action which seems to exist merely to dispose of a few superfluous characters. By the time Evans and Wade reach Contention and hole up in the hotel the momentum has been lost and the tension levels have dropped. The DVD of the 2007 movie contains an extra feature which carries the title An Epic Explored, and that tells a tale. This is essentially a small, intimate story based around two men and covering a short period of time. The 1957 version succeeds admirably in telling this story, whereas the remake has ambitions to be something altogether grander yet falls short of fulfilling them.

The other major difference in the two films is a change in emphasis and tone. The first movie presented Dan Evans as a man in a bad spot and dogged by ill fortune, but there was nothing pathetic or defeatist about him and the viewer can feel for him without ever being asked to. The new Dan Evans is, we are told over and over, a cringing loser who manages to elicit only pity from his captive rather than respect. In fact, even his family are contemptuous of him – Van Heflin’s distraught wife turned up in Contention to beg him to drop the matter and return home while Christian Bale’s other half disappears from the story early on like she just doesn’t give a damn what happens to him, and I’m not sure if I blame her. The ’57 movie showed Evans’ two boys to be a couple of nice respectful kids, while the ’07 one gives us a surly brat who never misses an opportunity to bad-mouth his father, regardless of the company they’re in, and left this viewer yearning to see him on the receiving end of a good hiding. All told, there are far too many jarringly modern touches to the remake; when Bale’s wife upbraids him for not making decisions together and his son throws another insult his way I was taken out of the film completely. Such moments defy all logic in terms of time and place – it’s akin to seeing a bunch of brawling cavemen interrupted by one of their number saying “Wait a minute fellas, surely we can talk this through like civilized men.”

Delmer Daves is a director who I feel has been severely underrated and a comparison of his work with that of James Mangold during two key sequences points this up. Take the scene with Glenn Ford and Felicia Farr first. When they stand on the porch and talk about their former lives there’s a very poignant sense of two lonely people and their sense of loss. As the camera follows Ford back into the saloon there’s a kind of innocent charm about his seduction of Farr, and then the camera zoom and music cue hit the mark perfectly when he asks the colour of her eyes. In contrast, Mangold just has Crowe sidle up behind Vinessa Shaw, grunt in her ear and off they go. The other sequence that highlights Daves’ superior handling of the material is during the lengthy wait in the hotel. While Ford stretches out on the bed he tries to tempt his captor into letting him walk with offers of a bribe. During this exchange the camera cuts back and forth between the faces of the two men, each time the focus zooms marginally closer on Van Heflin and ratchets up the tension. Mangold shoots the same scene mostly static and the result is that the tension doesn’t build and it simply falls flat.  Another problem is the ending of the remake. One criticism of Delmer Daves’ work was that his endings were often a bit of a cop out after what had gone before. The climax of the ’57 3:10 to Yuma was always its weakness but it feels deeply satisfying when compared to the absolute travesty that the remake offers as a conclusion. This is not to say that Mangold doesn’t do anything well. His handling of the action sequences is noteworthy, from the opening stage hold-up (complete with exploding horse) to the climactic gun battle/chase through the streets of Contention. The problem is that these have a comic book, Spaghetti western feel that sits a little uncomfortably with the dour tone of the rest of the picture.

I know Russell Crowe is a fine actor but when I compare his Ben Wade to that of Glenn Ford’s he comes off second best; there’s just not enough charm and too much of his natural oafishness showing through. I also prefer Van Heflin’s Dan Evans to that of Christian Bale but I don’t mean that as a criticism of the latter’s acting skill, rather I would put it down to the writing of the part. Ben Foster certainly outscores Richard Jaeckel as Wade’s henchman Charlie Prince; the role is greatly expanded in the remake and Foster really sinks his teeth into it. I also want to mention Peter Fonda, whose grizzled bounty hunter was one of the best things about the 2007 movie. How can you not admire a man who’s back in the saddle mere hours after being gut-shot and then operated on by a vet – what a guy!

