Movie Review: The Passage (1979)

A World War Two escape thriller, The Passage features a stellar but poorly utilized cast struggling against a feeble script and the stench of a low budget production.

With France under Nazi occupation, hardy Basque sheep farmer (Anthony Quinn) is reluctantly recruited by the French resistance for a dangerous mission to smuggle American scientist Professor Bergson (James Mason) across the Pyrenees and into Spain.

Bergston is hiding in Toulouse, and the Basque is shocked to learn that the frail Mrs. Bergson (Patricia Neal) and the couple's two grown children (Kay Lenz and Paul Clemens) are accompanying their father. Meanwhile, sadistic SS Captain Von Berkow (Malcolm McDowell) is intent on hunting down the Professor. After receiving help from a gypsy leader (Christopher Lee), the escape party start their perilous journey across the snow-covered mountains, with Von Berkow in hot pursuit.

A British production directed by veteran J. Lee Thompson, The Passage collects an impressive cast and aims for an old-fashioned but smaller-scaled World War Two adventure in the vein of Thompson's The Guns Of Navarone from 1961. With a decent premise and impressive mountainous scenery supplementing the stars, the raw ingredients are promising.

But The Passage suffers from production values that appear cheap and hurried, and the script (by Bruce Nicolayson, adapting his own book) ignores everything related to backstories and personal dynamics. Most of the characters are hardly afforded a name, let alone rounded into individuals, with James Mason's Professor Bergson the primary victim. All of the dialogue is of the plastic variety, while Thompson's directing is muddled, his handling of the action scenes bordering on inept.

The void of quality is filled with shock value, and The Passage is notorious for all the wrong reasons. The main eye-popping excuse to watch the film is a misplaced Malcolm McDowell performance. His full-on British accent unexplained and unconstrained, McDowell mushes Alex DeLarge from A Clockwork Orange with Caligula and enters World War Two with ridiculous madness. His Captain Von Berkow is an all-time over-the-top experience, a star running amok with no guidance from his director.

And Von Berkow steers The Passage to a second claim to infamy as an exercise in excess violence and gore. The SS Captain perpetuates on-screen rape, torture, immolation and mass murder, and on a couple of occasions punctuates his atrocities with pantomime-level outfits. His articulated chef chop-chop scene is admittedly compelling as an indecorous horror-comedy routine.

The Passage is thankfully a mostly forgotten curiosity, a lost opportunity buried in the jagged mountains.

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Movie Review: A Face In The Crowd (1957)

A hard hitting drama, A Face In The Crowd examines the ruinous trend of celebrity culture propelled by television.

In a small rural Arkansas town, radio show producer Marcia Jeffries (Patricia Neal) features hard drinking drifter Larry "Lonesome" Rhodes (Andy Griffith) on her "A Face In The Crowd" radio show. Rhodes has no talent but his rambling, honest and animated monologues capture the public's imagination. He is offered a regular radio slot, and soon attracts the attention of television producers and sponsors in Memphis. Marcia relocates with him, and teams up with acerbic writer Mel Miller (Walter Matthau) to help grow Lonesome's popularity.

Ambitious office worker Joey DePalma (Anthony Franciosa) recognizes Rhodes appeal, and finagles a national television deal resulting in a big contract and another relocation, this time to New York City. Now wealthy and influential beyond his dreams, Rhodes relies on Marcia to keep him somewhat grounded, but is otherwise obsessed with his celebrity status and growing influence. He starts to dabble in politics and is smitten by young cheerleader Betty Lou Fleckum (Lee Remick).

Directed by Elia Kazan and written by Budd Schulberg, A Face In The Crowd is a prescient rags-to-riches and lust-for-power story examining the emerging influence of broadcast media. In two hours Kazan traces the trajectory of Rhodes, starting from a dank prison cell where he is passed out in the corner, all the way to a New York City penthouse with Rhodes as the nation's most prominent television personality and a political kingmaker influencing election campaigns.

