Showing posts with label Walter Brennan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walter Brennan. Show all posts

Sunday, 27 July 2025

Movie Review: Blood On The Moon (1948)


Genre: Western  
Director: Robert Wise  
Starring: Robert Mitchum, Barbara Bel Geddes, Robert Preston, Walter Brennan  
Running Time: 88 minutes  

Synopsis: Drifting cowboy and expert gunslinger Jim Garry (Robert Mitchum) is recruited by his old buddy Tate Riling (Robert Preston) to join a group of ranchers defending their territory against encroachment by cattle-baron John Lufton (Tom Tully). After tangling with Lufton's daughter Amy (Barbara Bel Geddes), Jim learns he may be on the wrong side of this conflict, and that Riling is conspiring with evil government agent Pindalest (Frank Faylen) to exploit the ranchers and buy Lufton's herd on the cheap.

What Works Well: This is a moody psychological western, enlivened by bursts of action but focusing on the gradations of grey between right and wrong. Robert Mitchum's stoic and unflappable persona is perfect for a protagonist bruised by life, establishing an unwanted reputation as a gun for hire, but still capable of being the source of light in the darkness of competing greed. He is helped by the budding love of Amy, a hard-as-nails cowgirl astute enough to see the man hiding behind cynicism. Both sides of the traditional cattlemen-versus-ranchers conflict are sympathetically portrayed, with exploitive profiteers as the real antagonists.

What Does Not Work As Well: Given the short running time, the plot is almost too rich and over-stocked with characters. One real romance, one duplicitous romance, one grieving father (Walter Brennan), a couple of hardened gunslingers, one stampede, and a prolonged siege are all somehow wedged into the drama, leaving only limited room for reflection.

Key Quote:
Jim: I've been mixed up in a lot of things, Tate, but up to now, I've never been hired for my guns.
Riling: Can you afford to be so particular?


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Sunday, 16 October 2016

Movie Review: The North Star (1943)


A pro-Soviet propaganda film intended to whip up sympathy for the war effort against Germany, The North Star (also known as Armored Attack) is a cringe-inducing dud.

It's 1941, and the Nazis are about to invade the idyllic farming village of North Star in western Ukraine, part of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Before the shooting starts, five youth from the village embark on a trip to the capital Kiev, including Marina (Anne Baxter), her would-be lover Kolya (Farley Granger), Clavdia (Jane Withers) and Kolya's older brother and conscripted soldier Damian (Dana Andrews).

The travellers don't make it very far: the Nazi's attack with bombing raids, tanks and troops. The village is occupied before it can be burned down. In the face of Nazi atrocities including forcing local children to donate blood, the villagers have to scatter to join the nascent resistance movement.

Produced by Samuel Goldwyn, directed by Lewis Milestone and written by Lillian Hellman, The North Star is unabashed agitprop. Despite the high budget and respected cast, Milestone delivers a painfully bad cinematic experience devoid of any artistic merit.

The first half is preoccupied with portraying Ukrainian villagers living under the Soviet boot as happy simple folks, and it's punctuated by ghastly singing and dancing interludes straight out of amateur high school plays. The fingers-on-the-chalkboard level of irritation is enhanced by inane nationalistic dialogue, ham-fisted delivery and enough over-sugared sentiment to kill a horse.

Once the Nazis make an appearance, the music mercifully stops and the fighting starts. The second half improves, but it's a really low bar to step over. As a story of guerilla warfare and peasants taking up arms, The North Star lacks anything resembling thoughtfulness, nuance or genuine emotion. This is an in-your-face sophomoric effort intended to rally the home front, and Milestone can't even get the basics right: the battle scenes, tactics and consequences are asinine.

Everyone from the children to the old geezers lustily and blindly buys into the die-for-your-country hokum. Given the general level of near unwatchable incompetence, the film boasts a remarkable cast collectively performing at their worst, consumed by Hellman's fatuous prose. Anne Baxter leads the way with one of the many overwrought eyes-dreamily-to-the-stars performances on display. Walter Huston is a local doctor tangling with Erich von Stroheim's Nazi surgeon, while Walter Brennan is a stereotypical crusty farmer-on-a-wagon.

The North Star is not bad because it's propaganda; it's bad because it's a wretchedly awful film.