So, I think I can safely say that my preference is for the 1957 3:10 to Yuma. However, people who come upon the remake with no knowledge of or exposure to the original may find it entertaining enough. Sure it’s chock full of implausibilities and boasts an outrageous ending but even I was willing to take these in my stride at first. Watching them consecutively as I did will only throw all those negatives into even sharper relief.

Hondo

/ Colin McGuigan / 11 Comments

There’s a small, isolated western homestead looking out over the harsh wilderness. A lone figure appears in the distance, and slowly makes his weary way towards the house. As he does so, the inhabitants watch his advance warily; does this figure represent hope or danger? While that may sound a whole lot like the opening of 1953’s Shane, it is actually from the same year’s Hondo.

The stranger who appears from the desert turns out to be Hondo Lane (John Wayne), part Indian and a former scout for General Crook’s cavalry. He tells the homesteaders, Mrs. Lowe (Geraldine Page) and her boy Johnny (Lee Aaker), that he  lost his horse a few days before while running from Apaches. He plans to buy a replacement and be on his way, but when he sees that the man of the house is absent, and Mrs. Lowe’s story about his being away in the hills for the day is patently a lie, he tries to make himself useful chopping wood and shoeing horses. He also happens to be carrying dispatches to the effect that the Apache under Vittorio (Michael Pate) are gearing up for war, and tries to impress upon the woman the dangers ahead and the necessity to move out. However, his appeals fall on deaf ears and, being a man who believes in letting people follow their own judgement, he takes his leave the following day. But something about the courage and character of the woman has impressed this fiercely independent man and you know that it’ll only be a matter of time before he returns. Soon after, the farm is visited by Vittorio’s war party, and the Apache chief is so impressed by the grit of little Johnny that he takes a special interest in him. Like Hondo, he feels the woman has no business raising the boy on her own and hands her an ultimatum that unless her man returns by the next rains she must become the squaw of one of his warriors.

By the early 50s, westerns had begun to portray Indians as more than just faceless bogeymen. Broken Arrow and Devil’s Doorway (both 1950) are generally credited with starting this trend, though you could argue that John Ford had already made moves in that direction a few years earlier with Fort Apache. Although Hondo is certainly no revisionist western it does show the Apache as two dimensional people. The film doesn’t shy away from their brutality with plenty of references to massacres and scalpings, and a scene where the captured Wayne is tortured with burning coals. Nevertheless, Vittorio is shown to be a man of honour who respects guts and, above all, honesty. This essential honesty of the Apache is juxtaposed with the whites’ tendency to be less than truthful in their dealings with friend and foe alike. In fact the issue of truth and lies runs all through the picture, with Wayne’s Hondo emphasising its importance again and again. Of course by the end of the film Vittorio is dead, and the last scene brings home how futile the Apache’s struggle would ultimately be as Wayne laments the passing of their way of life.

Hondo Lane is one of Duke’s better roles; he starts out as a man alone who values integrity and self reliance more than anything. Little by little we learn bits and pieces about him and how he came to this point in his life. There’s a nice scene where he talks about his dead wife, an Apache woman, and tries to express in English exactly what her name meant. It’s a simple little scene but Wayne manages to get across not so much the loss his character felt at her passing, but the wonderful memories that he was left with – memories that might be evoked just by the act of saying her name. Although it’s never directly stated, the inference is that his aloof manner is the result of his grief, and it’s only when he sees something of his late wife in Mrs. Lowe that the cracks begin to appear in his armour. There’s no schmaltz in the scenes with Gerladine Page and Lee Aaken, instead there seems to be a real chemistry. Page was nominated for a best supporting actress Oscar for her role as the abandoned wife and her performance justifies that; there’s nothing whiny or hysterical about her, just a kind of quiet acceptance. She wasn’t the most striking woman you’ll ever see but I think that’s as it should be for a character who has been dealt a fairly lousy hand of cards by fate and must play them as best she can. The other notable performance is that of Michael Pate. His Vittorio, as I said above, is more complex than many of the stereotypical Indian characters of the time. This is a man who boasts proudly of the number of white men he’s killed yet is human enough to feel protective towards a boy without a father. Hondo was shot in 3D and this obviously influenced the way John Farrow directed the picture. Action and fight scenes in particular are used to highlight the process, with guns fired directly at the screen and arrows and knives thrust dramatically in your face. (I suppose it should be mentioned that a few bits and pieces during the climax were actually shot by John Ford.)