A Face In The Crowd predicts the era of talentless celebrities and influencers, capable of grabbing attention and dominating the media landscape based on little more than hot air. Rhodes' only talent is to "tell it like it is", spouting home truths with apparent blue collar honesty, poking fun at corporate sponsors and speaking in language that appeals to the less educated masses huddled around their radios and televisions.

And there is plenty of money to be made on the back of an unlikely superstar, and wealth creates greedy enablers. His corporate sponsors learn to love him, and men like Joey DePalma get rich by creating business empires around him. Even Marcia, who found and unleashed the genie from the bottle, insists on getting a financial cut once she starts to doubt that Rhodes will ever be able to truly commit to her.

In his film debut, Andy Griffith is a revelation, dominating almost every scene and creating a memorable character as Rhodes rides his country boy appeal to the top, always smart enough to adapt his zeal to suit ever changing circumstances. Kazan also cajoles moments of poignancy out of Griffith, often in the company of Neal's Marcia, as it becomes apparent to Rhodes that no amount of fame can fill the void inside.

Every man has every right to pursue his dreams. A Face In The Crowd accompanies Lonesome Rhoades on his wild ride, and exposes the ease with which a nation can be entranced and manipulated by simplistic platitudes.

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Movie Review: The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951)

A classy science fiction film tackling disarmament themes, The Day The Earth Stood Still is a compact thriller with a timeless message.

A spaceship lands in Washington DC. On board are two aliens: the human-like Klaatu (Michael Rennie) and the giant robot Gort (Lock Martin). Klaatu is shot on arrival by panicked army soldiers, but anyway tries to communicate an important message with squabbling world leaders. Gort has advanced ray weapons capable of zapping and disintegrating any threat.

Klaatu slips away from the hospital and assumes the identity of John Carpenter to mingle with humans. He books into a small hotel and befriends war widow Helen (Patricia Neal) and her young son Bobby (Billy Gray). Klaatu makes contact with Professor Jacob Barnhardt (Sam Jaffe), who helps organize a scientist summit to hear Klaatu's message. But with a massive manhunt closing in on him and Helen's boyfriend Tom (Hugh Marlowe) starting to get suspicious, Klaatu may run out of time.

Smoothly directed by Robert Wise with a script by Edmund H. North, The Day The Earth Stood Still was an early attempt to inject mature and thought-provoking themes and substantive budgets and talent into the sci-fi genre. In this story the humans are the war mongering dummies and the aliens are the technologically and cerebrally more advanced sage advisors with a warning for Earth. On a cold war footing and treating the newcomers with the blunt tools of soldiers, machine guns and tanks, human behaviour is immediately revealed to be infantile.

The film looks seamless, the alien technology impressive and the mission focused. The imagery is often striking, and in portraying the spaceship, Gort and the display of alien abilities, Wise crafts enduring cinematic milestones.

But the story establishes its singular objective early, Klaatu out to gather world leaders to deliver a warning message of great consequence. It takes all of the 91 minutes of running time and plenty of distractions that would not stand up to logical scrutiny to arrive at the opportunity for the big speech. And the climax proves to be a truncated affair, predictable but also bewildering in its brevity. The sense that money, time or ideas ran out lingers in the air.

There are some either deliberate or coincidental religious undertones to be found, Klaatu's adopted initials of JC and fortuitous Carpenter name providing clues, and late in the film he undergoes a more obvious rejuvenation thanks to help from the all-powerful Gort. The symbolism, whether intentional or not, is confined to the background.

Michael Rennie reached a career highlight in his disciplined central performance as Klaatu. He succeeds in portraying the alien as a quick study but still a new arrival to the planet, using an easy but sharp demeanour to fulfil his mission. Patricia Neal is the most prominent and sympathetic of the humans. Hugh Marlowe as her boyfriend represents more human faults in the form of self-serving greed, while Sam Jaffe is suitably Einsteinesque as Professor Barnhardt.

The Day The Earth Stood Still raises an astute mirror in front of the human condition, revealing a worrisome image.

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Movie Review: Operation Pacific (1951)

A World War Two submarine action film with a touch of romance, Operation Pacific ticks all the boxes but does not shine in any of them.

