Movie Review: The St. Valentine's Day Massacre (1967)

Genre: Historical Gangster Action  

Director: Roger Corman  

Starring: Jason Robards, George Segal, Ralph Meeker  

Running Time: 100 minutes  

Synopsis: It's 1929, and rival gangs vie for control of the lucrative illegal alcohol trade in Chicago. Al Capone (Jason Robards) is convinced his rival George "Bugs" Moran (Ralph Meeker) cannot be trusted, and flashbacks reveal the history of reprisal attacks between their syndicates. Capone now orders his henchman Jack McGurn (Clint Ritchie) to organize a hit on Moran, who is equally intent on eliminating Capone. The levels of violence increase as St. Valentine's Day approaches. 

What Works Well: Using a narration-heavy docudrama style, the plot is faithful to the known facts leading to the notorious abolition-era bloodbath. Working with a decent budget and for a major studio, director Roger Corman still adheres to an economical no-wasted-scenes ethos, and recreates the late 1920s with crisp sets filled with vintage cars and wardrobes. A drawn-out fight between gangster Peter Gusenberg (George Segal) and his moll (Jean Hale) is a treat, while Bruce Dern and Jack Nicholson appear in small roles.

What Does Not Work As Well: The story is limited in scope to violent gangsters intent on killing other violent gangsters, and boredom sets in early. Every character receives a dry staccato introduction (birth year, birth city, arrest record, marital status, gang role, cause and date of death), but none of them are afforded a soul or emotional depth. Jason Robards chews the scenery in several sputtering over-the-top scenes, while most of the other goons are interchangeable villains in suits. Despite the sparkling aesthetics, the visuals never escape the studio backlot. 

Key Quote:

"Bugs" Moran: I say it's time we put Capone and his bums out of business...for good.

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Movie Review: The Owl And The Pussycat (1970)

A supposed romantic comedy, The Owl And The Pussycat consists of two distinctly unlikable characters screaming at each other for the best part of 95 minutes.

In a New York City apartment building, aspiring author Felix Sherman (George Segal) spots his neighbour Doris (Barbra Streisand) in the middle of a prostitute transaction and gets her evicted. She barges into his unit in the middle of the night and refuses to leave. She professes to be an actress and model and only rarely a hooker, and accuses him of being gay. They argue loudly, and as result of the commotion Felix is also evicted. They both seek refuge at the apartment of his friend Barney, where they continue their incessant verbal sparring.

Some level of cool shock value probably accompanied the transition of The Owl And The Pussycat from stage to screen in 1970, undoubtedly helped by Streisand in a series of risque outfits, but nothing can save the film from a fingernails-on-chalkboard level of awfulness. Being trapped with the meek Felix and insufferable Doris for an hour and a half is a special kind of torture, and director Herbert Ross is unable to salvage any semblance of an engaging narrative to relieve the confined tedium.

Doris is a dimwit gum chewing sex kitten who only stops talking when she starts shouting, Felix is a spineless bookstore clerk pretending to be an author, and the only good thing that can be said about them as a couple is that they deserve to heap misery on each other. However, nothing they say or do is remotely funny, romantic, or worth watching.

Ross repeatedly goes to the same few joke attempts (Doris can't sleep! Felix uses big words that Doris does not understand!) before resorting to the marijuana joint, which only briefly interrupts all the yelling. The film ends where it started, the couple still bickering and trading insults and abuse, but now they may also be in love, a case of unconvincing romance blossoming in a field of utter dross.



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Movie Review: The Quiller Memorandum (1966)

A spy thriller, The Quiller Memorandum investigates a group of ultra nationalists in Germany. Compact and often intense, the film targets disposition and tension more than outright action.

After two British agents are killed, Agent Quiller (George Segal) is dispatched to Berlin to continue an investigation into a shadowy neo-Nazi group. He connects with his controller Pol (Alec Guinness) and shakes off his guard Hengel (Peter Carsten). Investigating reports that one of the neo-Nazis worked at a school Quiller meets teacher Inge Lindt (Senta Berger) and romances her to try and extract additional information.