The DVD from Paramount is presented flat in full screen, although I understand it was intended to be projected in 1.85:1 widescreen. It looks then like the transfer is an open matte one as I couldn’t detect any noticeable cropping at the sides. Generally, the image is a very strong and colorful one with only a few shots, especially near the end, looking a bit ragged. The disc is packed with extras: a commentary, a number of featurettes etc. This was one of the Batjac titles which the Wayne estate had kept out of circulation for years, and so the reputation of the film may have suffered a bit. I think it’s a great movie and would rank it as one of Wayne’s best, right alongside his work with Ford and Hawks.

Ice Cold in Alex

/ Colin McGuigan / 6 Comments

What makes a good war film? At its best, the war movie goes beyond mere action, heroism and patriotism. It provides the opportunity to show real human drama and real human frailty under the most extreme circumstances. The small, everyday, mundane struggles between individuals, and within individuals, play against the backdrop of the larger conflict. There is also the matter of character and how its strength or weakness can shape the course of events and the direction of men’s lives. The British film industry has succeeded in producing some fine war movies, and Ice Cold in Alex (1958) is no exception. This is no epic production; it really only deals with the experiences of four people yet it touches on some very big themes, not the least of which are honour and decency.

It’s 1942, Rommel’s Afrika Korps are racing across North Africa, and Tobruk is about to be besieged. Captain Anson (John Mills) is a man nearing the end of his tether, both physically and mentally. The unrelenting hardship of the desert war has driven him to drink, and his dependency on the bottle, while superficially steadying his nerves, threatens to undermine his judgment. Having been ordered to take his ambulance out of Tobruk before the siege begins, he finds himself faced with an overland trek to Alexandria accompanied by the phlegmatic Sergeant Major Pugh (Harry Andrews) and two nurses (Sylvia Sims & Diane Clare). Along the way they pick up an Afrikaaner, Van Der Poel (Anthony Quayle) who proves to be an asset in a number of situations. It’s Van Der Poel’s ability to speak German which gets them out of a tricky spot when Anson panics and tries to outrun an enemy patrol. However, the incident leads to the death of one of the nurses and Anson’s subsequent pledge to lay off the liquor until they reach Alex, where he’ll buy them all an ice cold beer.

Reaching their destination will be no easy task though. Rommel’s troops are advancing faster than expected and, as town after town falls, they must race to keep one step ahead. From this point on Anson’s war is no longer against an army; he must instead battle the hostile environment, suspicion and his own weakness. With the ambulance damaged, the water supply diminishing and the temperatures rising, he is forced into taking a route across The Depression, a vast desert quagmire, where one false step would spell disaster. Even as the little group pulls together to overcome each challenge nature throws at them, the seeds of suspicion are growing. Is Van Der Poel all that he claims to be?

Although the fate of the group ultimately depends on the calm resourcefulness of Pugh and the brute strength of Van Der Poel, it is Anson that you find yourself rooting for. It is a tribute to the skill of John Mills that the viewer feels such sympathy for what should be an unsympathetic character. After all, the man’s a drunk and his early recklessness causes the death of one of his charges. Yet, for all that, Mills manages to bring out the finer points of the man. There is a sense of real pain when he sees how his actions have led to tragedy for the unfortunate nurse. Throughout the film he’s all twitches and nerves and doubts and regrets and hopes – in short, a human being. Harry Andrews is all square-jawed grit and resolve; if you found yourself in a tight spot you’d love to have this guy by your side. Anthony Quayle also fits his role perfectly as the ebullient Afrikaaner who relishes every opportunity to show off his physical powers. Yet, all the while, those piggy little eyes dart around and you wonder what’s going on behind them. Sylvia Sims is the epitome of sweetness and practicality as she falls for Mills and, more importantly, believes in him and encourages him to believe in himself. J. Lee Thompson does his usual professional job in the director’s chair and makes good use of the North African locations. He manages to generate real suspense in some set piece scenes such as the navigation of the minefield and the nightmarish struggle in the quicksand. He also gets across the sense of dry, dusty heat and you feel the same relief as the characters do when John Mills sits on the bar stool in Alexandria and eyes that famous glass of Carlsberg.