In World War Two, the American submarine Thunderfish is tasked with tracking down and sinking Japanese enemy vessels in the Pacific Ocean. Captain "Pop" Perry (Ward Bond) and his Executive Officer "Duke" Gifford (John Wayne) are friends and smoothly command the sub. After rescuing civilians from a Japanese held island, Thunderfish returns to Pearl Harbor where Duke hopes to win back the love of his ex-wife Lieutenant Navy Nurse Mary Stuart (Patricia Neal). However, she is now in a romantic relationship with Pop's younger brother Lieutenant Bob Perry (Philip Carey).

Back at sea Thunderfish tangles with more enemy ships, but is hampered by faulty torpedoes. Pop and Duke have to lead their men into a difficult encounter with a heavily armed Japanese freighter, and the outcome further complicates the tense relationship between Duke and Bob. But the Thunderfish's biggest challenge still lies ahead.

Written and directed by George Waggner, Operation Pacific is inspired by true incidents that occurred in the Pacific theatre during World War Two. The film is committed to an investment in a close-to-realistic portrayal of submarine warfare operations, and the scenes at sea carry the requisite edge as men in confined surroundings dispatch death in the form of torpedoes and in return anticipate the juddering thuds of depth charges. The subplot about malfunctioning torpedoes introduces an unusual but welcome dose of engineering pragmatism in a war movie.

But in terms of characters and narrative engagement, the film sails in firmly bland territory. The Duke character is fully subsumed by John Wayne to the extent of sharing the actors' nickname. And Wayne treats the submarine as his horse as he rides tall in command, fearless in every decision and never harboring any doubt that he will win the war and win the girl.

The absence of depth exposes the film to the silliness of a romantic triangle where Mary Stuart clearly shares no affection with Bob and whether consciously or not is using him to win back Duke. Wayne and Patricia Neal do click as an on-screen couple (despite apparent off-screen apathy), but Duke's damn-the-torpedoes approach strips the film of subtlety both at sea and on land.

Waggner does alternate between action and romance at regular intervals and avoids lingering for too long in any one place. The film clocks in at under two hours, and Waggner finds a good ending in a large scale naval battle with plenty of opportunities for heroism and sacrifice. The love and war stories finally merge on the high seas, Wayne presented an efficient opportunity to dominate both arenas. And wet or dry, it's pointless to expect anything other than a comprehensive Duke triumph.

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Movie Review: The Subject Was Roses (1968)

A family melodrama comprehensively trapped in its stage origins, The Subject Was Roses is overwrought and uneven but never dull.

After serving in World War Two for three years, Timmy Cleary (Martin Sheen) comes back to his parents' Bronx apartment. His father John (Jack Albertson), a businessman, is proud of his returning son, whom he now perceives as a man. Timmy's mother Nettie (Patricia Neal) has more trouble reconnecting with Timmy, and appears to resent the suddenly closer bond between father and son.

It is soon evident to Timmy that the relationship between his parents, always strained as he was growing up, is now under severe duress. Difficult conversations and arguments between the three family members erupt, with the topics of heated debate including drinking, philandering, religion, real estate, long-ago sacrifices, family commitments and broken dreams.

An adaptation of the 1964 Frank D. Gilroy play with Gilroy himself penning the screenplay, The Subject Was Roses is an overclocked three character study. The directorial debut of Ulu Grosbard (who also directed the Broadway production) is filled with the fire and fury of a middle class marriage well past its best-by date and floundering on the rocks of unmet expectations.

The movie is not far from a filmed play. Albertson and Sheen reprise their stage roles, while Patricia Neal was brought in for big-screen name recognition, and this was her triumphant return after a near-fatal stroke. Grosbard attempts to introduce a couple of awkward sojours outside the cramped apartment, with Nettie's day out proving to be particularly awkward and pointless to the tune of a grating song.