Quiller antagonizes enough people to prompt the extremists into action: he is drugged, kidnapped and comes face to face with Oktober (Max von Sydow), the leader of a far-right group. At a secret location Oktober tries to extract from Quiller information about counterintelligence operations in Berlin, and a dangerous battle of wits and wills erupts between the two sides.

A Harold Pinter adaptation of the Elleston Trevor book directed by Michael Anderson, The Quiller Memorandum dives into the world of undercover spies poking around dangerous corners to uncover existential threats. Partially shot on location in Berlin, the film carries a British sensibility. The action is measured, talk is important, mindgames matter, and mood predominates.

But the film also skips past several gaps in logic. Quiller is an American seemingly working for the British, German authorities are nowhere to be found, and on more than one occasion Oktober and his men leave loose ends to better serve the script than their cause. Anderson allows some scenes to run too long, and most of the secondary characters, particularly Oktober's many henchmen, are statuesque in presence and stiff in character.

Max von Sydow and Alec Guinness add welcome gravitas, but both are marginally over the top and edge towards caricaturish representations of master villain and master spy respectively.

The central passionate relationship is handled better. Notwithstanding the speed with which Quiller connects with Inge, Anderson delicately weaves in the complex romance, with Senta Berger enigmatic in the pivotal role. When Oktober injects the spy with a truth serum Inge as a notional lover suddenly becomes vital for his survival; later her role seeps into the investigation, lapping on multiple shores of subtle danger.

More famous for comedic roles, George Segal is a revelation. He adds oodles of character, staying on the appropriate side of determined but pushing all the boundaries in an unconventional and acid-tongued pursuit of proven killers. Countering extreme nationalism is a dour mission, but Quiller brings individual swagger to the game of shadows.

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Movie Review: Look Who's Talking (1989)

A romantic comedy, Look Who's Talking offers standard fare enhanced by a likeable couple and the expressed thoughts of a baby.

In New York City, Mollie (Kirstie Alley) is an accountant, deeply in love with her client Albert (George Segal), the only trouble being that Albert is already married and just stringing Mollie along. He anyway gets her pregnant, although Mollie tells her mom Rosie (Olympia Dukakis) that she chose artificial insemination. On the day of the delivery Mollie has to scramble to the hospital in a taxi driven by the scrappy James (John Travolta).

Baby Mikey (voice of Bruce Willis) is born, and Mollie goes on a quest to try and find a suitable father, without much success. James continues to hang around Mollie, offering babysitting services, and gradually they grow close.

Written and directed by Amy Heckerling, Look Who's Talking provides the novelty of a baby who can share his thoughts, with Bruce Willis mailing in a relatively wooden voice role. However, the talking baby trick eventually and not surprisingly wears off, particularly as Mikey ages into a toddler.

Look Who's Talking remains mainly watchable thanks to the two central characters, the dynamic between Mollie and James seasoned on a low fire as Mollie desperately searches for a father and ignores the most obvious option available to her. John Travolta triggered one of many career upticks by portraying the streetsmart James and having fun with his own screen image, and Kirstie Alley threatened big screen stardom in an appealing role as the frazzled Mollie.

Heckerling peppers her film with enough good laughs to sustain momentum, starting with detailed what-happens-during-conception imagery. Mollie is good at imagining worst-case-scenario futures with the magnified faults of the men she's dating. The pseudo-psychological babble of the highly unreliable Albert also helps in the comedy department, as does mom Rosie's pragmatically unimaginative advice on affairs of the heart.

None of which means the film is anything except utterly predictable, with the ever-popular frantic chase ending that brings the two lovers into each other's arms. It doesn't matter who's doing the talking, a rom-com is a rom-com.

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Movie Review: Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

A talky drama about a marriage in turmoil, Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? breaks new ground in frank discourse and features astounding acting performances. It is also over the top and tiresome in its obsession with shouty drunkenness.