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Sunday, 17 July 2016

Movie Review: My Darling Clementine (1946)


A loose retelling of events leading up to the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, My Darling Clementine is a gorgeously filmed but curiously paced Western. The black and white images are stylish and evocative, but the story gets bogged down in lengthy nothingness for surprisingly long stretches.

Former lawman and now cattleman Wyatt Earp (Henry Fonda) and his brothers tangle with Newman "Old Man" Clanton (Walter Brennan) and his sons on the outskirts of Tombstone. When Wyatt's brother James is killed and his cattle stolen, Wyatt accepts the offer to serve as Marshal of Tombstone. He imposes law and order, including reigning in the coarse behaviour of resident gambler and local legend "Doc" Holliday (Victor Mature).

Doc's former love Clementine Carter (Cathy Downs) unexpectedly shows up in town having traveled all the way from Boston, much to the disgust of Doc's current girl Chihuahua (Linda Darnell). Wyatt takes a romantic interest in Clementine, but his attention turns back to the Claytons when proof emerges that they were involved in James' death.

Directed by John Ford, My Darling Clementine is a feast for the eyes but a strain on the concentration. Ford invests heavily in look and feel, and captures a lyrical, poetic vision of the west, with carefully constructed framing and astute use of lighting. The scenes unfold at a leisurely pace and linger long enough to luxuriate in saturated beauty.

Less impressive is the narrative thrust and character definitions. Despite the shortish 97 minutes of running time, Ford struggles to find a focus. The Clantons effectively disappear almost entirely from the heart of the film, leaving Wyatt Earp to tangle off and on with Doc Holliday, and it's never clear if the men settle down to being friends, rivals or something vague in-between.

Clementine plays a big role in the title but barely contributes to the actual events of the film. She and Chihuahua represent two versions of the west, Clementine a more civilized future and Chihuahua a more earthy present, but they are more catalysts than well-defined characters, standing to the side as the men sort out their conflicts. Little is known about any of Earp's brothers, and the Clantons remain faceless bad guys with no objective except to cause harm.

Henry Fonda makes for a serious, respectful Wyatt Earp, Fonda's screen persona as the stand-up guy in the group ensuring that Wyatt is all good and fully on the side of due process and the law. As usual Doc Holliday is the more nuanced and interesting character, and Victor Mature is fine in interpreting the once-doctor (he was actually a dentist) and now hard-drinking, harder-coughing gambler with appropriate complexity.

The final showdown, once it arrives, jerks the film back into its center of gravity, and the gunfight at the O.K. Corral is well handled, if far removed from historical outcomes. Clementine may be a darling, but the film works better when the good guys get down to the business of tangling with the bad guys in the west's most famous horse enclosure.






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Thursday, 18 December 2014

Movie Review: The Westerner (1940)


An entertaining big-budget Western, The Westerner helped to establish the genre as a serious venue for bringing to life engaging characters and exploring key themes in the West's progression.

It's the 1880s, and large numbers of settlers are arriving in Texas, putting up fences and producing crops to the chagrin of cattlemen who want the country to remain wide open for cattle grazing. In the small town of Vinegaroon, self-appointed Judge Roy Bean (Walter Brennan) runs the local watering hole which doubles as his courtroom, with his rough, ready and regular customers providing a convenient jury pool. Bean is aware of the shifting social landscape and sides with the cattlemen, refusing to accept that the West is undergoing a fundamental change. He also worships stage performer Lily Langtry, plastering her pictures all over his saloon.

California-bound drifter Cole Harden (Gary Cooper) is brought in front of Bean accused of stealing a horse. Harden is innocent, and recognizing Bean's fascination with Langtry saves himself from hanging by spinning long tales of personally having met Lily. Gradually Harden and Bean develop a thorny friendship, despite Harden lining himself up with the settler family of Jane Matthews (Doris Davenport). But when violence erupts and lives are lost in the battle between settlers and cattlemen, the two men are forced to finally confront each other, and matters are further complicated when it is announced that the one and only Lily Langtry will be arriving in Texas for a stage show.

A year after John Ford's Stagecoach revitalized the big-budget Western and proved that the genre can indeed be respectable and not just B-movie fodder produced on Poverty Row, William Wyler picked up the challenge and delivered another grand tale of the old West. Drawing inspiration from the life of the real and legendary Judge Roy Bean, The Westerner is a simple story of two resourceful men who discover that as much as they should be friends, the changing times will inevitably push them towards confrontation.