In retrospect, the film suffers from two fundamental weaknesses that are only partially the fault of the original material. By 1968 the Vietnam War was dominating the cultural landscape, and here was a story about a soldier returning from World War Two and walking into the turmoil of...his parents bickering. With the United States in the throes of seminal societal and cultural upheaval, the film becomes a quaint look back at a much more innocent time, despite all the loud arguments.

And to compound matters, Timmy as the returning veteran is the most stable character in the movie. It's as if he was away at a prolonged summer camp, and whatever it was he did in the war, The Subject Was Roses is not interested. More than 20 years prior films like The Best Years Of Our Lives blew the lid off the trauma of the returning soldier, and for Gilroy to not even tangentially approach the topic contributes to an uneven narrative.

What remains is a kitchen table social drama where every scene reveals another rub point between John and Nettie, a couple whose mutual love and affection were very much lost over the years, a middle-class and less sophisticated version of Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?. Nettie is obsessed with looking after her mother and a handicapped sibling (never seen), John never psychologically recovered from a major economic setback, and together they are at their best when engaged in winding each other up, with Timmy firmly stuck in the crossfire.

The script features some sharp dialogue exchanges, Timmy the beneficiary of the best lines, and all three performances are in tune with the overheated emotions, although Neal is by far the most enigmatic.

A typical familial train wreck designed to induce rubber necking, The Subject Was Roses neither disappoints nor enthralls.

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The Movies Of Patricia Neal

All movies starring Patricia Neal and reviewed on the Ace Black Blog are linked below:

Bright Leaf (1950)

Operation Pacific (1951)

The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951)

A Face In The Crowd (1957)

Breakfast At Tiffany's (1961)

Hud (1963)

The Subject Was Roses (1968)

The Passage (1979)

All Ace Black Blog Movie Reviews are here.
The Index of Movie Stars is here.

Movie Review: Bright Leaf (1950)

A potent mix of business manoeuvring and romantic entanglements, Bright Leaf is a drama filled with fierce characters seeking fortunes and confronting flaws.

It's the 1890s, and Brant Royle (Gary Cooper) returns to Kingsmont, North Carolina to establish a tobacco business. Years earlier the Royles were driven off their land by the powerful tobacco mogul Major Singleton (Donald Crisp). Now Brant wants revenge, although he still lusts after the Major's feisty daughter Margaret (Patricia Neal). She has grown up to be as conniving as her father, and as interested in causing trouble. Meanwhile, businesswoman and brothel owner Sonia Kovac (Lauren Bacall) always loved Brant and is happy to see him back in town, but he never reciprocated her affection.

With financial help from Sonia, Brant teams up with inventor John Barton (Jeff Corey) and colourful promoter Chris "Dr. Monaco" Malley (Jack Carson). Using a production machine invented by Barton and Malley's promotional savvy, they corner the market by automating cigarette manufacturing and launching a catchy marketing campaign. With Brant on the ascendancy he makes his move on Margaret and tries to buy out the Major, but both business and romance are about to get a lot more complicated.

Directed by Michael Curtiz and possibly inspired by real events, Bright Leaf is a rich broth of corporate machinations, personal greed, cold revenge and hot romance. Clocking in at 110 minutes, the film is packed with grim emotion and multiple struggles for self-definition through destroying others rather than nurturing personal growth. Curtiz maintains interest by quickly cycling through the various threads of Brants life, and efficiently moving through the passing years.

Aesthetically Curtiz creates an enjoyable environment of a bustling town built on the tobacco industry before the product was associated with any health threats, with every frame populated by activity in all corners. From the prostitutes tempting their customers to the frenzied auctioneer selling the latest tobacco leaf bundles to the tycoons fretting over their business prospects, Bright Leaf is a dynamic experience.

The film is distinguished by colouring all the main characters an interesting shade of grey, and avoiding simplistic good and bad definitions. As Brant claws his way from a penniless man driven by revenge to the top of the tobacco heap, the lines of distinction between him and the Major begin to blur. Brant is blinded by a mission to reclaim his family's heritage, destroy the Major, and conquer the Singleton estate and Margaret as two ultimate prizes. His focus blinds him to the victims he creates along the way, and they are all ready to help bring him down when his turn comes.