Middle aged married couple Martha and George (Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton) walk home at 2am, after attending a party at the house of Martha's father, the president of the college where George teaches history. Once home Martha and George bicker continuously, his passive aggressiveness a response to her continuous agitation. She then announces that despite the late hour, she has invited another couple for a visit to continue socializing.

Nick and Honey (George Segal and Sandy Dennis) soon arrive. He is a young and ambitious biology professor at the same college, while she is mousy, loves to drink and gets sick easily. The visitors are at first astounded by Martha and George's incessant war of words, and the night gets weirder when Martha reveals that she and George have a 16 year-old son, conspicuous by his absence. With the alcohol flowing, Martha then proceeds to humiliate George, expressing her disappointment with his lack of ambition. But George has tricks up his sleeve as well, and extracts information out of Nick that he will use to his advantage as the night progresses.

An adaptation of the Edward Albee Broadway play sensation, written for the screen and produced by Ernest Lehman and directed by Mike Nichols, Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? (the title refers to a silly song) is at once intolerable and irresistible. Featuring what at the time was considered scandalous and borderline profane dialogue, the idea of spending more than two hours with four distinctly unlikable characters humiliating each other is almost tortuous. But the performances and the appeal of watching a marriage disappearing into a mushroom cloud of carnage turn the experience into a must-see psychological case study.

The union between Martha and George has disintegrated into a combative relationship that feeds on its own poison, an example of love's extension snapping into hateful dependency. The acrimony serves as the film's fuel, but is also carried several steps too far. Even for this couple the gamesmanship on display steps into fantasy territory, and the final 30 minutes run on vapours, Martha and George stepping over the cliff and into the domain of the ridiculous.

Taylor and Burton do their best to keep a hold of the material, and in many ways Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? is only watchable thanks to the two legendary stars and real-life combustible couple. Yes, of course they are theatrical, but they are also commanding, and Taylor and Burton make it impossible not to be drawn into the tumultuous life of Martha and George.

Taylor won her second Best Actress Academy Award, while Sandy Dennis won the Best Supporting Actress trophy. Hers is a well written role, but also much less difficult: Honey spends most of the film in a drunken haze, from where confused but impactful quips are easy to deliver. George Segal suffers from the least convincing of the four lead roles, his biology professor too easily falling into Martha and George's lair, neither his ambition nor his naivete ever convincing enough to justify his actions.

The film's almost total reliance on alcohol consumption gets quite laborious. Every two minutes drinks are being offered, conspicuously consumed or discussed. Drama dependent on drunken incoherence is cheapened, and the film errs on the side of piling on cruelty based on artificial lubrication.

In an astonishing big screen directorial debut, Nichols moves his cameras and perspectives in a remarkable display of agility in confined spaces. The film is more often about reactions than actions, and Nichols plays with focus and placement, highlighting characters in the background and sometimes in entirely other rooms listening in to heighten the drama of not just what is being said, but also how it is being received by the intended and unintended audience.

Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? is less than perfect but also an unmistakable milestone, vicious manipulation achieving new levels of intended and collateral psychological damage.

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Movie Review: California Split (1974)

A slice-of-life film set in the world of pitiful men succumbing to a life of continuous gambling, California Split suffers from a vague structure, less than compelling plot and loud overlapping dialogue. But once the story finally finds an anchor, both the drama and the level of engagement improve.

In Los Angeles, Bill Denny (George Segal) and Charlie Waters (Elliott Gould) meet at a poker game and establish a loose friendship based on their mutual love of gambling. Charlie has no expectation of a life outside gambling and will gamble on anything at anytime, maintaining an easy going, roll-with-the-punches (sometimes literally) attitude. Bill is more serious and intense, struggling to balance a career with his increasingly dominant gambling habit. Charlie introduces Bill to his friends, the rather dimwitted prostitutes Barbara (Ann Prentiss) and Susan (Gwen Welles).