The Westerner is a story told with humour, elegance and two fine performances. The screenplay by Niven Busch and Jo Swerling keeps the mood light with plenty of wit and colourful secondary characters. The remarkable but real antics of Judge Roy Bean in self-appointing himself as the law and running a courtroom out of his saloon are genuinely funny, and the film celebrates one of the West's great eccentrics.

While Walter Brennan won the Best Supporting Actor Academy Award (his third win in five years), his is the film's central performance, and Bean is its most compelling character. In his later years Brennan would become known as the cinematic goofy sidekick, good for a cheap laugh but little else. The Westerner may be his finest performance, as he gives the Judge depth, evil smarts, natural suspicion, and a potent mix of charm and deadly determination. Brennan's protective-aggressive portrayal of Bean's (apparently true) infatuation with Langtry is a particular joy.

In contrast Cooper is solid but unspectacular in a role that he only accepted reluctantly and to fulfill his contractual obligation to producer Samuel Goldwyn. Cooper recognized that Cole Harden is strictly second fiddle despite occupying the moral high ground. But The Westerner revealed the special magic that sparkles when Brennan and Cooper are together on the screen, and led to four more collaborations.

Despite the prevailing quality, the film is not without its faults. Wyler allows a few scenes to go on for longer than needed, and makes too much of Bean's obsession with obtaining a locket of Langtry's hair, which spills over into a drama between Harden and Jane.

But in addition to the two central characters, there is a plenty more going on in the film to compensate, and the tone easily switches to serious when needed. This is the story of the west evolving from wide open and generally lawless to a place where families are settling and hoping to raise children and tend the land. The era of the Roy Beans of the world is drawing to a close, and men like Harden will have more say as the new frontier evolves from rowdy to domesticated. The Westerner will endure, but only by transitioning from wild and carefree to thoughtful and considerate.






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Monday, 15 December 2014

Movie Review: Meet John Doe (1941)


Directed by Frank Capra, Meet John Doe is a feel-good story about populism, politics and pretense. The film is easy to enjoy, but lacks depth and sophistication.

Sassy newspaper columnist Ann Mitchell (Barbara Stanwyck) loses her job when the struggling daily paper is sold to tycoon publisher D. B. Norton (Edward Arnold). In her final column she writes about a letter she received from "John Doe" stating his intention to commit suicide on Christmas Eve, because he can't find a job and the world has become a grim place where people don't care about each other. John Doe and his letter are entirely manufactured by Ann. The published column is taken seriously and causes a political firestorm. Ann is re-hired to write a series of John Doe columns, outlining the source of his anger and creating a manifesto for a better society.

Vagabond "Long" John Willoughby (Gary Cooper) is hired to pretend to be John Doe, with his every word scripted by Ann, who uses her deceased father's diary for inspiration. Willoughby's caustic travelling companion "The Colonel" (Walter Brennan) hangs around to witness the deception.

Willoughby plays along with Ann's every request, hoping to make enough money to fix a bum elbow and take another shot at a baseball career. The John Doe political phenomenon takes off across the country in the form of organized clubs promoting good neighbourliness and citizens looking out for each other. But Norton and his backroom backers harbour secret intentions of hijacking the John Doe movement as a springboard for a presidential election campaign, leaving Willoughby and Ann to struggle with the consequences of their actions.

Meet John Doe easily achieves the objective of satirizing simplistic political messages, celebrating each individual and the power of neighbourliness while exposing the corrupt puppet masters behind every curtain. It's a simple slice of Americana effectively presented with Capra's typical charm. The plight of the average guy is once again placed front and centre as a gateway to a broader societal lesson, with simple solutions to complex problems easily devoured by the masses, a phenomenon that reverberates around the globe and across the years.

But the film itself stays on the same elementary plane occupied by its own message, and veers towards the simplistic. Capra and screenwriter Robert Riskin cannot quite find the dose of magic needed to elevate the themes and emotions towards something greater than the sum of the most basic ideas, and the film plateaus early and plays itself out with a combination of predictability and mild amusement.