Ice Cold in Alex is available on DVD in R2 from Optimum as part of their War Collection line. It’s a very nice anamorphic transfer in the correct 1.66:1 ratio. It’s a barebones affair as usual from Optimum but the quality of the film itself is enough to sell it, and it can normally be picked up cheaply. This is no action packed affair, it’s more of a character study and an excellent example of the British war film at its best. It succeeds in delivering a deeply satisfying ending and one that serves to reinforce the basic decency of man. And who better to portray that decency than John Mills.

Murder By Decree

/ Colin McGuigan / 8 Comments

Poster

I’ve always been a fan of Sherlock Holmes films. However, strange though it may seem, the stories and novels which inspired them never grabbed me in the same way. This may be due in part to the fact that I was first exposed to the screen Holmes rather than the literary Holmes, or it may be that my subsequent reading of Doyle’s stories left me a little underwhelmed. My earliest memories of the great detective and Dr. Watson were the films with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Over the years I’ve seen many more actors take on the role, from Peter Cushing and Andre Morell through to Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke. However, Rathbone and Bruce have remained the definitive screen incarnations – seems to bear out the old saying about first impressions. Murder By Decree (1978) offers Christopher Plummer in the role of Holmes and James Mason as Watson. I found them to be probably my second favorite pairing although the Cushing/Morell combination would run them pretty close.

This film has nothing to do with the Doyle stories (not always a bad thing) but simply takes his characters and transplants them into the Jack the Ripper mystery. This wasn’t the first time Holmes had been called upon to attempt to crack the famous unsolved murders on screen; that distinction belongs to A Study in Terror, made a decade before. While the earlier film was made on a more modest budget, Murder By Decree was an expensive production filled with big names. The plot has Holmes called into the case in its latter stages as a result of an anonymous tip-off. He is met with open hostility from the authorities in the form of Sir Charles Warren (Anthony Quayle). The mysterious informants later turn out to be members of a citizens’ committee (in reality anarchist agitators) who have taken a special interest in the murders. Holmes investigation takes him through the seedy and foggy backstreets of Victorian Whitechapel, where his and Watson’s conversations with the friends of the murdered women draw him closer to an unpalatable conclusion. When he finally visits an asylum to meet an inmate called Annie Crook (Genevieve Bujold), the talk he has not only confirms his suspicion but also leads that monument to logical reasoning to break down and weep. I won’t spoil the ending for anyone who hasn’t seen the film, but I will say that it will scarcely come as a surprise as it involves a fanciful theory that has been frequently expounded.

James Mason & Christopher Plummer - The game's afoot!

Christopher Plummer gives a performance as Holmes which brings out the humanity of the man better than anyone else I’ve seen. I’m not going to claim that this is Holmes as Doyle wrote him; by all accounts, Jeremy Brett managed to nail that one. Instead of the aloof character of literature we get a more rounded man and it is genuinely affecting to see him display honest emotion in the scene with Genevieve Bujold. He also gives a fine speech at the end when rails against Lord Salisbury (John Gielgud) and the hypocrisy of the powers that be. James Mason’s Watson is closer to the spirit of Doyle and not the bumbling, yet engaging, buffoon that Nigel Bruce made famous. Having said that, he does have his moments – the “You squashed my pea!” business never fails to raise a smile with me. The film is a very starry one with many good character turns: Anthony Quayle gives a wonderfully distasteful portrait of upper-class arrogance, David Hemmings is a policeman with his own private agenda, Donald Sutherland’s frightened psychic haunted by his own visions, and no Holmes film would be complete without Lestrade (Frank Finlay).