Margaret Singleton and Sonia Kovac stand out as women true to their intentions, but at diametrically opposite ends of the spectrum. Margaret is her father's daughter from her first introduction, a fact that makes her irresistible to Brant. She plays his need to subjugate her for all its worth. Meanwhile Sonia remains true to her genuine love for Brant, her heart persisting in the belief that someday he will awaken to what she has to offer, while her head says otherwise.

Gary Cooper is freed from his typical good-guy persona and presents a dour, single-minded man. His aggressive intensity creates a hard shell at the heart of the film. Patricia Neal is all conniving sass, and Lauren Bacall conveys the struggle between passion and pragmatism. Donald Crisp, Jeff Corey and Jack Carson add plenty of animation to the other supporting roles.

Engaging and entertaining, Bright Leaf glows with the heat of sweltering determination colliding with human failings.

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Movie Review: Hud (1963)

A slow burning deep south drama, Hud is an intense four-person character study featuring superb performances and complex human dynamics.

In rural Texas, the aging Homer Bannon (Melvyn Douglas) runs the family cattle ranch. Homer's herd appears to be afflicted with a potentially serious ailment, and government types move in to investigate whether foot and mouth disease has infected the ranch. Homer is a principled man, growing increasingly horrified at the behaviour of his son Hud (Paul Newman), a hard drinking selfish womanizer openly seducing the married ladies of the nearby town and showing no real respect or regard for concepts of hard work and responsibility.

Hud: Well, I've always thought the law was meant to be interpreted in a lenient manner. Sometimes I lean one way and sometimes I lean the other.

Lonnie Bannon (Brandon deWilde) is Homer's grandson and Hud's nephew, a young man at the crossroads, beginning to idolize his Uncle but also respecting Homer's ethos. Lonnie's father Norman died under mysterious circumstances, with Homer attaching at least some blame on Hud. Alma (Patricia Neal) is Homer's housekeeper, a world weary divorced woman with a smouldering sexuality and not shy about flirting with both Hud and Lonnie. The possibility of Homer's entire herd of cattle being wiped out adds to the tension between Homer and Hud, and the turmoil will sweep up both Lonnie and Alma.

Homer, to Lonnie: Little by little the look of the country changes because of the men we admire. You're just going to have to make up your own mind one day about what's right and wrong.

Directed by Martin Ritt and gorgeously filmed in black and white by James Wong Howe, Hud contrasts wide open Texas skies with intricately linked emotions. A slice of life drama focusing on a fractured family at a generational cross roads, the film is pregnant with possibilities, situational tension and flawed characters. The story goes looking for the limit of often unspoken hostility that one family can withstand, and never relents in ratcheting up the weight of expectations pulling in different direction.

Hud: Happens to everybody. Horses, dogs, men. Nobody gets out of life alive.

The themes include Lonnie's coming of age in the shadow of the mystery of his father's death; the business of running a stricken ranch in a Texas where oil is pushing out cattle as the preferred money-making commodity; and layers of unresolved hostility between a father adhering to old fashioned principles and a son much more interested in self gratification and little else. And a sexual undercurrent keeps the tension high as Lonnie transitions from boy to man, Hud flaunts his animal magnetism all over town and Alma wonders who may be available to fill her needs.

Alma: I was married to Ed for six years. Only thing he was ever good for was to scratch my back where I couldn't reach it.
Hud: You still got that itch?
Alma: Off and on.
Hud: Well let me know when it gets to bothering you.

The film wastes no time drawing in the four characters, and Ritt expertly arranges his principles in a self-dependent puzzle, where Homer needs Hud's help on the ranch, Lonnie needs to decide whether or not Hud is a good role model, Hud needs to plan out his future as the sun sets on Homer's reign, and Alma needs to juggle the needs of three powerful men to maintain her economic well being. Ritt maintains control of the pacing and dramatics, never veering into excess and ensuring that the ties that bind get better defined even as they are exposed to higher stresses.

Hud: The only question I ever ask any woman is "What time is your husband coming home?"