Several scenes run much longer than they need to, from The Colonel's rant about "heelots" (hordes of heels in search of money) to the endless Bert Hanson story about forming the first John Doe club. The film seems unable to make a point without resorting to an overabundance of tiresome talk. It's never quite bland, but the absence of any true spark, wit, threat or sharp edge gives John Doe and his adventure a free pass towards a contrived ending that fails to resonate.

Gary Cooper is fine in a role that would have better belonged to James Stewart, but Cooper does all that he can with it. Long John Willoughby is the ultimate reluctant hero, and Cooper sheds any semblance of confidence and dives into the character's sideswiped puzzlement over sudden wealth, fame and influence. Any energy enjoyed by the film is provided by Barbara Stanwyck as Ann Mitchell. She enlivens the first half, but her character is subsequently tamed and takes a back seat as the Jon Doe phenomenon sweeps the nation and Long John' mounting dilemma becomes the centre of attention.

Not unexpectedly Ann falls in love with Long John, but only because the script demands it, and the film waves from afar at the notion of a romance without genuinely engaging in the concept. John Doe's story ends at the top of a building on Christmas Eve, the movie turns suddenly towards religion to find a quick exit, and an imperfect man again understands his value. It's all delivered with the best of intentions, and it's all just a bit twee.






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Friday, 17 October 2014

Movie Review: Rio Bravo (1959)


A classic few-against-many western, Rio Bravo is a study of determination against the odds. The story of a sheriff and his two allies doggedly holding out against the overwhelming forces of a corrupt businessman is a thrilling standoff in defence of what is right.

When the dimwitted Joe Burdette (Claude Akins) shoots and kills a man in a saloon fight, he is arrested by Sheriff John T. Chance (John Wayne). Chance holds Joe in the town's small jail, guarded by old timer Stumpy (Walter Brennan). Chance's only other ally is his deputy Dude (Dean Martin), who is struggling to escape the clutches of severe alcohol dependency. Chance has to await a Marshall who will arrive within days to transport the prisoner. The problem is that Joe's brother Nathan (John Russell) is the richest landowner in the area, and he wants his brother set free.

As the siege grips the town, Chance gradually gains a few allies. Young gunslinger Colorado Ryan (Ricky Nelson) first insists on minding his own business but starts to change his mind after his mentor Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond) is killed by Nathan's men. Meanwhile card shark Feathers (Angie Dickinson) arrives in town and catches Chance's eye. Nathan intensifies his efforts to intimidate and threaten Chance into releasing Joe, but the lawman and his allies are determined to bring Joe to justice, leading to a series of ever more violent skirmishes with Nathan's men.

A response and rebuke aimed squarely at High Noon (1952), in Rio Bravo the sheriff is comfortable standing tall on his own. Wayne and director Howard Hawks wanted to portray a law officer who refuses help from the ordinary townsfolk, but gets it anyway. In this version of America, the hero stands up to his individual responsibilities despite the obvious risks, and by doing so inspires others to step forward.

Rio Bravo is a masterpiece of mounting tension, as a state of physical and psychological siege creates a perfect canvass for classic western themes. Chance, Stumpy and Dude have to defend a shrinking perimeter around the jailhouse, their enemies already present inside and outside the town, and ready to pounce at any instant and upon any sign of weakness. And Chance's allies are far from perfect or dependable. Dude's battle against the bottle hangs in the balance, and the movie opens with a brilliant, dialogue-free scene of Dude reduced to retrieving coins from a spittoon to get yet another drink. Stumpy is an old-timer, trigger happy but handicapped by a limp leg and a caustic attitude.

Arrayed against these three is an army of cowboys on Nathan Burdette's payroll, plus mercenaries happy to kill in exchange for Nathan's money. Gradually Nathan tightens the noose and intimidates or kills those who express support for Chance. But still the community does not turn its back. Hotel keeper Carlos (Pedro Gonzalez-Gonzalez), wagon master Wheeler, gunslinger Colorado and the passionate Feathers all show varying degrees of support, and as the stand-off moves towards an inevitably violent climax, their support becomes more overt and active.

The script by Jules Furthman Leigh and Brackett Hawks mixes plenty of character interaction and development with bursts of action to keep the pressure building. By the time Hawks unleashes all the guns to explode into action for the raucous final showdown, Chance and his friends are remarkably well developed, having faced down internal demons and come to terms with their destinies.