Just as Bill starts to enjoy Charlie's regular company, the latter suddenly disappears. Left on his own, Bill freefalls into a full-fledged gambling addiction and finds himself deep in debt with his bookie Sparkie (Joseph Walsh, who also wrote the script). Upon Charlie's return, Bill is determined to prove himself a winner, and plans an all-or-nothing gambling trip to Reno.

Directed by Robert Altman in his trademark off-handed style, California Split takes a long time to find traction. Patience is rewarded once the characters are belatedly defined, but while Bill's downward spiral does engage, an element of vague tedium permeates proceedings. The technique of having multiple loud conversations overlapping in the same scene quickly grows tiresome, and it takes Altman the best part of an hour to be done with introducing the characters in a freewheeling first half that often dips into structural sloppiness.

The second half is much better. Once Bill find his rock bottom and starts to understand that just like gambling, Charlie's friendship comes with no guarantees, the film latches on to a theme. The trip to Reno turns into an expedition to prove that at least one winning streak resides in every gambler. Altman and Walsh then nail the climax, gambling emerging as more about self-definition and less about winning and losing.

The film's aesthetic accurately captures the depressing surroundings in which gambling thrives. Far from the glittery razzle dazzle marketing image of gambling, Bill and Charlie spend large chunks of their days and nights in smoke-filled windowless and featureless rooms, filled with desperate, unsavory souls intent on drowning their reality in pursuit of cheap riches.

George Segal and Elliott Gould do what is expected, the film's easy-going tone suiting both actors but also not providing any highlight opportunities for them to shine. Ann Prentiss and Gwen Welles as the sweet but messy roommate hookers add to the general milieu of losers getting by as best as they know how. Jeff Goldblum makes a brief early career appearance.

California Split is half of a good film, the early clumsiness offset by a late winning hand.

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The Movies Of George Segal

All movies starring George Segal and reviewed on the Ace Black Movie Blog are linked below:

The Longest Day (1962)

Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

The Quiller Memorandum (1966)

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre (1967)

The Owl And The Pussycat (1970)

California Split (1974)

Fun With Dick And Jane (1977)

Look Who's Talking (1989)

To Die For (1995, uncredited)

The Cable Guy (1996)

2012 (2009)

Love And Other Drugs (2010)

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The Movie Star Index is here.

Movie Review: Fun With Dick And Jane (1977)

A comedy about economic hardship prompting a benign crime spree, Fun With Dick And Jane is a commentary about the middle class obsession with keeping up appearances and materialism. It hits a few high notes, but generally ambles along, relying on star charisma to make up for a limited premise.

Aeronautical engineer Dick Harper (Georg Segal) is a victim of downsizing. His boss Charlie (Ed McMahon) fires him, blaming the recession and poor company performance due to the shrinking space exploration program. Dick and his stay-at-home wife Jane (Jane Fonda) have a large suburban home, a mountain of debt and no assets. Dick is unable to find work, so Jane takes on a variety of humiliating jobs to make ends meet. After trying to get by on unemployment insurance and food stamps, Dick and Jane grow desperate and start a crime spree, robbing everything from corner stores to church donations. For their final heist, Dick and Jane decide to break into Charlie's safe, where he keeps a large amount of cash as an illegal slush fund to grease business deals.

George Segal was the Dick Van Dyke of his era, never convincing as an actor but always watchable as a comedian looking for the next messy situation to get embroiled in. The Fun With Dick And Jane script (co-written by Mordecai Richler) lacks a cutting edge, leaving Segal to stroll through the film with minimal impact. He does get one good scene to spread his comic wings, attempting his first robbery at a pharmacy but getting his gun stuck in his pants.

Jane Fonda does better, adding effortless glamour and attractive bemusement to the role of the well-taken-care-of wife who now needs to take more control of her life and her man.

Director Ted Kotcheff finds few opportunities to add any flair to the proceedings, and settles for just following his two stars around.

Fun With Dick And Jane achieves what it sets out to do, but it does set the bar low before clearing it.

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