The four performances are nothing less than perfect. Paul Newman has rarely been better, finding in Hud the ideal role for his most typical persona of the supremely selfish but also sexually irresistible man. In support Patricia Neal won the Best Actress Academy Award for the relatively small but pivotal role of Alma, uncovering lust and self preservation hiding just beneath the tousled housekeeper exterior. Melvyn Douglas and Brandon DeWilde bookend Hud with the previous and future stock of Bannons. Douglas is uncompromising in exposing Homer's deeply principled stand on life while DeWilde allows Lonnie to effectively walk the fault line between grandfather and uncle.

Homer: You don't care about people Hud. You don't give a damn about 'em. Oh, you got all that charm goin' for ya. And it makes the youngsters want to be like ya. That's the shame of it because you don't value anything. You don't respect nothing. You keep no check on your appetites at all. You live just for yourself. And that makes you not fit to live with.

Uncompromising and always finding the more challenging road, Hud is an elegant showpiece for intriguing, true-to-life characters.

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Movie Review: Breakfast At Tiffany's (1961)

A cultural and stylistic landmark, Breakfast At Tiffany's is a timeless classic, capturing a society moving into a decade of enormous change, and doing it with panache.

When Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) is depressed, she eats breakfast on the sidewalk looking through the Tiffany's store window in New York. Living with her cat (named Cat) but otherwise very alone in her apartment, Holly's life is a series of encounters with men who seek her company and pay well for it. She classifies them as rats or super-rats, depending on how loathsome they are. Holly is desperately seeking happiness, fulfilment and riches; but she is unwilling to surrender her heart or her life to any true relationship. She even stoops to the level of getting paid to visit a locked-up crime boss, oblivious she is being used to transmit his commands.

Struggling author Paul Varjak (George Peppard) moves into another apartment in the same building. Women find him attractive, particularly Mrs. Failenson (Patricia Neal), a decorator willing to pay Paul for his calculated affection. Holly wants to keep Paul strictly as a friend, and does her best to deny their growing connection. Her former husband Doc (Buddy Ebsen) shows up in New York pleading with her to return to Texas, but Holly prefers a life of independent struggle to the comfort of anonymity. Eventually she reaches a critical decision point: her prospects look grim, unless she lowers the fence around her heart.

Holly Golightly is a representative icon for women rocketing from the predictability of the 1950s into the uncertain 1960s: sexually liberated, seeking love on her terms, forging an independent identity, making new connections in a freedom-obsessed society, and pressured to revert to the old but safe environment. And there are no playbooks to guide her, only instincts and self-belief. 

That Holly grapples with the big decisions in life so stylishly is a big part of Breakfast At Tiffany's appeal. The ridiculously oversized cigarette holder; the Givenchy dresses; the hats, sunglasses, and  jewellery: rarely has a single film had such an indelible impact on fashion. Craving unaffordable luxury also starts here: Holly never has any money, and she nevertheless looks gloriously fashionable wondering where the next dollar is going to come from.

Working from the novella by Truman Capote and a script by George Axelrod, director Blake Edwards assembles all the pieces of Breakfast At Tiffany's into a dazzling tapestry. He augments the visual appeal of his stars and setting with Henri Mancini's music, the spine-tingling theme song Moon River instantly claiming a place among the classic tunes of Hollywood. Edwards elegantly inserts the song throughout the movie without overexposing it. Humour is also judiciously deployed, the party scene in Holly's apartment a chaotic joy. 

Despite being cast against her wholesome image, Audrey Hepburn pulls off the role magnificently while enshrining her quiet grace and beauty, combining Holly's fun-loving innocence with a hard edged determination to keep her heart secure. George Peppard is adequate as Paul, never catching fire but holding his own. Mickey Rooney's portrayal of upstairs comic relief neighbour Mr. Yunioshi is an unfortunate yellowface misfire amplifying Asian stereotypes.

Breakfast At Tiffany's is soulful, hopeful and pragmatic. The prize is on the other side of the window, tantalizingly within reach, but at what cost.

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