John Wayne is iconic as John T. Chance ("T for trouble", according to Feathers), a man who knows his role, ready with an answer for everything but reduced to a puddle of uncertainty when placed in the cross hairs of Feathers' affection. Dean Martin and Angie Dickinson rarely had better roles. Martin is the most complex character in the film, Dude struggling against his past potential, present dependency and unsure if he deserves a second chance for a better future. Dickinson is a combination of confidence and sensuality that allows Feathers to match wits and stubborn commitment with Chance.

Rio Bravo celebrates righteous struggles against enemies both external and internal. As is often the case, winning the fight against self-doubt makes disposing of outside foes that much easier.






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Saturday, 15 February 2014

Movie Review: The Far Country (1954)


A gold rush adventure, The Far Country is a satisfying western, with impressive scenery making up for a lackadaisical narrative.

During the Klondike gold rush, Jeff Webster (James Stewart) and his sidekick Ben Tatum (Walter Brennan) lead a cattle drive toward Dawson City in the Canadian territories. At the Alaskan border town of Skagway, Jeff runs afoul of racketeering Judge Gannon (John McIntire), who seizes the cattle and attempts to intimidate Jeff. Local businesswoman Ronda Castle (Ruth Roman) comes to the rescue and invites Jeff to join her supplies caravan to Dawson, but not before innocent Renee Vallon (Corinne Calvet), the daughter of Skagway's doctor, develops a crush on Jeff.

Jeff eventually steals back his cattle, further infuriating Gannon, and demonstrates a stubborn streak of self-preservation by making his way to Dawson, securing a prospecting claim and looking after only himself. When Ronda and Gannon make their move to seize control of Dawson, Jeff has to decide where his real interests lie.

One of five western collaborations between Stewart and director Anthony Mann, The Far Country rarely strays from fairly standard, and sometimes cursory, treatment of common western themes. The action scenes start and end with a suddenness that hints at lazy scripting courtesy of Borden Chase, while Jeff's transformation journey from loner looking after himself to a man who must learn to care about his community can be spotted early.

The film is more memorable for breathtaking scenery and mud-drenched depictions of fledgling towns supporting the gold rush. Filming in Jasper National Park, Mann and cinematographer William H. Daniels make excellent use of the rugged, chilly and imposing terrain. Skagway and particularly Dawson are portrayed as rough frontier towns, where the rich and powerful rule by intimidation, either with subtlety in the case of Ronda, or with more open aggression, the method preferred by Gannon.

The potentially romantic triangle between Jeff, Ronda and Renee adds an element of human interest, but with Jeff mostly in love with himself and Ronda clearly more manipulative than caring, there is little room for any serious affection to flourish.

James Stewart cruises through the movie with a smooth, laid-back presence, his impressive confidence bordering on disinterest. More engaged are the two antagonists. John McIntire adds plenty of colourful bite to the role of Judge Gannon, a seemingly self-appointed law officer, prosecutor, juror and judge. Ruth Roman as Ronda Castle exudes the determination of a woman always ready to buy her way to ever increasing power, and looking for the most convenient partner for every given opportunity. Walter Brennan, as always, plays Walter Brennan.

The Far Country is a visual feast at the front lines of the quest for gold; the plot and characters stay much closer to home.






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Sunday, 26 January 2014

Movie Review: Red River (1948)


A cattle drive as a metaphor for life, Red River is a stirring western adventure benefitting from stubborn characters battling against each other as they carve new trails across the west.

Thomas Dunson (John Wayne) is a determined cattleman and expert quick-draw, and along with loyal companion Nadine Groot (Walter Brennan) carves out his own territory to raise cattle in Texas. After an Indian attack destroys a wagon convoy, Dunson takes in a young Matthew Garth under his wing. Over many years Dunson grows his empire from one cow and one bull to a herd numbering more than ten thousand, while Matthew (Montgomery Clift) matures into a capable cowboy, and a fast gunman in his own right. The Civil War destroys the market for beef in the south, forcing Dunson to embark on an epic thousand mile cattle drive to Missouri, where he can sell his herd.