Murder By Decree is out on DVD in both R1 and R2. I have the R2 from Momentum and it has a pretty good anamorphic transfer and includes the theatrical trailer. I’m not sure if the R1 from Anchor Bay tops it but I’m happy enough with what I have. All in all, I think this is a very entertaining Holmes film which positively drips atmosphere. It features some great photography and excellent acting, and successfully blends the characters into a set of real historical circumstances. The resolution doesn’t particularly convince but, given the nature of the events, that’s always going to be the case. Unless you’re expecting a movie that sticks rigidly to Doyle’s characters you shouldn’t be disappointed.

Hell Drivers

/ Colin McGuigan / 6 Comments

The biggest problem with British thrillers of the 40s and 50s was their unfortunate tendency to water down the grimmer aspects of the stories. The result was that too many movies displayed an artificial “niceness”. Hell Drivers (1957), fortunately, avoids this trap by setting the story in a world that was far removed from middle-class respectability. Instead, it deals with men without roots risking their necks for a corrupt employer.

Tom Yately (Stanley Baker) is fresh out of prison and in need of a job to get him back on the straight and narrow. On the recommendation of a friend he approaches a haulage firm that has the reputation of paying good wages. This is a firm that takes on all manner of drifters on a no-questions-asked basis so long as they’re prepared to get the job done, even if it involves bending or breaking the law. Getting the job done means hauling as many loads of stone as possible at breakneck speed along winding provincial roads. The foreman and pacesetter is Red (Patrick McGoohan), an explosive Irish psychopath, who takes an immediate dislike to Tom. These two men’s mutual antipathy is at the heart of the film and leads first to a brutal fistfight, and later to the climactic trucking duel along the rim of a quarry. Along the way we learn the reason for the haulage firm’s insistence on speed, and there’s also a three way romance with Baker, Peggy Cummins and Herbert Lom.

The film provides a snapshot of working-class life of 1950s Britain; cheap rooming houses full of men who have no family and pasts that are perhaps best not dwelt upon. Free time is mostly spent hanging around the greasy spoon cafe, with occasional forays to the pictures or a local dance. In fact, it is in the depiction of one of these dances that we see the contrast between the world of the truckers and the more genteel society that the British film industry of the time frequently portrayed. The drivers don’t belong in this setting and the almost inevitable brawl that breaks out causes the further alienation of Baker’s character – he has to duck out on his companions since he can’t afford another run in with the law.

Hell Drivers is full of familiar faces: from a young Sean Connery, David McCallum and Jill Ireland to regular character actors Sid James, Wilfrid Lawson, Gordon Jackson and William Hartnell. While no-one gives a bad performance, the film really belongs to Baker, McGoohan and Lom in equal measure. Baker has an intense desperation about him as he tries to blot out his past, and assuage his guilt over the injuries he caused his younger brother, by earning an honest living. Yet he seems doomed to fail as his family spurn him and he betrays his only friend. McGoohan plays the kind of hard, aggressive Irishman I became only too familiar with myself, growing up around my father’s scrapyard in Northern Ireland. However, he takes it to a whole different level by giving us a leering psychotic barely able to control his animal instincts. Lom’s Gino is a touching and tragic figure; a former POW who dreams only of marrying Lucy (Peggy Cummins) and returning to his beloved Italy. I would hesitate to classify Hell Drivers as film noir, but these characters bring it close. There are no happy endings for any of them – even Baker’s romance appears to be built on a shaky foundation.

Hell Drivers is out on DVD in R2 from Network, and it’s an excellent anamorphic transfer. In fact it’s an excellent all-round package spread over two discs. The first disc has the film, commentary track, a Stanley Baker interview, a vintage featurette etc. Disc two holds episodes of Thriller and Danger Man, a documentary with Baker and more. There’s also a 24 page illustrated booklet in the case. This is one of the best British thrillers and it’s been treated to a deluxe presentation on shiny disc.