Dunson, Matthew and Groot assemble a large team of cowboys including quick draw Cherry Valance (John Ireland), and they set out on the long and difficult journey across the Red River and against the elements, Indians, marauding cattle thieves and the risk of stampedes. Dunson drives his men hard and resentment starts to build against his authoritarian leadership, especially when Dunson refuses to change course despite word filtering through that by using the Chisholm Trail, Kansas may be a shorter and easier destination than Missouri. When Dunson's behaviour turns from difficult to dangerously irrational, Matthew has to decide if he can stand up to his lifelong father figure.

The first western directed by Howard Hawks, Red River is a visually impressive achievement and an engaging exploration of some classic themes. Filmed in black and white, Hawks and cinematographer Russell Harlan create arresting images of a massive cattle drive across open terrain, the land creating both the opportunity and the challenge for Dunson and his men. The script by Borden Chase and Charles Schnee provides plenty of nighttime pauses for the personalities of the men to emerge from under the hats, leading to the human conflicts that enrich the film.

The evolution of Matthew from boy to man is a central storyline, as the protege has to finally come out of his mentor's shadow and establish his own authority to earn his place in the world. Another running thread explores the limits of determined leadership, the same headstrong and violent tactics that allowed Dunson as a young man to become a great cattleman work against him when the time comes for managing his men on the arduous journey. And the role of women in the lives of their men receives a twinkled if marginal nod, Dunson losing an early love (Coleen Gray) who could have moderated his personality, and later both Matthew and Dunson tangling with the resourceful Tess Millay (Joanne Dru) when she lands in the middle of their brewing dispute.

In a complex role that includes plenty of unpleasantry, John Wayne brings Dunson to life without hiding the ferocity of will required to survive in the west. Dunson is rarely a cuddly man, and Wayne plays the role with a swagger that makes Dunson's darker side more menacing. Montgomery Clift, in his first movie role, represents through Matthew the next generation, still resolute but more alert to the need to listen and accommodate rather than command and control. Both Clift and Matthew are clear-eyed, energetic and with the future at their feet.

Driven by the vigorous flow of life's essential ingredients, Red River runs strong and deep.






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Sunday, 11 November 2012

Movie Review: Bad Day At Black Rock (1955)


A tense thriller set after World War Two but otherwise containing all the elements of a Western, Bad Day At Black Rock is a small movie with a long reach. An excellent cast extends to the minor roles, and the ethos of a mysterious stranger arriving unannounced in a small town harbouring a dark secret would continue to resonate for decades in the hands of the likes of Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood.

John Macreedy (Spencer Tracy) arrives by train to the small town of Black Rock in the middle of the desert. A one-armed World War Two veteran dressed in a black suit and black hat, Macreedy immediately makes himself unpopular with the suspicious locals by asking for directions to the home of a local man named Komoko. Hotel clerk Pete (John Ericson) is unwelcoming, while roughnecks Coley (Ernest Borgnine) and Hector (Lee Marvin) try to intimidate Macreedy and run him out of town.

Undeterred, Macreedy seeks out the local Sheriff Tim Horn (Dean Jagger), but finds him to be useless. Meanwhile the town veterinarian Doc Velie (Walter Brennan) and Pete's sister Liz (Anne Francis) are slightly friendlier but still less than forthcoming. The unofficial town leader Reno Smith (Robert Ryan) pretends to befriend Macreedy while still urging him to leave, but gradually Macreedy uncovers Smith's central role in the dirty secret involving the missing Komoko.

Black Rock is a clutch of ramshackle buildings that time has forgot, and where the train stops reluctantly and only upon request. Director John Sturges therefore has a well-defined closed system to operate in, with Macreedy the single outside factor agitating the fragile alliance built by the locals to protect their secret. It's a simple but effective structure deployed in later examples by Leone in A Fistful Of Dollars (1964) and Eastwood in High Plains Drifter (1973).

CinemaScope may seem like an odd choice for a small film about a dirty town secret, but Sturges uses it to his advantage. The wide camera angles emphasize just how small and isolated Black Rock is, a town where horrible things can happen to good people and the rest of the world will be none the wiser.

Sturges maintains a taut compactness throughout Bad Day At Black Rock, with no wasted scenes to prolong the 81 minutes of running length. Characters are introduced quickly through the eyes of Macreedy, with quick interactions sharply defining each local's position in the town's hierarchy, from the spineless (the Sheriff) to the smoothly intimidating (Smith).

Spencer Tracy creates an unforgettable character in John Macreedy. Unflappable in black under the scorching sun and not allowing his handicap to slow down his martial arts skills, Macreedy personifies coolness and always appears to be several steps ahead of the locals conspiring against him. Robert Ryan makes for a smooth villain, his smile concealing a cold master of puppets working hard to keep the town in line. Ernest Borgnine and Lee Marvin enjoy the roles of tough guys given the freedom to unleash brutality on the new guy.

Although easy to guess, the secret at the centre of Bad Day At Black Rock pokes away at the scar tissue surrounding the mistreatment of Americans of Japanese descent during the War, giving the movie a modern social message to go along with its Western stylistic elements. Tracy, in his mid-fifties, may be difficult to imagine as a just-returned active war duty veteran, but a town struggling with a dark past needs a mythical warrior for justice more than an ordinary man, and John Macreedy readily delivers the bitter but required medicine.






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Friday, 23 December 2011

Movie Review: To Have And Have Not (1944)


The debut of Lauren Bacall and her first teaming with Humphrey Bogart are the highlights of To Have And Have Not, a story of romance and intrigue during the early days of the Second World War. Almost a remake of Casablanca, To Have And Have Not is distinguished and enlivened by the sharp sparring between Bogart and Bacall playing two self-centred characters unable to resist falling in love in a foreign land.

It's 1940, and the French Caribbean island of Martinique is feeling the shockwaves of the war in Europe. The Nazi-friendly Vichy government is in control, and looking for skulking Free France agents. American Harry Morgan (Bogart) minds his own business running a fishing boat while living at the Hotel Martinique, but in one day his neutral life is severely disrupted: Marie Browning (Bacall), a young American travelling alone, arrives in Martinique and moves into the room next door, and Frenchy, the hotel owner, seeks Morgan's help to smuggle some Free France activists.

Morgan calls Marie "Slim", she calls him "Steve". Sparks fly between them. Initially reluctant to help Frenchy, Morgan finally agrees to undertake the smuggling mission, primarily to make enough money to help Slim leave Martinique. But she decides to stay with him and they both become involved in helping Free France agents, as the local authorities close in.

Director Howard Hawks and screenwriters Jules Furthman and William Faulkner did not leave much of Ernest Hemingway's novel intact, which is likely a good thing, Hawks claiming that Hemingway himself said that the book, set in Cuba, was "a bunch of junk" .

Instead, Hawks sets out to recreate as much of Casablanca as he could. Fort de France, Martinique is a fine alternative setting for an exotic port city during the war, and most of the other To Have And Have Not plot elements are not-so-subtle imitations of the legendary story of Rick's Cafe Americain. From the busy lounge to the piano player to the French resistance seeking Bogart's help all the way down to the local French lawman's name (Renard as opposed to Renault), To Have And Have Not aims for flattery by close imitation.

Despite lacking in freshness, fortunately this retelling of essentially the same story does stand strongly on its own thanks to the talent involved, and the strength of the one main original component: the relationship between Bogart's Captain Morgan and Bacall's Slim. Bogart was 44 at the time of filming, Bacall was 19, and remarkably, Slim became the first female screen character to equal the cool arrogance and inexhaustible self-belief of the Bogart persona, and Bacall the first actress to match Bogart's sheer captivating screen presence.

The two were made for each other on and off the screen, and in To Have And Have Not, it does not take their characters long to find this out. The film sparkles during the many scenes in which Morgan and Slim match wits, as they jointly arrive at the conclusion they belong to each other despite both possessing forceful streaks of individualism.

The rest of To Have And Have Not gallops along with a well-rehearsed agility, Bogart's magnetism overcoming secondary characters that are game but not as sharply defined or as memorable as their Casablanca counterparts. There is too much of Walter Brennan's drink-obsessed Eddie and not enough of Dan Seymour's sturdy Renard, nor does Dolores Moran (as the wife of a key Resistance member) get enough to do, several of her scenes apparently excised in favour of shining a brighter spotlight on Bacall, despite Moran carrying on an affair with Hawks during filming.

To Have And Have Not is Casablanca through a funky mirror, a simmering wartime love story between a young ingenue and a grizzled legend that both overshadows and elevates the film that spawned it.






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